Of Interns and Africa

A Final Word

2009-08-21T10:41:00.001-07:00

Having read "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad in high school, I began this summer having some inkling of Africa's unique powers over the human spirit. Granted, I didn't think I would be transformed into a bloodthirsty maniac wanting to "exterminate the brutes!", but I did know that Africa doesn't go easy on anyone. However, I didn't anticipate how comprehensive the challenges that Africa could bring would be. During my brief stint on the continent I faced the assumed difficulties of finding a place to live, a car to drive, and a community to build, but I also found myself having to persevere in the face of questions about what route my life's path should take, who and what I value, and what sort of man I am called to be.

There were many times on my commute when I would rack my brain, wondering what the events of the day and week meant in the context of my life. Was I being called to missionary work, let alone a nonprofit career? Was I being too controlling over what I wanted my life to look like? Was I pushing myself in the right direction, or just the direction that seems most appealing? Though I did indeed find answers in this time, I still carry some of these questions with me, and I think I will for a long time to come. What matters is that I'm thinking about them.

To my delight, though, the payoffs for having taken on such challenges were well worth the tension of dealing with them. This summer has had me exposed to the human spirit at its most resilient in bare township shacks. I have swum with the most fearsome predators of the deep and encountered giants of the bush. Africa has shared her secret beauty with me, a beauty that seems boundless, timeless, and irreproducible. I've witnessed smiles in the face of uncertain fate, humility in moments of passion, and wisdom among angst.

I guess Africa's beauty is bought at a price. Like in her people's lives, what is good and worthwhile comes only after toil- only after tears have been shed and failure has been faced. I come from a place where awe is expected, where the unexceptional is thought of as the exception. Something is expected to come from nothing, and it frequently does, though at a deferred cost. That's not the case with Africa- any amount of awe has been born of toil and uncertainty, making it so much more valuable and inspiring.

This has been a summer worth reflecting upon, and I plan on doing that for some time. I come back to the states with a lot of raw life material, and I plan on processing it in hopes of its quick application in my life. I want to thank every one of you who has showed such breathtaking generosity in taking the time to follow me on my travels as I collected this life material. Writing is a pleasure for me, but to hear response from people I love who have a displayed interest in my life really humbles me and makes me appreciate how fantastic all of the people in my life are. Thank you for your interest and encouragement. My only hope is that in spending the time to read through my thoughts and travels you have somehow benefited. I hope you are motivated to have a heart for those unfortunate but amazing people in townships who long for God, compelled to challenge yourself in whatever ways you can, or just energized to go on your own Old School Adventure.

This has been the summer of 2009, and I couldn't have wished for anything better. Perhaps next summer there will be more to blog but until then, Reader, you stay classy.

Settling Accounts

2009-08-17T16:27:00.000-07:00

Early the next morning I made haste to get ready for a day of errands. First up, I took Aslan to Drive Africa, where they spent an hour checking him out and determining what extra money I would have to pay and how much exactly they would buy him back for. It was a painless experience, and I enjoyed talking with the people at the office. In the end, I was charged for two new tires (because they had worn down), a major maintenance checkup that I had left for them to do, and a charge for them to clean it up and remove all the bits of Africa that still remained inside. The final price was pretty good, and the end calculations came out to about 30 dollars a day to have the car for two and a half months. Not bad, I should think.

Having found out that the All Nations people would all be in a meeting for a couple more ours, I headed towards Cape Point to do some last minute sightseeing and kill some time. The drive was wonderful, and the sights were breathtaking. I didn't make it all the way to the point itself because of its monetary and temporal expense. Snapping photos of the dramatic coastline was fun, but I had more to photograph, so I stopped at a penguin colony, where African penguins reside, making their strange sounds and continuing their unlikely existence.

Soon it was time to get to Africa House. In the parking lot, I emptied the jerry can of gas that I had never used into the tank and returned it. Passing by Floyd as he rushed to another meeting, I said my goodbyes and thank you's, wondering when I would return. Over the next four hours, I retrieved my luggage and laptop from Africa House and spent time catching up with all my friends there. Before long, though, it was time to separate, which was difficult but necessary. Driving home on my last commute, I reflected on the time I spent with All Nations, with all its frustrations, elations, and challenges. I realized that my viewpoint had changed in many respects, but more on that later.

At the hostel Toukam and I met back up after he had spent the afternoon with his coworkers, and we began the task of assessing the financial damage that the previous two and a half months. Despite our having Microsoft Excel, a calculator, plenty of documentation, and two Columbian minds at our disposal, success proved illusive. Finally, after an inexcusably long time all the numbers balanced out, and I was at peace, if also feeling poor. Having done that deed, we had a couple hours left before dinner, so we filled up the time uploaded each other's photos, putting our African CD's on our laptops, and packing a little. Finally the time came for dinner.

My generous parents had read a review of a restaurant in Cape Town called Roundhouse in Town and Country and decided to "take" Toukam and I out to dinner there. Not wanting to pass such an offer up, we made reservations back in Mossel Bay and did indeed spend the last night of the Old School Adventure in style. The restaurant, which lies on the slope of Table Mountain overlooking the sea, is small, scenic, and refined. Opting for the four course meal, Toukam and I had a great time reminiscing about the adventures we had had and pondering about what adventures are in store for us in the future. The food itself was spectacular- I had foie gras, bouillabaisse, aged sirloin, and blood orange shortcake, all of which were superb, although the foie gras definitely took the cake.

The next day was the day of departure, at least for me. Toukam had bought his ticket for the next day. Waking early, I began the day with lots of blogging and packing, trying to get prepared before noon. By the end, we were scrambling- going to internet cafes, picking up souvenirs, grabbing sleeping aids, and eating some lunch at a Cuban cafe. Having stuffed all my duffels and procured all that I needed for the 30+ hours of travel ahead, I said my goodbyes to Toukam, who has been the best roommate, travel companion, and navigator that I could have asked for. I regret that he won't be at Columbia next year, but I know he'll be doing great things at Northwestern.

Hoping to get to the airport early, I left with plenty of time to get to Drive Africa, where the transaction would be finalized and someone would take me to the airport. However, there had been some big accidents on the highways in addition to the apparently usual Friday lunchtime traffic. These snags resulted in a 15 minute trip taking 40, and I was slightly flustered by the time I got to the office. However, there was still plenty of time before my plane would leave, so I got to say my goodbyes to the Drive Africa people, who have proven to be fantastic and helpful. At the airport, things went quickly and smoothly and I was soon on my way to JoBurg, NYC, and beyond. It was the end of a period of my life that had been filled with adventure, soul searching, awe-inspiring sights, motivating people, and life changing challenges. It is officially over, and I have to get used to this new and sobering fact in my life, though I have much to look forward to in the weeks and months to come.

Wayward Gardeners

2009-08-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

The night at the Sugar Shack turned out to be satisfactorily peaceful, and I furthered my understanding of so many people's compulsions to live as close to the sea as possible. It wasn't too cold in the pre-dawn morning, and Toukam and I got to shower and pack in peace before exploring the beach for a few moments before heading out. On the sandy shore we encountered a couple of East London's characters, including two guys with energetic collie dogs that would sprint full force into the ocean in pursuit of a seaward projectile and a speedo-clad native performing some sort of ceremony with an empty water jug. Puzzling over such sights, we started up Aslan, who had acquired plenty of overnight condensation, and returned to the N2.

The highlight of the day as we headed towards Mossel Bay was the beginning of the Garden Route. To many this route, which follows the N2 as it approaches Cape Town along the coast, is one of the most beautiful exhibitions of South Africa's best. Though hard to peg superlatives on any part of this amazing country, I won't deny that the sights the Garden Route offers are breathtaking. One of the more irresistible of these sights was Nature's Valley, a cut in the mountains at a large but quiet estuary. The brief and windy detour that it required was well worth the extra time, and we immensely enjoyed looking out over the quiet lake with its sights of feeding fish and enjoying the beach.

With the weight of many more kilometers left to go weighing heavily on my sensibilities, we tore off again, passing through countless seaside towns, including Port Elizabeth, a large harbor city that seemed to be a wonderful place to visit. Eventually we made it to Mossel Bay, which is located in the Western Cape, the province in which Cape Town lies. Like the guidebook had forwarned, the initial appearance of the Mossel Bay was very industrial, but only a slight amount of automotive perseverance brought us to downtown, which is at the end of a peninsula. There we watched as apparently warm-blooded surfers took on huge waves that crashed dangerously on nearby rocks. Though the wind was biting, Toukam and I enjoyed witnessing these great waves batter the rocks. Further along the road we found a path along the edge of a cliff over the water, where truly gigantic waves sent spray up for dozens of yards as they violently pounded the rocky cliff. It was quite a sght to see, and I could only think how appreciative ships must be for the cautioning lighthouse that stands in silent protection.

Though it was getting late, we couldn't resist the sign for an internet cafe, where I updates the blog. Having satiated our cyber appetites, our course took us to that night's lodging at the Santos Express. Quite unlike any backpackers I have ever stayed at, the Santos Express was a train, literally. At some point the owners had acquired the locomotive cars, which stand permanently stationary on a track next to a track currently in use by the town's industrial trains. When checking in, the receptionist warned us about the live track, but I had thought it had been a joke until we heard a train passing while unpacking. Enchanted with the uniqueness of our lodging and making due with its cramped nature, we got settled and decided to return to the surfer beach for dinner.

Recommended by the guide, the King Fisher restaurant sat on the second floor of a complex overlooking the ocean. Excruciatingly hungry, Toukam and I opted for a dinner more characteristic of a opulent feast. Ordering the "Full House" seafood platter, which included copious amounts of mussels, prawns, fish, crab, and calamari, we plunged headlong into Mossel Bay's best. Needless to say, we were thrilled with the meal and we left the establishment quite full and capable only of spending the rest of the night reading and taking it easy.

Waking the next day was marked with an overtone of sobriety, because it would be the day we return to square one- Cape Town. We fought off the potential discouragement from the ending of the Old School Adventure and loaded into the car after an enjoyable continental breakfast in the train. Back on N2 the Garden Route got into full steam and we were awed by sights of immaculate and endless green pastures covering rolling hills that transformed into dramatically rocky mountains in the distance. With the moving shadows from the rolling clouds constantly changing the lighting as we drove, South Africa seemed to be putting on a grand finale of beauty for two of her newest admirers.

We forwent the most direct path back to the Mother City and instead headed away from the coast, towards the Huguenot-founded town of Franschoek. Those loyal readers of the blog may recall that our first attempt at seeing the winelands was sadly sabotaged by rain, thus limiting us from seeing this town, which many consider to be the culinary capitol of all of South Africa. Ironically, it was again raining when we made our way into the foreboding mountains, taking hair-raising hairpin turns on wet cliff-sides. We refused to let the rain water-log our spirits and opted to lunch at a guidebook-recommended restaurant called Bouillabaisse.

The restaurant turned out to be wonderful, both in quality of food and aesthetics. Being a "concept" restaurant, it was small and intimate, with an open galley kitchen running the length of the rectangular diner. We were the only ones there, considering the early hour, and we enjoyed the peaceful setting to admire the funky blown-glass fish and sharp angles that added character to the place. For our food, I could do nothing but order the special for the day- unlimited mussels and frites. It was indeed as delicious and indulgent as it sounds, and I did not at all regret my decision.

At Bouillabaisse

Still having time to spare, Toukam suggested that we go to the local Huegonot museum which, though well done, was almost entirely in French, limiting my understanding. From what I could gather, the Hugonauts, a persecuted Protestant group in France, fled from their country and some of them arrived in the Cape at the bidding of the Dutch East India Company. Upon arrival, they were charged with the task of farming enough food to restock the Company's wayward ships. They were successful at this and established their own subculture in the Cape. However, despite their deep roots in the country, their French culture was somewhat muted by the future British colonists. I'm just thankful that their expertise with food survived til today.

Though we had put up a valiant attempt at stalling our return, the time came when all diversions were exhausted and we found ourselves in Cape Town's city limits, passing the eternally saddening townships as Table Mountain grew in the windshield. Cruising our way down the familiar streets, we arrived at the Backpack, our hostel for the next couple nights and the same one I stayed at prior to Toukam's arrival. For the rest of the day, we busied ourselves with internet cafes and packing before venturing out into the city for dinner at Addis in Cape, an Ethiopian restuarant we had had our eyes on for a while.

It turned out to be a wonderful place to have dinner. We ordered the set menu and were subsequently led through a panorama of no-utensiled foreign food, ranging from pork and lentils to baclava, Having had Ethiopian food only once before, it was a wondrously unique experience. After walking back to the hostel, we met some of our fellow roomies, one of whom turned out to be a huge fan of none other than Floyd McClung! He was in town for other business with a nonprofit, and he had been disappointed to not have been able to meet with Floyd. He and his friend, both from Switzerland, were very nice people and I enjoyed getting to know them before crashing to bed.

Dubious Durban

2009-08-14T01:51:00.000-07:00

We woke up in St. Lucia knowing that there was more to see in Durban, so we headed out early, hoping to beat the Women's Day holiday traffic and see a little of the city before meeting up with Toukam's childhood friend from Camaroon, Patrick. On the road, we found ourselves yet again on an extortionist toll road, made acceptable by the fast speed at which we could drive on it. It was only about 250km to Durban, which meant about a 2.5 hour drive.

The guidebook that we had mentioned a sunday flea market that promised to wow us with its smorgasbord of local items, so we made our way to the sketchy and dirty city center, where we parked Aslan and set out on foot to the Durban exhibition center. It was only after a couple circuitous reroutes that Toukam and I found the flea market, which sprawled across the city center. The guidebook was indeed correct about the large amount of goods, but misled us about their diversity and quality. Unfortunately, it was all the same stuff we had seen sold at tourist shacks across the country. There was one delicious exception, though, and those were the freshly made Indian Samoosa's that we had for breakfast.

The Fleamarket

Still having a couple hours to spend before our rendezvous with Patrick, we walked to the beach which, though touted as a mugger's paradise, was pleasant enough and provided a distinct mark of progress when compared with the landlocked beginnings of our dual adventure. We relieved ourselves with some cool ice cream and talked about the large group of uniformed Methodist women, who had been singing gospel songs in front of the city hall in remembrance of Women's Day. Women's Day in South Africa memorializes a day in the 50's (?) when a huge group of women, both black and white, marched against the government, which had proposed making all women carry passes in order to move around the country. They were successful in the effort, and women around the country celebrate the victory each year.

The Beach

Toukam and I were starting to get nervous about the dubious surroundings of Durban's city center, so we quickly took some photos of a famous mosque and cathedral (separate buildings) and drove northwards to the Berea, a more upscale suburb and the home of Patrick. After unsuccessfully searching for an internet cafe in a mall, we drove to a nearby park and had a pleasant lunch on the grass, and I even snuck in a quick nap. Soon, though, it was time to head to Patrick's place.

As I mentioned, he lives in the Berea in a tall apartment building that proved to be quite stringent in its visitor policy. Right after we parked Patrick, a stout and taciturn Camaroonian, came out to greet us and I witnessed yet another longtime reunion between Toukam and one of his friends. He helped us with our bags and took us up to his third floor apartment, which had a good amount of windows. After getting comfortable, Patrick served us wine, cookies, and cake while catching up with Toukam and keeping the TV blaring the latest episode of Australian "Biggest Loser." We learned that he is a civil engineer and likes living in Durban, despite its grime.

By the time we had finished our homemade snacks, the door to the previously shut bedroom, which had been blasting music for the previous 30 minutes, opened and out came mPome, Patrick's live-in girlfriend. She greeted both of us with bubbling affection, embracing us warmly and allowing her facial expressions to fully convey her excitement at everything we said. Her eyes popped at the description of our past route across the country. Her mouth dropped, agape, at our descriptions of Kruger. Her shrieks of delight accompanied our tales of transnational drives. In short, she was a master of theater. Such lively responses were punctuated only by Patrick's shushing at intervals.

After some brief discussion about what to do that evening, mPome decided on the Box Bar, a hip and contemporary place up the coast about half an hour. Along the way, we listened to the beautiful music of Adele and got to know each-other more. At the bar, which featured two white guys playing Bob Marley and Johnny Cash covers, we had some delicious food and listened to mPome's dubious Zulu dating advice, which included admonitions to "experiment" around with other girls while dating one, as long as you don't get caught. Taking such wisdom with a grain of salt, we left the restaurant and Patrick brought us to a mall where we made some phone calls and saw the latest Harry Potter film, which didn't disappoint too much. By then it was late and we went back to the apartment, where I slept on a very comfortable futon.

Patrick

It was yet another early morning when we left Durban, getting back on the same toll road and heading south along the coast. Passing beach after beach, we couldn't resist pulling off and exploring one, which proved to be a nice diversion. Among the tidal fisherman and bold morning swimmers, we glimpsed yet another area where South Africa proves to be incredibly beautiful. Such relaxing settings must have had a powerful effect on us, because we soon found ourselves off course after missing a turnoff. It was relitively easy to fix, and we took a shortcut that brought us through a bunch of little villages and gave Aslan yet another workout. All was well, though, when we got back on the N2 after about half an hour.

The Stop on the Way

The rest of the day was made up of an excruciatingly long drive that took us up and down hills and through more villages. We had a brief roadside lunch and eventually, as the sun was going down, got into East London. It was a brief search before we got to the Sugar Shack, our accommodation for the night. It turned out to be a wonderful place- it was on the beach and nearly empty, so Toukam and I got to enjoy amazing views of the water and listen to the waves as we slept. We suffered yet another unsuccessful search for an internet cafe and comforted ourselves with some large grilled subs. The rest of the evening was fairly low key, and I got a little closer to the end of Karamazov.

The View from Sugar Shack

Sugar Shack

Kruger Kreatures

2009-08-12T08:37:00.000-07:00

Determined to take advantage of the common knowledge that wild animals are active at dawn, Toukam and I awoke well before the sun came up. We were disappointed to see that we were no cleverer than our fellow campers, and ended up being the fourth group to leave. Recovering from such a blow to our early morning dignity, the team headed back onto the paved road going Eastward into the center of Kruger. Though our self-drive safari was not as immediately gratifying as the day before, we started encountering animals after about an hour beginning with springbok and giraffes and eventually culminating in the morning's highlight of a herd of Buffalo crossing the road. They were the first of the "Big Five" animals that we would see. The other four are lions, leopards, rhinos, and elephants.

Buffalo

We stopped briefly at Satara, an inland camp area, for a hearty breakfast aptly entitled "Dawn Patrol" and a news update from the TV. Before long we were heading out on a dirt road, the S100, which Joel had recommended as having many animals. Our following his advice was soon rewarded when we came upon a large group of cars parked at a bend in the road. We consulted some of the enraptured drivers and found out that in a partially obscured ravine there was nothing other than an elusive leopard lounging by the river. Our binoculars worked perfectly, and we got a satisfactory glimpse at the great cat in all its relaxed glory.

Further along that same road, a dip in the road over a river gave us close views of the most dangerous of all the animals in the park- the hippo. There were about 5 of them almost completely submerged in the water, noticeable only by their quivering ears. On the other side of the road in the river were two sunbathing crocodiles, covered in caked mud. Finally, right when we were about to drive on, we spotted what I think is a monitor lizard but what Toukam claims is an iguana about 2 feet from the car. Perhaps a more biologically-minded reader can settle the argument.

Returning to the paved road once again, we faced about an hour without any significant sights. However, please don't be fooled by the "significant" part- by this time we had become desensitized to the otherwise-wondrous appearance of giraffes, zebras, kudu, wildabeest, warthogs, springbok, and every sort of bird. Just when we were on the edge of boredom, a watering hole brought the most memorable moment of the day.

As we passed on a raised levee on the side of a large watering hole, we witnessed a herd of elephants some 12 members large. They were perhaps 200 yards away, splashing around in the muddy water, flinging mud on their backs, and looking after the couple of baby elephants around. Awed by the sight, we got even more excited when the elephants moved closer to us and started scratching themselves on a tree. The grand finale, though, was when the entire herd started walking away from the watering hole- and directly toward the car! Luckily for our sense of safety, they were crossing behind the car, leaving our escape open, but the 20 foot difference between their location and ours made for some drama. As the largest elephant in the heard crossed with a baby in tow, it spotted Toukam, who was hanging out the window taking pictures. It stopped. Standing in the road, facing us, it started stomping its feet and flapping its ears, a definite sign of aggression. Toukam yelled for me to start driving, and I yelled at him to take more pictures. Luckily for us, the elephant calmed down, but the experience of having the largest living thing I have ever seen about to charge was quite exhilarating. The big one continued on and we watched as the rest of the herd crossed the road and disappeared into the bush.

Ready to Charge

Knowing that that experience would be hard to beat, we continued our search for the remaining two members of the Big Five, the hino and the lion. Over the next two hours, after grabbing some lunch at a bird-infested camp site, we spotted more animals including baboons, another leopard (this time camouflaged in a tree), and more antelope. To our joy, we finally came upon a group of cars that were all looking at a huge solitary rhino, which was lounging in the grass. It was the second rhino we had seen, but the first had been nearly impossible to see. Feeling like we could perhaps pull off seeing all 5 in one day of driving, we neared the southern border of the park. With about 20km left to go, we encountered another, though smaller, herd of elephants grazing on some trees. These ones were less aggressive and passed right in front of some cars without incident.

We continued. Upon getting to the 5km mark before the gate, Toukam and I began to lose hope in finding a lion. However, in a dramatic moment of poetic justice, we happened upon another group of cars. We whispered prayers for lions and we were vindicated upon hearing from a fellow driver that, far away and barely visible, a solitary lion was lounging on a bank of sand. Though perhaps not the ideal way of seeing one, we were thrilled to have seen every one of the Big Five, with only 2km to spare of the 250 we drove!

Happy with our Kruger experience, we exited from a southern gate and headed towards Jeppes Reef, a border post with Swaziland. Oddly, we first passed through a lush golf course, complete with properly-dressed golfers teeing off, a sight I found strange in the middle of Africa. Heading towards the border, we were hoping to get Toukam into Swaziland somehow, despite his not having a proper visa. It was a bet against the capability of Swaziland border officials, and our hourlong detour was met with much time crossing borders, but only South African ones. The Swaziland authorities noticed the lack of a visa and we turned back. In the midst of our international disappointment, though, we were cheered by a South African official who went out of his way to shake Toukam's hand and tell him that he really respects all Camaroonians.

With daylight fading quickly, we made our way to Barberton, our base for the night. It was a two hour drive and it was dark when we got to the town. Calling the tourist office, we were directed to the Phoenix Hotel, where we ended up staying for the night. Comforted by its nomenclature being so reminiscent of home, we got settled and had dinner in the empty hotel restaurant. The special, chicken schnitzel, was alright, and it was priced at a wonderful 5 dollars. Halfway through the meal a portly and tipsy Briton, limping and wincing from the pain of his pulled back, came up and introduced himself as the owner of the hotel. He was kind enough to offer a lot of travel advice and, upon hearing of my plan to leave Toukam at the border while I spent the day exploring Swaziland and then drive to Durban in one day, strongly urged us to skip Swaziland and make headway towards Durban. According to his advice, our current course would have us only driving and not seeing anything. Bummed at the removal of Swaziland from the next day's plans, I agreed to take his advice and we modified our plans so that we would be driving to St. Lucia, a town about 2 hours east of Durban along the highway.

Before heading to St. Lucia the next morning, we took some photos at the first stock exchange in South Africa, located in Barberton and founded in the 1800's. Though quite lame, it was fun to connect with the beginnings of South Africa's financial history. From there, all I can say was that we spent nearly 9 hours driving down the highway, stopping in Piet Retief for a KFC lunch, and wading through endless construction. Eventually, as we neared the end of our nerves, we got to St. Lucia, which lies on a drying estuary along the coast. We drove to the town and had a delicious dinner at Fishy Pete's, which touted the slogan of "Fish so fresh, their next of kin don't know they're here yet." We enjoyed some cheap but delicious seafood kababs before driving to a Zulu town a little outside St. Lucia, where we slept in a slightly dilapidated backpackers hotel, complete with floors covered with tile-patterned paper. As we fell asleep in the humid air, I thought about what the arrival in St. Lucia meant- the begging of the end of our Old School Adventure.

The Stock Exchange

The Breathtaking Bush

2009-08-12T07:10:00.000-07:00

With the unyielding sound of my alarm clock at 6AM we awoke and prepared for yet another day brought forth with much driving. Luckily for us, the process of leaving was unhindered, as the manager was awake and could unlock the gate for the car. Our journey started off with success as we made our way back to the highway without any misdirection, a marked difference from the night before. To our shock, rush hour was in full swing at 7AM for commuters heading to JoBurg, which was the opposite direction from our course, thankfully.

The land flattened out as we passed through some more toll booths and all was going well until we realized that our gas ("petrol") was getting low and found out that the next gas station on the route was out of range, according to a toll attendant. Sobered by this fact but energized by the break in the monotony, my fearless navigator rerouted us to Butha Butha, a large town about 20km off the main highway. It was a pleasant place, although the pungently permeating smoke from the nearby townships offered asthma-inducing coughs, and we got our fill of gas, supplies, and cheap scones for breakfast.

On our way back to the highway we passed by a handful of shacks selling everything from biltong to fresh ginger ale, and it was only with the greatest effort that we resisted such temptation. Once back on the highway, it was two more hours until we arrived at the provincial capitol of Limpopo, Polokwane. It was there that we met up with Toukam's friend from his days at DePauw University in Indiana and current Peace Corps volunteer, Joel. Joel was in the town for his weekly run for supplies like bananas and toilet paper, and we happily agreed to join him on his errand running after a joyful reunion between him and Toukam.

After a refreshing snack of soft serve ice cream, Joel took off to pick up some mended shoes while Toukam and I talked at a local coffee shop. Before long, Joel was back and ready to take us to his village, which was about 50 minutes' drive away. To my delight, he offered to drive, and I got an extremely rare chance to actually ride in a car instead of drive it. The drive itself was pleasant as we meandered through low mountains and passed through sprawling towns.

Joel's village, called Ntooseng, is populated by about 300 hundred families, has a primary and high school, and needs a lot of help. The Peace Corps sent Joel there to work with a woman named Mama Mavis, who has started a program with Maringa Trees, which have enough protein and vitamins to help families with just one tree get all the nutritious supplements they need. In addition to that work, he helps with a "drop in" center, where orphaned children can get a meal, and teaches a lifestyle ("awakening") class at the high school. He was gracious enough to host the both of us for the day and night, and it was an incredible experience.

As he took us around the village, greeting fellow residents in their native language, and allowed us to glimpse into the life he has been living for a year and a half. At the drop in center, we got to meet a group of volunteer ladies who work tirelessly to help the orphans and see the garden where they grow vegetables and Maringa trees. To top it all off, we got to have a meal of the food they had given the orphans, a combination of beans and corn meal, which we ate with our hands, which was a lot of fun.

Ditching the Fork

The Garden

Back at Joel's place, we chatted while some local kids climbed all over Aslan and touched Toukam and my hair and face. The weather was pleasantly warm, and I enjoyed hearing more about what sort of experience Joel has had. His living quarters, consisting of a room and concrete living area, are cheerfully decorated but notably sparse in luxuries like running water, sinks, counters, and much electricity. For dinner, we went over to Mama Mavis' house, where we ate some curry that Joel had made along with rice and salad that the Mavis family had prepared. We also got to meet Mama Mavis, who had the air of a supremely loving person who has and continues to work tirelessly for the benefit of others. We returned to Joel's home where we enjoyed a smoldering fire outside and more conversation. Exhausted, I turned in to bed and left the two old friends to catch up.

Joel's Pad

Up with the dawn the next morning, Toukam and I took some time to experience another aspect of Joel's life- sponge baths. Since there isn't any running water, bathing is reduced to a bucket of water, procured from the town's water tap and partially boiled in a water boiler, and a wash cloth. This process, executed in the living area of Joel's home, was an interesting experience, and I resolved never to complain about a lack of pressure or cleanliness from any running shower I will ever encounter again.

Getting Water

We quickly said goodbye to Mama Mavis and dropped off Joel at the high school before getting back on the road, this time to the east with Kruger National Park as our destination. The beginning of the long drive was a monotonous sea of villages, but soon the mountains got bigger and we found ourselves in Blyde River Canyon, a dramatic opening between mountains that is rumored to be the third largest in the world. At a lookout called Three Rondavals, Toukam and I took in breathtaking views of the canyon, with the Olifants river raging below.

Next up was God's Window, another lookout, this time from the cliff-like edge of a plateau looking out onto a huge forest below. Though it was an impressive sight, it was hard to compare with Three Rondavals. It was frightening, though, when our departure was nearly completely sealed off by a screaming mob of South African school children.

It was a couple more hours on a twisty road that ran though tall forests of pine trees before we turned off onto an abandoned road that took us through the Orpen Gate and into Kruger National Park. The fee to get in was slightly exorbitant, but it was soon rendered worthwhile as our first half hour in the park was met with a wildebeest, springbok, and giraffes. We only had an hour before getting back to our camp site, which was quite crowded, and we had high hopes for the next day, which would be almost entirely composed of driving around the park.

Wildabeest

Finding a grill at the campsite, we opted for a dinner consisting of something meatier than peanut butter and honey. It was a quick drive back to the gate, where we found a shop that sold marinated kabobs and, to my delight, springbok pelts. I picked one up for a decent price, and I look forward to the shocked looks that Columbia liberals will give when they come into my dorm room this year. Haha

At the grill (Sorry about the layout)

After some significant foibles in making the fire start and remain lit without the grill falling down and spilling the fire all over the ground, we got it to the coals and began grilling the succulent skewers. They turned out deliciously and we enjoyed a very luxurious meal at the campsite. We spent the rest of the evening talking and getting some heat from the dying flames, eventually taking refuge from the cold in our tent. The next day was fraught with possibilities of wildlife encounters, and it did not disappoint.

And finally, the promised photo of Toukam and I on our horses in Lesotho:

Small Town, Big City

2009-08-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

Waking up with the dawn at Malealea lodge in Lesotho, Toukam and I hurriedly took pressure-less showers and packed up the Corolla, getting into the furious pace that had come to define the trip. Toukam paid for the room, dinner, and horse ride while I warmed up the car, which had frosted over in the Lesotho night. Soon we were bouncing along the dirt road, passing by Paradise Gate, and charging down the paved road eastwards.

The main highway was as potholed as ever, so we took our time as we explored scenic routes that took us through poverty-stricken towns and fist-clenchingly close calls with animals of all types. In some of the towns, we saw Chinese owned stores, which reminded us of our guides words the previous day, when he told us how the Chinese have build clothing factories all around Lesotho, which pay nearly nothing and work the people to the bone. It is so sad to see such advantage-taking going on, but interesting to see how far the reaches of Chinese industry go.

After an hour or two of driving, we were faced with the capitol, Maseru, which was essentially a huge town, with the same huts and poor roads, but on a huge scale. Declining to explore (get lost in) the city center, we bypassed the most crowded bits and continued on the Lesotho highway, which pretty much skirts the border with South Africa.

We rolled over hills and valleys while admiring the continued views of large snow capped mountains and colorfully dressed locals. Interestingly, we were stopped at a police checkpoint, where they inspected my documentation and waved me through- I guess there's a problem with license-less drivers in Lesotho. It was only another hour or so before we reached the quiet border post, which we went through without hindrance and made our way to Fouriesburg, a border town where we hoped to find lunch.

Our first attempt, the Windmill Cafe, was closed, but after consulting a French-speaking Portuguese shop owner, we got to a local hotel where Toukam got a cheeseburger that required more of a separation between "cheese" and "burger", because it was simply a burger with a cold slab of cheese on top. It was a pleasant lunch and we were soon on our way to our home for the night- Clarens.

The drive to Clarens was short but incredibly scenic, and when we arrived we were faced with a multitude of art shops, which ranged from trendy to aboriginal. Our browsing took up some time, and we eventually got some home made biltong (South African beef jerky) and enjoyed its salty flavors as we continued. Without finding anything worth buying, we began our search for our accommodation for the night: Clarens Inn.

After a couple passes on a dirt road, we came upon the "inn", which was much more like an abandoned military compound in appearance. Finding the manager out back chopping some trees town, we got ourselves sorted out in our mildly smelly dorm room. Our initial suspicions about the place were soon assuaged as we got to know Kevin and Andre, the two people running the place. They were both incredibly nice and hospitable, attributes that were made clear as they arranged a braii (BBQ) with the guests and built a huge bonfire for our temperature needs. Toukam and I accompanied Kevin to the butcher, where we picked out the evening's grub and listened to Kevin's horror stories from living in JoBurg. Back at the hostel, the fire was in full swing and Kevin took it upon himself to cook all of the food himself, much to our pleasure.

With all the hard stuff taken care of, we sat around the fire sipping the complimentary sherry and meeting our fellow guests, who included a grad student couple from Duke who were studying liberal arts (they wouldn't say anything more specific), a woman whose family was from Zimbabwe but was driven to live in Mozambique, and a woman from Clarens who was friends with Kevin and Andre. We had some great conversation, made better by Andre's skillful playing of a didgeridoo and Nate and Nathalia's (the couple from Duke) tales of two wheel drive mishaps in both South Africa and Swaziland.

As it got late, Toukam and I did a payphone run and retired to bed. Knowing we wanted to get to JoBurg as early as possible, we awoke before dawn, quickly showered, and got on the road. Before getting to the capitol, though, we drove through Golden Gate Park, one of the few national parks in existence because of natural beauty instead of wildlife. It was a very pleasant drive and we enjoyed all the views we had of the cliffs as we twisted and turned down the road trying not to be blinded by the new sun.

Before long we were on the fast moving toll road that would take us into the heart of JoBurg. It took about 3 hours to get to the city, and the drive was pretty boring. Upon arrival, Toukam nearly perfectly directed us to the Apartheid Museum, which was in the south of the city. We spent about 4 hours at the museum, which was incredible and featured a large special exhibit on the life and accomplishments of Nelson Mandela. Perhaps the most poignant part of the museum was its entrance, which had separate doors for whites and blacks- your race was assigned by the ticketer. As Toukam and I entered in separate doors (He was white, I was black), we started the process of learning a ton about life in South Africa when the government did its best to separate the different races in every way possible. In addition to its educational value, the museum had a profound impact, and I left feeling a lot more informed and emotionally connected to this country.

With the fear of carjacking and mugging in our hearts, we made a beeline to Sandton, a very wealthy northern suburb where Brian, Toukam's friend, lives. Before meeting up with Brian, though we returned my rental satellite phone, which was a process fraught with incompetence. Soon after getting the phone off my hands Brian had arrived and he and Toukam were soon sharing stories from their time together in Cameroonian boarding school. He decided to take us on a tour of that part of JoBurg in his new red BMW, blasting French pop music the whole way.

The first stop was Mandela Square, the location of a huge upscale mall and one of the best hotels in JoBurg. We had a quick lunch there before we had a whirlwind tour of Hyde Park, the most exclusive and expensive of JoBurg's suburbs. There we found huge houses that were surrounded by gigantic walls of more than 20 feet with electrified tops and guards posted at every entrance. It was like exploring a compound of modern day castles, where defense was the main priority.

We relaxed at Brian's bachelor pad and eventually decided to get back on the road before rush hour got too bad. We were staying in Pretoria, so it was about a two hour drive north through construction-hindered roads before we got to the city, but had not the faintest idea of how to get to the hostel. As the sun set, we found that the directions that the hostel people were giving us were completely wrong resulting in about half an hour of running around before getting to the hostel, which was nothing more than a large house run by some African teenagers. The price was right and after unpacking we went to a nearby square to get dinner. We found out later that we ate in the college nightlife center of the city, which explained the crowded bars on a Tuesday night. Our Italian food was filling and we topped it off with an internet cafe visit.

It wasn't long after we got a parking spot back at the hostel that we were falling asleep while trying to carry on a conversation with an extremely talkative Dutch traveller. He had arrived in Swaziland and was making his way to Cape Town by Baz Bus, an Australian hop on hop off service around South Africa, where he would go on an overland tour through southern Africa, much like the one I mentioned in my first post. Finally he decided to cease his talking and we were quickly asleep, though our initial slumber was interrupted by more roommates coming in later.

A Quick Update

2009-08-08T08:46:00.001-07:00

Hello Readers,

I'm sorry for the lack of updates- this is the first time I've had internet since my last one. Unfortunately, it's expensive, so I will just let you know that I am safely in St. Lucia, South Africa, heading to Durban tomorrow. We had a great time in Kruger and with Toukam's friend in Limpopo. Hopefully tomorrow will bring a better update.

In other news, I've been accepted as an opinion colmnist for the Columbia Spectator! This year is going to be great. Talk to you soon!

Rendezvous and Repairs

2009-08-04T11:47:00.000-07:00

Hello Reader, I hope you have not been concerned about the lack of posting that I have done in the past couple days. The absence is merely due to a disappointing lack of online infrastructure in places like the Free State and Lesotho. Despite the setback, I'm sure you will be happy to know that I am safe and sound in Pretoria after a brief exploration of Johannesburg. The last four days have been wonderful, and I'll try my best to get you caught up, though I suspect I won't get all the way up to today in my tale.

Once I relocated to my second bed and breakfast in Upington, I proceeded to fill my two day furlough with mundaneties like having Aslan's tires and brakes checked out, the exhaust pipe welded, and his interior washed. It was a tedious errand indeed, but it was necessary and allowed me to both feel more confident in the further technological success of our journey and appreciate a clean car once again, after all traces of Namibian desert sand were vacuumed away. In the time between such errands, I entertained myself with Karamazov (which has really started picking up), watching TV (the Discovery channel, to justify my vegetation), and eating fish and chips (greasy enough to be very enjoyable). Soon, though, Saturday morning arrived and after a two hour delay in arriving, Toukam was sitting beside me and we were on our brisk way to our next stop- Kimberley.

Aslan Under the Knife

The Bed and Breakfast

Happy to have someone to chat with (as well as change CD's, navigate, and give me my sunglasses), we both caught each other up on the happenings of the previous two weeks. It seems that Toukam did an outstanding job in sealing up the apartment and getting through the slow and inefficient "InterCape Bus" system. The terrain, to my delight, turned from monotonous plains to expansive hills that boasted wildlife on either side. At midday we ate our inaugural peanut butter and honey sandwiches and continued on the road, which began to get rainy.

Recovering from the disappointment of facing such precipitation we arrived in Kimberley, which is the provincial capitol of the Northern Cape and former diamond center of Africa and the World. It was here that Cecil Rhodes bought up all the diamond mines in the area and made the largest diamond company the world had ever seen, which cornered 90% of the global diamond market. A "living" testament to the industry is found in what is literally called "The Big Hole". Though quite a humorous title, this "Big Hole" is what remains from a huge diamond mine- a 200 meter deep opening in the earth that was hand dug by African miners who frequently perished in the attempt.

Though Toukam and I enjoyed making fun of the hilariously simple name for the landmark, the exhibit and movie that accompanied it was really quite fascinating and we both were adequately diverted by its information. To get to the exhibit area, though, we had to go into an elevator that, though it only descended one floor, was accompanied by sounds of mining and explosions as it went down, which apparently warranted the warnings of "Don't Run!" Once the elevator opened, we were faced with a mini underground replica of a mine shaft, which then opened up to the main exhibition hall, which even housed some real diamonds protected by an armed guard.

Prior to visiting the Big Hole, though, Toukam and I had spent some time exploring the surprisingly large and high quality art gallery in Kimberley's civic center. Though we were the only patrons we saw during our visit, the curators were an enthusiastic bunch who chatted with us about the art, which ranged from tribal bowls and old furniture to marble statues and political pop art. In our brief visit we were stuck by the outstanding range of art that this country has been host to in the past and will in the future. We gladly payed our 5 rand entrance fee and bid our farewells to the curators.

Back at the hostel, we got to know Juliet, a Texas A&M PhD student who was travelling around South Africa to photograph thousands of fossils of ancient antelopes to standardize their classification. As achingly interesting as that sounds, we all went to a neighboring bar, where we watched a bit of a New Zealand vs South Africa rugby game and got to know each other. She was nice company, and it saddened us to see how lonely she was out there in Kimberley, though her near departure was sure to help things. The game was interesting, but soon hunger was knocking on our consciousness and we walked to Mario's, a local Italian food place where we had a very nice dinner of pasta, prawns, and snails.

Thankful that the rain had ceased, Toukam and I ventured back to Greatbatch Backpackers, an offshoot of a bed and breakfast that provided a somewhat disappointing end to our first day. The hostel, though cheap, was of dubious quality. The room itself was crammed with ten beds and the rubber floors seemed to collect water from outside. The showers and toilets, which were accessible by a tiny alley narrower than my shoulders, were separated from each other only by one sheet of corrugated tin. On top of all those grievances, a bunch of African laborers were staying there as well and proceeded to keep us up with load music and drunken travel recommendations. All in all, though, Kimberley was pleasant and we awoke acceptably refreshed and ready to continue our trek.

It was with great joy that we greeted the cloudless sky and boarded our vehicle on Sunday. Our destination was Lesotho, but hundreds of kilometers stood in our way. Refusing to be fazed, Toukam guided me out of Kimberley and onwards towards Bloemfontein, the very Africaans capital of the more Africaans Free State province. The scenery on the way was enjoyable, but the truly refreshing aspect of the drive was in Bloemfontein, where we got out and took some photos of the unexpectedly nice architecture of the city center. We briefly talked with some Africaaner tourists and lamented the dirty status of a public square before leaving the city, though not without of navigational struggles.

Before we could get to the expanses of farmland that proceeded crossing the border to Lesotho we got to drive through a large township, which was as sobering an experience as ever. It never seems to be a comfortable sight- seeing so many people in abject poverty. I guess that's a good thing, that desensitivity doesn't kick in too quickly.

Before we knew it we were driving up to the South African departure station, where after a confusing parking situation we got our passports stamped and proceeded to the Lesotho border crossing, which proved a little more traumatic. After getting our stamps, the border official told us that the road tax was 4,000 Rand, a price of about 500 US dollars. Completely taken aback by such a large sum being requested, we argued for a little and eventually the official just asked for 4 rand, about 50 cents. Confused by the whole situation, we were only boggled more when we later found out that other people were charged 24 rand.

It was immediately apparent to us that Lesotho was a poverty-riddled country. From the pothole-filled roads to the ubiquitous presence of unheated shacks as houses, images of desperation and depletion were everywhere. It was fascinating to drive though so many small villages and see the way the people lived, though it definitely pulled on the heartstrings. Eventually after about 70 km of road that wound through hills and valleys, we arrived at Paradise Gate, a lookout point at the crest of a mountain ridge that displayed the breathtaking mountain views that we would enjoy for the rest of the day.

From the Gate, which was emblazoned with the quote "Pause, Wayfarer, and witnesses the Gateway to Paradise," we drove to Malealea Lodge, our accommodation for the night. It's a great compound, complete with peacocks, chickens, and ponies, and the room that they gave us seemed quite comfortable. When we drove in, we were greeted by a large group of Dutch tourists sitting around the campfire trying to warm themselves and the receptionist, who suggested that we do a horse ride around the mountains. Having heard that this was the only way to really appreciate Lesotho, we jumped at the opportunity.

Once the horses were all saddled up our guide, Thato, took us on a 2 hour journey during which he told us copious amounts of information about Lesotho and the local area and showed us even more breathtaking scenery. Unfortunately the photos of the scenery and of my horse, Taylor, are on Toukam's camera and I won't be able to upload them until later. Hopefully you can paint an adequate mental picture.

Returning to the lodge with sore legs and a new appreciation for Lesotho, we soon found ourselves enjoying the native music of the Malealea City Chorus, which consisted of about 30 villagers who sang beautifully. So impressed were we by the music that we bought the CD and have enjoyed the music while driving. Soon, though, it was time for dinner and after sitting down as close to the fire as possible we were joined by a French couple, who proved to be hilarious and engaging as they told of their adventures in a car that wouldn't go into first gear. As the night got darker and the air colder, Toukam and I decided to retire and slept well in our beds after such a long and adventurous cross-border day.

Impromptu Events

2009-07-31T03:16:00.000-07:00

Though the frigid air of my unheated room didn't motivate me to get out of my animal fur bed, I resisted the urge to sleep forever and forced my feet to make friends with the cold concrete floor. My strong constitution was rewarded with a steamy, though salty, shower. Apparently the groundwater under the Kalahari is far from fresh, making it almost ocean like in its saline taste. The water's heat, though, drastically outweighed its saltiness and I enjoyed the shower before getting dressed and packing my stuff up once again.

I had to start the car about 5 minutes before leaving because lately when Aslan's been sitting out in the cold, it starts to squeak when I turn the wheel- a side effect of the new fan belt, I think. However, after heating up there emit no noises from under the hood. I saw Jill again and said my goodbyes and thank yous, happy to know that she was heading to town soon after me, a handy assurance against my getting stuck in the sand for too long. However, my worries proved unwarranted as myself and the car propelled ourselves through the sand without incident. A victorious start to the morning, indeed.

In Tshabong I stopped at another Barclays where I withdrew enough gas to then fill up the car for the long ride ahead. I had to consult a couple of locals about the way to the border, but eventually I was passing through the gates of Botswana departure immigration and entering the slightly higher-end South African border post at McCarthy's Rest. I was the only traveler there and the officials seemed slightly reluctant to drag themselves into the cold to inspect my vehicle and do my paperwork. They eventually did do it, and with a positive attitude to boot. They gave me another stamp in my passport, asked some questions about my intentions, and let me go.

From there it was an hour on a well maintained dirt road before I arrived in a small mining town. I didn't find any place to grab a cup of coffee, but I did find an ATM and enjoyed a quick car tour around the town, which was almost entirely built and managed by the mine. Like an African version of Del Webb, the mine had posted street signs, build accommodation, and provided health clinics for the residents. As far as I could tell, it was quite well maintained and organized.

Mining Town

Soon I was once again cruising on a paved road, this time eastward towards Upington. I had decided to bypass Upington, since I was to be staying there on Thursday and Friday, and instead go to Agrabies Falls, a national park that the head of Joe and Janice's tour recommended to me and had a nice blurb in my guidebook. On the way, I called a hostel near the falls and booked a bed. It turned out to be a long drive, and I decided to stop in Upington to rest and update the blog. I resisted the temptation to explore the town, though, since I wanted to save some exploration for my two day rest in the town.

Upington

It was another hour of driving before I reached the turnoff for the Agrabies Backpackers Hostel, which lay along a curvy dirt road amongst some farms and orange orchards. My arrival was immediately heralded by two large dogs on the property and I was directed to the parking area by some long-haired German guests. I then met the manager, who was a tall, grey haired man who had the look and demeanor of a still-recovering child of the 70's. He told me about where I would sleep and, after lending him my Botswana map, I soon headed out once again, this time to the park itself.

I had called earlier to reserve a half-day canoe. hike, and bike trip that the park offered, but found that I had to have a minimum of 2 people to make it happen. Disappointed but unfazed, I asked about the night game drive, for which I found I needed four people to make happen. The receptionist informed me, to my delight, that that very same evening there were enough people signed up for the game drive and I could sign on. Saddened by all my planning for the next day exploded but excited at the prospect of a night game drive, I agreed to go that same night.

At about 5pm I arrived at the park, where I was agitated to hear that I had to pay the 10 dollar park fee on top of the game drive fee, despite the late hour of the day. I begrudgingly paid it and made up my mind to get my money's worth out of the park. With that in mind, I parked and proceeded to enjoy looking at the gargantuan falls from all the provided lookout points as the sun counted down the minutes of enjoyment I had left.

Though the falls are not the largest in Africa (that title belongs to Victoria Falls) Agrabies is definitely a sight to see. Raging white water careens through the slick sides of the solid rock canyon before the largest falls leave the water tumultuously lapping up the sides of a sheer gorge. It was especially beautiful to see the setting sun's rays bounce off the mist that rose from the point of watery impact. I shared these dramatic views with a bunch of foreign senior citizens, who looked at me and my young solitude with puzzlement.

After eating my usual dinner, this time with the shocking addition of sardines, and making some phone calls, the night drive truck arrived and a German family of four joined me in entering the too-large compartment. I lamely attempted some German discussion with the family, whose paternal units weren't too adept at English, but I was grateful when the truck's engines became too loud for bilingual conversation. Our two native guides drove us through the park, holding powerful spotlights up to the darkness, hoping to spot the reflection in the eyes of some animals.

It was a successful time, and we got to see a porcupine, jackal, zebras, and a bunch of different types of antelope. Unfortunately, due to the darkness, I don't have any photos. I guess you'll have to take my word for it. In addition to game spotting, the guides also took a couple minutes to stop the truck and point out constellations in the easily-seen stars above. It was a great outdoorsy experience. After about two hours, we were back at the reception and I made my way home through the darkness to the hostel, where I chatted with the German guests before heading to bed.

The next morning, after a peaceful sleep, I got ready for the day, for which I had no plan. I spoke with the head of the hostel and asked for suggestions. He suggested that I continue driving down the paved highway, which would meander through the wilderness and take me through a dramatic valley. That sounded good enough for me and after paying him and giving him my Botswana map that he desperately needed, I filled up the car and drove into the valley.

Located further down the river from the falls, the valley was rocky and punctuated by large hills. Between the river and the valley walls, there was a huge vineyard and a small dilapidated town. Amazed at the beauty of the valley, I headed across the river via a one lane bridge and continued on the road after it turned to gravel. Tired of constantly sitting and driving, I decided to park Aslan and make up for my defeat at the hands of the Sossusvlei dunes and climb one of the large hills/small mountains. It would have been perfectly pleasant, had an army of flies not assailed me constantly, but the view from the top was worth it.

The Valley

Aslan in Action

The View

To my disappointed I didn't see any animals, but I entertained myself with some hilltop Karamazov. Eventually it was time to return and I chose a different route, which went through a dry river bed, to get back to the car. I enjoyed my small adventure in the valley and rode out of it with reluctance. Now that hunger was starting to set in, I opted to stop for lunch at the Rose Cafe, which I had spotted earlier in the day. It was a pleasant and well-lit cafe, and I allowed my hunger for meat compel me to order a cheeseburger, which was delicious albeit messy. To top it all off, I got a chocolate milkshake, which tasted like heaven.

The Rose Cafe

Once again lacking any plan, I decided to drive to Upington a day early. It took about an hour and a half and when I got there, I found that the hostel had closed and the B&B I was to stay at the next two nights was too full to add on a night for me. Eventually I called the central booking line for Upington, who found me an expensive (45 dollar) room at a bed and breakfast for the night. I was too tired and desperate to argue, so I took it. After weaving my way through suburban streets I eventually found Idenland Guest House, which is located in the home of a wealthy Africaans family with a vineyard in the back yard. The room was quite nice and I spoiled myself by wasting away my evening with TV and bad scary movies.

Trans-Kalahari

2009-07-30T06:34:00.000-07:00

It was with great care that I awoke and prepared myself for the day, since there were 5 other sleeping young people in the room who I doubted wanted to be woken up at 6:50. Try as I may, I couldn't help the seemingly earth-shattering noise that the creaky door made and the apparently deafening crinkling of my bags. However as usual my paranoia was unfounded and I managed to escape the room without waking any of my neighbors. It was a freezing morning, and I made haste to dump my belongings in my dusty trunk and check out as soon as possible.

Breakfast was composed of some rice krispies cereal and toast, eaten out in the freezing cold. I didn't mind, considering how drastic of a change it was from my usual. At the reception, I tried to change as many of my Namibian dollars into South African Rand, so that I could pay the border tax when I got to Botswana- hopefully averting another cash disaster. Finally, when I thought I was finally ready to hit the road, I realized that I didn't have my sunglasses and was relieved to find that they had braved the cold night on a shelf at the bar after some good Samaritan had found them. With all my belongings now found and in place, I popped another CD in the stereo and sped east out of Windhoek, passing the airport that lies surprisingly far from the city, and towards Gababis- the only major town between the capitol and the border.

The scenery that I found once I had left the hills of Windhoek was defined by flat expanses of dry grass interrupted by many bushy trees. It was to be the landscape of the next three days.

After a couple hours I arrived in Gobabis, where I filled up my tank and continued on with only about 1.5 hours until the border. There, I made my way quickly through immigration on the Namibian side and passed by a friendly sign thanking me for my visit. Soon after, I was faced with Botswanian border control. It was quite straightforward, and I was even able to get rid of my Namibian dollars by paying my car tax with them! It was thrilling.

The first major difference that I noticed upon entering Botswana was the lack of fencing along the highway, which resulted in myriad animals of varying species occupying the road and inopportune moments. In spite of this fact, the local Botswanians in front of me drove at a furious pace and would helpfully slow down and put their hazard lights on in the event of a nearby animal. The road itself was well maintained and paved and had occasional places to rest and eat lunch.

Though there are far fewer large towns in Botswana, a bunch of small villages make up for the difference. On both sides of the road I passed small outposts of thatched-roofed huts with no roads or facilities, populated by individuals donning colorful African garb and riding donkeys to herd their livestock. It didn't take long for me to realize that Botswana was a far less wealthy country than Namibia.

It took about 2 more hours to get to Ghanzi, the only large town I would visit in Botswana. It too had a dirt roads, but boasted two supermarkets and a bunch of buildings including a gas station and bank, where I withdrew some local currency, called Pula. I grabbed some lunch from the trunk of the car in front of the bank, which was a out of place looking Barclays, before quickly touring the town by car and getting back on the highway, hoping to visit D'Khar, a San people town with a museum and crafts. It took about 20 minutes to finally get to the town, and when I arrived I found that everything was closed, as it was a Sunday.

Faced with what had been a boring and uneventful day, a spirit of adventure began whispering in my ear. It calculated how much time I had to be in Upington and suggested that maybe I could manage to go all the way around Botswana and back to South Africa instead of cutting through the monotonous Kalahari. After all, I was used to driving long distances, wasn't I? It would be fun to find places to stay and see the whole of Botswana in a matter of 4 days!

I took out my maps and started doing some calculating of my own and, finding that there were immense distances included in that route and not too much to see even then, I turned back from D'Khar and headed to my campsite in Thakadu Camp, about 5 minutes south of Ghanzi.

This camping area had been recommended by my guide and after a short drive on a rough unpaved road, on which I spotted some large game animals, I was speaking with Chris, the good-humored burly red-faced English-accented Zambian who owned and ran the place. He gave me the run down of the property, which is about 5,000 acres and was converted to a game reserve and camping spot 10 years ago after he had used the land for a dairy farm since 1988. In addition to camp sites, the place has a restaurant, bar, and watering hole illuminated by floodlights to show of the game at sunset. The place was so nice, in fact, that none other than Hugh Grant and Prince Henry had stayed there- and Chris had pictures to prove it. I immediately knew I had chosen well.

I set up camp quickly and spent some time reading and listening to, you guessed it, Catch 22, before walking back to the reception/restaurant/bar, where I chatted with Chris while sipping a rum and tonic. As it got later, locals from Ghanzi arrived and ordered dinner. Realizing that this was also a favorite place of the locals, I decided to eat dinner there and ordered a Kudu steak and mashed potatoes. When the wild game dinner arrived, I enjoyed every bite of it.

It got late and, remembering the lack of a fire at my previous camping nights, got some firewood and had a nice long fireside evening. I'd like to think that I was pondering the mysteries of the universe as I poked and prodded the orange flames, but I recall those fireside thoughts being much more down to earth. Soon the flames devolved into embers and I decided to retire. It was a long, freezing night, but I managed to get some shut-eye.

The evening before I had spoken to Chris about my route and we had both agreed that four nights in the Kalahari was definite overkill. With that in mind, I awoke ready to drive all the way to a border town, skipping the village and town that I had planned on sleeping in. The day started off hilariously when Chris' pet lamb came into the bathroom as I was showering, bleating loudly as other campers tried to shoo it away. It was a uniquely rural experience.

Soon I was packed up and driving down the dirt road again. I turned back onto the highway and made for Tshabong, the border town I had decided on staying in. To my dismay, the 6+ hour drive resulted in nearly no change in scenery, though I did manage to see a bunch of animals. including a large African eagle, a bunch of birds ranging in color from bright red to aqua blue, and the occasional ostrich and wild horse.

Halfway through the trip, I went into a small town to find a mechanic, since earlier in the morning I had spotted my exhaust pipe hanging slightly from the chassis. After searching for a while, I settled on a welder I had spotted. To my delight, he said that the problem was not serious and the pipe was not about to fall off, but he couldn't fix it. Happy that I was not in danger but bothered that the problem persisted, I continued on my route, though I cut out all the dirt road shortcuts I had considered. It was another 3 or 4 hours before I finally arrived at the turn off for Berrybush farm, the lodge that Chris had recommended.

Berrybush lies on the outskirts of Tshabong at the end of a long, sandy road. I didn't realize just how sandy this road was and if it weren't for the momentum I had built up, I would have once again found Aslan stuck in the sand. Luckily I just barely made it through and was soon shaking the hand of Jill, a petite blond woman with premature wrinkles from her habit of smoking.

Coincidentally she was also a Zambian and treated me very kindly as well, giving me a double bed room for a low price. The room itself was pretty hilarious, with its exposed brick walls, bare light bulb, and blanket made out of animal fur.

I took a brief walk around the small property, not spotting any of the Springbok that Jill had mentioned lived on the premises, and returned to my room, where I read some more Karamazov, since I had finished Catch 22 on the way down. At about 7, Jill knocked on my door and announced that dinner was ready. As an appetizer, we watched some TV with her friend/son/boyfriend (I'm unsure which it was) and she soon served up a delicious meal of Shepard's Pie, salad, and vegetables. I really appreciated the meal as well as the company. After dinner, we watched Survivor as Jill's many dogs ran all over the place.

Soon it was time for bed and I thanked Jill enthusiastically for the meal and the accommodation, which she said were a pleasure to provide, and headed back to the room. It was amazing to me that Jill had lived on and run the place for 28 years- I can't imagine doing anything for that long! After getting ready for bed, my eyelids grew heavy with thoughts of entering South Africa once again the next day with two days before I had my reservations in Upington.

City Life

2009-07-28T04:55:00.000-07:00

Happy to be lacking a destination for the day, I woke up at my hostel, Villa Weise, ready to have a semi-relaxing day. After walking down to the lounge for the hostel's complimentary cooked breakfast, I sat down at a table with what turned out to be two Americans. They were a middle aged couple from the Berkley area and were on a safari tour that would eventually take them to Victoria Falls. They were quite nice, and it was fun to hear them talk about their experiences on the tour so far, which is otherwise made up of Germans. The breakfast itself was quite delicious as well- bacon, eggs and toast. I enjoyed the conversation with the Americans, whose names I think were Joe and Janice, and got ready for my day.

The main objective for the day was to drive the Welwitschia Route, which is a 100km or so road that cuts through the Namib desert national park. Along the way the rangers have put

markers that display certain attributes of the park. I bought my permit to do the drive in town and then drove out to the sandy surrounds of Swakopmond and, after second- and third-guessing myself, found the beginning of the road. The first marker was a disappointment, as it was intended to show the Lichen population that manages to survive in the desolate area, but instead there was only a tersely-worded plaque that informed the reader that previous tourists had been to disruptive and killed all the lichens. It offered a ray of hope, however, by hinting that lichens were, in fact, alive all around the route and a tourist would just have to find them on their own.

Next up was the "Moon Landscape," which was amazing. What they mean by the title is that a certain valley that cuts through the desert has been shaped by erosion in such a way that its jagged mountainous points resemble the moon's surface. I was sceptical at first, given the name, but found the sight to be quite remarkable. I'll let you see for yourself:

While serenely viewing the spectacle with my camera and binoculars, a tourist troupe of Frenchmen got out noisily, with their tour guide loudly explaining the moon scape. I thought it was funny when the French teenager pulled out a baseball cap that had "USA" emblazoned on its front, contrary to what stereotyping would have me believe.

There was further driving on the bumpy dirt road to do, and I broke it up by having a staple lunch of PB&H sandwiches in a dry riverbed. Along the way there were remains from a 1914 encampment made by South African soldiers and a hill with a lava rock streak in its middle. However, the grand finale was the arrival of the road's namesake- the Welwitschia plant.

The Welwitschia plant, though seeming to be a near-dead remnant of a firmer original, is actually supposed to look like it does. It survives off of the scarce amount of water found in its ecosystem and has only two leaves that grow and split, making it seem like more. Also, they have cones, which I thought to be the cherry on top of a hilariously awkward plant. I guess they deserve accolades for their amazing survivability.

Rendered nearly speechless by the stunning beauty found on the road, I made my way back to Swakopmund after 4 hours of exploration. Next up was a long walk around the town as it was drenched in sunlight. It's a beach side place, so I enjoyed strolling down its shores and watching people put their boats in the water or try to body surf on the crashing waves. Spending more time with it, I came to the conclusion that the town really is beautiful, and I don't blame the countless Germans who vacation there. There's a relaxed atmosphere, a lack of crowds, a nice beach, lots of art, and little crime.

On my walk I also passed by a rather large crafts market, but resisted the temptation to buy anything, since it all seemed like it could have been made in China, for all I knew. I'm hoping my patience will pay off in the form of a handmade local market sometime before arriving back in Cape Town.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent updating my stateside readers on the blog and getting some supplementary provisions- water and bread. After resting a bit back at the hostel, I had a nice chat with the Americans I had met earlier in the day at the bar and then headed once again to the Western Saloon pizzeria- its charms had lulled me in once again and it didn't disappoint. Not having any plans for the evening, I decided to get a taste of home and went to the tiny local movie theater, where I watched the Julia Roberts-starring Duplicity. Though slightly out of focus and not Oscar material, it was fun to get in touch with the sights and sound of the US- especially NYC. Filled to the brim with Americanness, I retired to the hostel for the night.

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of a violently windy dust storm that had cropped up overnight. What faced me as I opened the door to go to breakfast was dust everywhere. I had seen dust storms back in Arizona, but this was completely different. Grains of sand were buzzing around violently and visibility was almost nonexistent. The streets already had a fine layer of sand and everything and everyone was pummeled.

Quickly eating my breakfast next to one of the large safari tour operators, I hastily packed my things in to the trunk (forgetting my shampoo), and headed East, towards Windhoek. For the first 45 minutes, visibility was dismal as the dust storm continued, but it quickly eased and I could drive at a normal pace, despite the still-roaring wind. It was a straightforward (read: boring) drive, and I entertained myself with Catch 22. The paved roads made it easier to go from A to B without too much effort on my part, and after two fill-ups and a stop by the road to have lunch, I was entering Namibia's capitol.

Windhoek is a unique city- it's not at all cramped, set amongst a bunch of low hills, and is home to houses that show off vibrant colors ranging from pink to neon green. Arriving on a Saturday, traffic was not bad at all and after seeing some of the city by car I found the Chameleon Hostel, where I was to stay. It's a pretty cool hostel, with a large pool-laden courtyard where a bunch of people were lounging and reading, a well stocked bar, professional reception, and modern rooms. Being that it was the first backpackers hostel I had been to in Africa, I appreciated the familiar vibe from last year. I unloaded the car after finagling my way into a parking spot and soon was headed out the door, where this sign greeted me:

I took its advice and continued onwards into the city center. There's not much to see in Windhoek, and after a half hour walk I felt like I had a sense of the city. The funniest part of it is the street names- I walked on Fidel Castro street as well as Robert Mugabe avenue, which ironically is where the statehouse lies.

Further down Robert Mugabe avenue I found the main landmark of Windhoek- Kristkurke- or Christ Church. It's a large beautiful church surrounded by lush public gardens. I took my pictures and, passing another crafts market, made my way back to the hostel, where I met Ben, another lone American at the hostel. As it turns out, he had just arrived for a 5 month unpaid internship with the World Wildlife Fund in Windhoek. Originally from Philly and currently a grad student as UC Santa Barbara, he had a bunch of stories about his trips in Ghana and Spain as well as what sort of things he is learning in his nonprofit management graduate classes. I felt sorry for him, though, when I found out that he's on his own for finding an apartment to rent- that's definitely an unsavory chore.

I relaxed in the courtyard and read some more Karamzov, which I am continuing to trudge through. I'm 250/700 pages in and nothing has happened in the plot whatsoever. Thankfully I was saved from my boredom by the hostel's internet cafe, where I updated the blog again. By then it was getting dark and I ended up spending the evening chatting with Ben at the bar and meeting more hostel guests like Lyndsay, who is an English university student working as a vet on a game farm. She was in town because she was looking after their 28 year old cheetah, who had fallen ill. Apparently on the game reserve she frequently sleeps amongst the baby lions and plays with cheetahs- not too bad, I should think. I enjoyed a delivered pizza and soon felt tired enough to retire, which I did, and read some more Karamazov in another heroic attempt to get through a handful of pages. Soon, though, it had its effect on me and fell asleep, knowing that the morning sun would bring another cross-border adventure.

Dune Displays

2009-07-25T07:54:00.000-07:00

I greeted my next day of travelling with an attempt at a shower that left me dry- because I didn't get up the courage to shower in icy water. Dissapointed with such an immediate defeat suffered so early in the day, I ate another champion's lunch of bread and honey and drove out into the dawn sunlight that had just begun to illuminate the African plain.

Soon after I had begun the day's trek, I found myself in Namibia's largest private game reserve- I was thrilled to see that the route I was taking took me straight through it. Almost immediately I was faced with signs warning of giraffes and sights of beautiful wildlife. At one point, my way was blocked by a huge herd of Kuru- an African version of elk. I didn't view this interruption with the slightest irritation, though, since I got to take out my binoculars and view the herd of graceful animals as well as spot my first zebras!

Though I was expecting zebras donning purely black and white fur, I found that wild zebras have more of an earthy tone to them- the stripes stained with the reddish brown color of the dirt. Nevertheless I was struck once again with the amazingness of this continent. After all, I was just taking a normal road and yet I was having no difficulty spotting wild game! I looked upon the graceful beasts for a bit longer and eventually felt the tug of my destination pulling me forward. The destination was Sossus- the hop off point to see Namibia's famed dunes.

I had about another hour to drive, but Catch 22 passed the time and I soon found myself at the permit office in Sossus, waiting behind a group of large, irate Africaans men who were yelling at the Namibian woman behind the desk for not taking their word for it that they were in fact Namibians. The scene seemed to escalate endlessly- along with my wait- but eventually they came to an agreement and I was free to buy my day pass, again attracting a curious look from the official with my solitary status.

The first stretch of the 60km road to Sossusvlei was unassuming, void of dunes, but quickly gave way to huge red mounds of grainy Namibian sand on both sides of the road. As I drove along the surprisingly smooth paved road the dunes became larger and larger, surrounding me by the time I got the 2 wheel drive parking lot. To get to Sossusvlei, a large pan in the middle of the dunes, I had to make my way for another 4 km. Thankfully, I managed to hop on a four wheel drive shuttle which was full of Americans, to my surprise. The four young people occupying the swaying and swerving vehicle turned out to be Peace Corps volunteers taking a brief vacation from their posts in Lesotho. They came from all over the US and had all been serving for different amounts of time. A couple had actually extended their two year commitment for another year. I enjoyed talking with them about their experiences for the brief duration of the ride and continued to spot them around the valley when I eventually got there after paying the driver 50 rand and walking the last 400 yards.

Sossusvlei is one of the most amazing places I've ever been to. Its beauty rivals the current leaders of "Most Beautiful Places Derek Has Seen," which are Halstadt, the lakeside town in the Austrian alps, and Columbia University's campus (you can't call me unloyal!). After climbing over one final rusty colored dune, I was faced with a dry pan surrounded by large dunes, covered in hard, white clay that has cracked with dehydration and spotted with dead tree trunks in dramatic contortions. Though there were a handful of tourists around, the isolated nature of the place made me feel like the lone explorer of another planet. I couldn't resist taking copious amounts of photos.

After walking around the pan and seeing almost every tree in it, I attempted a climb up one of the larger dunes on the periphery of the pan. Unfortunately, the attempt failed miserably as I sloshed my way up halfway but ran out of both water and energy, ending the expedition as suddenly as it had begun. regardless, I still managed some good photos from my vantage point.

I felt that I had adequately explored the area and opted to start going back, now that the sun was at its peak and the heat was driving all the other tourists away. Out of my cheapness and sense of adventure I declined to take the shuttle back and decided to walk. It ended up being a little (meaning a lot) longer than I had anticipated. Apparently my conversation on the way there had masked the length of the journey, which I thought would take only 15 minutes, but actually took 45 minutes. Tired and thirsty, I got back to Aslan and drove out of the park, thrilled with the sightseeing for the day.

At the gas station in Sossus I filled up and was informed by the attendant that my fan belt was in danger of snapping, which could potentially leave me stranded. Appreciative of this forewarning, I took his advice to plan on replacing it in Swakopmond- the next day's stop. With such a warning fresh on my mind, I drove off into the unpaved wilderness once more, this time for an hour to get to Solitaire, the small town where I would lay my head for the night.

Again I was faced with a "town" that was composed of a gas station, guest house, and general store. This town, though, also had a bakery, where a man named Moose makes what is touted as the best Apple Crumble in the whole of Africa. He, however, only admits to it being the "best in town," a humble admission indeed. I grabbed a hearty, fresh baked piece and enjoy its divine flavors as I sat out on the lawn of the bakery, fighting off the ravenous birds that eyed the baked good jealously.

I finished off the Apple Crumble and made camp behind the guesthouse. At first, I thought I would be the only person camping, but I was proved wrong when a Spaniard and Swiss guy pitched tent and a lone traveler on a motorcycle arrived. I was immediately intrigued with the image of a tall blonde guy driving a beat up old motorcycle, piled high and wide with camping gear and supplies. As he passed me to go into town, I stopped and talked with him, and I am so glad I did! It turns out that he is a 40 year old Englishman who has, for the past four months, been riding that motorcylce- ALL THE WAY FROM ENGLAND! He's continuing down to Cape Town, where he will turn back and go home by way of Africa's east coast. Needless to say, I was stunned in admiration. He had some good stories, like breaking his clutch in the middle of the Congo, and said that Cameroon was his favorite destination so far, which I look forward to telling Toukam.

After pitching my tent and having my usual spartan dinner, I retired for the evening, hoping to rest better than I did in Hobas, which I did. The next morning I woke, took a gloriously hot shower, and drove northward towards Swakopmond. As I got closer and closer to Walvis Bay, the city before Swakopmond, the road began to improve and I soon found myself at the Tropic of Capricorn! It was an enjuvinating mark of progress.

The rolling hills that had accompanied me since leaving Solitaire soon morphed to a much more desolate landscape, as all shrubbery dissappeared and was replaced with endless sand and rocks- very similar to the first Namibian landscape I witnessed. Soon enough, though, I spotted large, tan dunes in the distance, marking my arrival in Walvis Bay.

Without looking at my map, I drove through the city, which is the second largest in Namibia. It's a port town in a neat grid of numbered streets with colorful and creative houses. Further down the coast, modern beachhouses line the beach and Esplanade Park. I stopped first at the beach, taking in the calm Atlantic Ocean that had been toned down by the extensive sand barriers in the port and spotted, along with some dead jellyfish, some flamingos! Though they were not as pink as conventional flamingos, it was still fun to see them walking around the shallow water.

Now having studied the small map of the city in my tour book, I drove around some more and eventually stopped at an internet cafe, where I made my first update. Soon, though, I was hungry and went next door to the Burger Hut and had my first real cheeseburger since coming to Africa! It was a delicious grilled beauty that did not go skimpy on any of the toppings and was accompanied by some of the best, and greasiest, french fries that I have ever had. It was heavenly.

The day got late and after an unsuccessful attempt to get into the port to look around I took Aslan northward once again on a coastal highway to Swakopmond. The highway alone was a sight to see- pressed up between the crashing Atlantic Ocean and the tall, menacing dunes. The beach became too tempting, and after missing the first turn off, I attempted to get there by the second. This is how Aslan became hopelessly stuck in the sand.

After coming to grips with my stupidity and failing to get out of the sand by my own methods, I locked up the car and started walking to an ATV adventures outpost that I had seen about a half mile back. Miraculously, I was soon alerted to the presence of a Namibian traffic police pickup truck, which had spotted my car and my personage and put two and two together. They offered me a ride back and soon had a rope between my pathetically two wheel drive vehicle and their powerful four wheel drive truck and pulled me out. I was incredibly appreciative and tipped them handsomely. Sadly, it didn't seem like getting stuck in the sand was a rare occurance for tourists. I cursed myself for my sad conformity.

It was only about 10 more minute before I got to Swakopmond, which is a great town that some say is more German than Germany. I disaggree with such a statement, but it is a wonderful town, and I was happy that I would be spending two nights there. After settling down in my hostel, I walked around the town and grabbed a great pizza at the Western Salloon Pizzeria, which boasts the motto- "Go Hard or Go Home". I couldn't agree more.

Cuisine and Castles

2009-07-24T05:53:00.000-07:00

On Monday, I woke up at the Hobas campsite with the dawn poking her head into my tent and birds chirping happily. My lack of a cushion of any sort made for a less than comfortable night of sleep, made worse by my body's inability to find a satisfactory position resulting in cyclone-like movement all through the night. Despite the physical setbacks of camping, I managed to get myself up, prepare my body for the day in the grimy but acceptable community bathroom, and replace my dusty belongings back in the trunk of now-weathered Aslan.

Happily, I passed by my ostrich friends on the way out, though they refrained from making any passes in front of my car. After saying my goodbyes once again to the Canon Roadhouse-turned-exchange-bank I took a left at a T-junction and made my bumpy way to Seeheim- the next town on my map. The road wasn't too bad- it ran parallel to some train tracks and brought me through more plains, though continuing to give me more views of the mountains that surrounded Fish River Canyon. Also, spotting springboks, baboons, and other wildlife passed the time.

When I eventually made it to the Seeheim turnoff, what greeted me half a kilometer down the road was not a town, like my map insinuated, but rather a singular hotel, dusty and decrepit from years of isolation in the desert. Upon such a sight, my hopes of a way of withdrawing cash were again dashed. I spoke with the owner, a smallish Africaans woman with a parrot on her shoulder, and settled for a ginger ale, which I hoped would sooth my upset stomach- something I had doubtlessly incurred from watching the rock laden road too closely.

I finished my refreshing libation and made my way back to the main road, which quickly turned paved, much to my pleasure. For about 60km I drove gratefully on one of the national highways, not seeing more than two cars for the whole way. The landscape grew flatter and flatter, and I was happy to turn off and take another gloriously paved road for about half an hour to get to my stop for the day- Bethanie (pronounced Betahny).

Again I was fooled by my map. According to it, Bethanie is a sizable place- worthy of being put on a national map as a place to go. In reality, Bethanie is a tiny town, located around one street, that boasts a gas station, a tiny bank that's open four hours a day, and two small stores, in addition to the guest house I stayed in. My first act as temporary resident of Bethanie was to locate the Standard Bank that the people at the Canon Lodge had told me about the day before and wait in line far too long to talk with the teller. To my utter amazement and jubilation he found a way to call in my card number to HQ in JoBerg and make a withdrawal, since they didn't have an ATM. I restrained myself from taking too much money out for the sake of financial security and made my way to my next stop- the gas station. Though I did have a full Jerry Can of gas at my disposal, I didn't want to use it, so my quarter tank of gas had started to bother me.

At the station I doubtfully asked the attendant if there was any way to access the internet from the town. He directed me to the supermarket (attached to the gas station), where an ill-tempered Africaans senior citizen who ran the store allowed me to use his dirt-laden desktop for an exorbitant sum. That, Reader, is how I did my mini update.

Disappointed that I couldn't tell my readership more about the goings-on of my Old School Adventure, I drove Aslan to the Bethanie Hotel, where I had made a reservation the week before. I searched around for some assistance and eventually found a short local woman with shaky English who let me into my room. Later as I unpacked my things, I met the acting manager of the place, Willem, who enthusiastically shook my hand and assured me that he would assist me in any way possible. In another circumstance I would have found such hospitable service singularly remarkable, but considering that I was the only guest in the entire hotel, its novelty was not so shocking.

Bethanie Hotel

I took a walk around the whole town, which took about 10 minutes, and settled back in the hotel with some newly bought purified water and bread. Since there was almost nothing to do, I decided to relax and lounge by the fountain-adorned pool and read some Brothers Karamazov and listen to some Hemmingway short stories I have on my iPod. The former is proving to be one of the slowest books I've read and the latter provided some humorous and thoughtful diversion. It was a leisurely afternoon.

I found that Namibian phone cards last only long enough for a couple very short calls that evening after the town had seemingly been deserted by its inhabitants, but was saved from a complete lack of communication by Willem, who cooked dinner for me. As we conversed, I found out that he was actually the chef at the hotel and was temporarily looking after the place since the owners, who also run a guest house on the coast, were out of town. He had actually gone to chef school in Cape Town and hopes to start a restaurant someday. The dinner, to his credit, was a fantastic range of excellence including some venison schnitzel, roasted potatoes, and cooked carrots, finished off with a Namibian pudding desert. It was well worth the 8 dollars I paid.

After retiring early for a similarly quiet evening, I woke up early, as usual, to face the day. I was assisted in that quest by yet another culinary masterpiece for breakfast- a perfectly cooked omelet with homemade jam for the toast. Hopping in the car after saying my thankful goodbyes, I sped off northwards on the same road I came in on, though it sadly turned to gravel and dirt almost immediately upon leaving Bethanie. As the bumps in the road took their toll on my CD player's capabilities, I turned to my iPod and began listening to what has been an absolute Godsend on this trip- Catch 22.

Before I left for Europe last year, I uploaded a large amount of audiobooks onto my iPod, but didn't listen to most of them due to overestimation of down time. However, this road trip is perfect for them. I started off with Joseph Heller's masterpiece Catch 22, which is proving to be hilarious, entertaining, and extraordinarily well written. Honestly, the way that Heller describes his characters and their actions is fascinating! The adverbs and adjectives he chooses allow the reader to paint a pristine picture in his or her mind's eye. Hopefully my listening to the novel will rub off some of his creative verbiage.

I cruised along for about an hour before I stopped at a coffee shop in Helmeringhausen, another not-so-legit town composed of a guest house, coffee shop, and mechanic. As I sipped on my OJ, I enjoyed the sunny beauty that the town had to offer and the cheery signs that it used to lure in lonely travelers. The Africaans owner was kind enough to offer some pointers on which roads were best to take to get to Duwisib Castle, my destination for the day.

Again I tore off into the wilderness, enlivened by the theatrical vocal performance of Catch 22 that occupies one of my ears. I was required to stop a couple times to open and close a gate to be let into a game reserve that straddled the route, in which I spotted even more ostriches. As I got closer and closer to the castle, the road seemed to get worse and worse, only increasing my paranoid fear of getting a flat tire. Thankfully, Aslan took it like a champ. Eventually I arrived at Duwisib Castle.

The castle is, as you could imagine, an extremely unlikely sight. It's a large, stone building built in 1907 by a German aristocrat and his Jersey-born American wife. Once it was finished, the two owners and their 5-strong staff lived in it for only about 5 years before WWI called them away forever. The castle then changed hands a couple of times before it was finally "transferred" to the government as a national monument. The interior is decorated with some original furniture, portraits of family members, and ornaments of military swords and animal skulls. The interior courtyard was exceptionally relaxing, and I spent my time reading more Karamazov and making lunch as multiple German tour groups came and left in spans of 15 minutes.

After chatting with the attendant in charge of the castle and its campgrounds, who thought it quite surprising that I was travelling alone, I relocated to the windy and deserted campsite. I unsuccessfully looked around for some firewood for about a half hour and eventually realized that if I didn't take action, I would lose my mind with boredom, seeing as it was only about 3pm and there wasn't anyone around. Seeing yet another tour bus leave in search of more sightseeing areas, I decided to abandon the campsite that I had already paid a small sum for and make headway on the next day's driving.

I drove for about 45 minutes and decided to stop in Betta- the first "town" I came to. The guest house owner there tried to make a deal with me to camp, but I decided to splurge and get the 20 dollar room. As it turned out, the room was actually a free standing cottage, recently redone, that was warmed by a frequently attended-to wood burning stove. I appreciated the space and celebrated with a dinner not composed of peanut butter and honey, but rather tomato-soaked sardines on bread- the luxury was almost overwhelming.

The sun began to set and I entertained myself by taking photos of the sunset and its effect on nearby plants and buildings and listening to yet more Catch 22. Eventually, after all the clearly-visible African stars came out, I took out my honky satellite phone and tested it out on my parents, who I could hear perfectly, despite my being in the middle of nowhere. I assured them that I hadn't yet gotten into serious harm and quickly saw that the battery was almost dead. The rest of the evening I read a little and prepared for the upcoming day of more driving and sightseeing.

Despair, Desolation, and Debt

2009-07-23T03:52:00.000-07:00

Good day from Walvis Bay, Namibia! I have survived the endless expanses of gravel roads and sparse civilization, happy to be at the Atlantic Ocean and a not-so-sketchy internet cafe. Due to the length of time I have to report on on the blog, I'm going to start from the beginning in instalments. Here are days one and two!

Waking before the sun rose on Saturday I made the final preparations for the trip- carrying my bags to the car, reminding myself not to inadvertently kidnap the apartment keys, and making a final check of my belongings. Thankfully these tasks were not overwhelming, since the day before had been spent dropping my large auxiliary baggage off at the McClungs, picking up last minute supplies at Pick n Pay, and filling up both Aslan and the borrowed Jerry Can with gas.

It was a difficult day, as it also marked the termination of my All Nations internship, warranting sad farewells and sweet reminiscing of my chair-cleaning first days at the office. By 1:30, though, I was on my way back to Cape Town, where I ran my last errand to the ritzy waterfront mall to pick up my last tool for the journey- my paternally-mandated satellite phone. If, Reader, your imagination snaps on with visions of Star Trek at my mentioning such a gadget, allow me to direct your mind's eye towards Jurassic Park instead. The heavy, brick like contraption that I am lugging around in my trunk still now not only boasts a 90's era screen and body, but includes, hilariously, a half-foot long antenna about the width of a ski pole that clicks into place when in use. Though it can manage only about 10 minutes of talk time per battery charge and demands 2 dollars a minute to call anywhere in the world, I am still in awe of its ability to get my parents on the line despite the absence of any sort of pay phone or cell phone reception, as long as I have a clear sky on my hands.

Toukam and I said our final goodbyes (for our 2 week separation) at about 7:45 on Saturday morning, marking the beginning of the Old School Adventure that I have been dreaming of since February. Driving cautiously down the cement ramps of the parking garage, I adjusted to the significantly increased weight of Aslan resulting from the water, gas, tent, sleeping bag, oranges, and luggage that was now in tow. Without any hindrance I quickly made my departure from the Mother City, bidding farewell to Table Mountain, now tamed after my on-foot domination of its rocky facade.

The first landscape that I encountered was of rolling lush green hills that harbored thick fog in their folds and magnificent views from their peaks. Being that it was so early on a Saturday morning, I encountered few cars on either side of the road and enjoyed the view as the hills turned into rocky, more mountainous bodies. A c0uple hours in, I stopped at a small town called Citrusdal, where I became acquainted with the tiny town scene that would become commonplace outside of Cape Town. I grabbed a cheap cup of coffee in a lonely coffeeshop and stretched my legs. Soon, though, the N7 beckoned me again and I was quickly back in my beloved Corolla listening to one of the 25 CD's I burned beforehand.

Landscapes changed again and suddenly I found myself speeding through wide open plains of rocky soil. On both sides, I spotted miniature examples of Table Mountain and eventually spotted a roadside picnic table at which I could feast on what would quickly become an Old School staple- peanut butter and honey sandwiches washed down with a fresh orange. While dining, I acquainted myself with another frequent visitor on the adventure- silence. Besides the sometimes howling wind, there was nothing to hear. It was and is a silence I appreciate, especially when accompanied by such amazing scenery.

My Lunch Spot

Continuing on, the drab plains steadily started including more splashes of unexpected color- in the form of wildflowers beginning to bloom. Though they were not carpeting the ground like they will in mid August, they were still impressive to see- like the rebellious hippies of the botanical world. I couldn't resist stopping on the side of the road to take their picture.

Along with the coming of spring, the flowers marked my impending arrival in Springbok, South Africa. Nearly 600 km from Cape Town, Springbok is a smallish town huddled amongst some low, boulder-covered hills. Understandably, the town survives off the swarm of tourists who come in the spring to oogle at the endless expanses of wildflowers. That being said, the town was pretty much empty, pending the festival of blooms that is yet to come. I found my B&B, the Elkoweru Guest House, and settled into my "room," which proved to be a furnished tool shed, complete with running water and toilet, television, and comfortable beds. Besides having to stoop down whenever moving around the room, I found it to be quite comfortable and definitely worth the $15 dollar rate.

After settling myself in the room, I took a walk around the town, starting with an abandoned copper mine, called "Blue Mine," which was the first mine to produce an "economically feasible" amount of copper. Though nothing more than a hole in the ground, it represents the prosperous industries that come and go on this continent- providing wealth for only a moment before things abruptly change. Next, I encountered a monument to a falling fort that had once stood in the middle of the town. Though I was unsure of the legality of my exploring it, it was covered with some of the coolest plants I've ever seen- specifically a kind of succulent that looks like it came from Mars.

Martian Succulent

For dinner, I went to one of the few restaurant in Springbok- a pizza take-out place. There, after polling some locals, I ordered a chicken, mayo, and mushroom pizza, which along with being way too big for me to eat was extraordinarily delicious. The chef said that "America isn't ready for his pizzas," so I was thankful that I was. I slept well that night in the shed, and woke up early in the morning to again pack up the car and leave, but not before having a fantastic breakfast in the empty dining room of the guest house. It was a delicious meal of bacon, sausage, egg, and yogurt, and it was a good start to the day.

I refueled Aslan and got back on the N7, mistakenly thinking that I would reach an ATM before the Namibian border, 125 km away. On the drive to the border, I saw only a handful of cars as the mountains gave way to more level terrain. Soon, though, I arrived at the border post, where all of my paperwork checked out and the officials could not answer my query regarding the Namibian border office's ability to take credit cards or provide an ATM. Hoping for the best, I got back in the car and crossed the Orange River into Namibia, where uniform-less officials took and processed my paperwork without problem until they told me that no, my credit card was not a valid way of paying the 180 rand (about 22 dollars) road tax.

They offered a way out, though, by taking my passport and allowing me to drive to a nearby service station, which allegedly had an ATM. It was a short drive, but when I arrived and attempted the "Bank Windhoek" ATM, it provided me only with a cryptic message referencing its inability to "Process the Transaction." Holding my panic at bay, I then attempted the pseudo-ATM next to it, which resulted in similarly ambiguous failure. The gas station attendant, being extraordinarily unhelpful, said that she couldn't do anything while a fellow traveller pointed me in the direction of the neighboring guest lodge. There, I was met by the Namibian housekeeper, who told me that it wasn't allowed for her to use the card machine and the owner, away in Cape Town, could not give permission. The panic became irresistibly palpable.

I returned once again to the gas station, now at a complete loss of what to do. Knowing that I wouldn't get anywhere talking with the attendant, I asked to talk to the manager of the gas station. From behind the counter the stout white Namibian lady asked what I wanted. I once again explained my financially-strained situation to her, to which she replied that she couldn't do anything. I asked if there was any way I could get the cash with a 50 rand surcharge given to her, and she once again told me that it wasn't possible. Eventually, I told her, exasperated, that all I needed was 50 rand to have enough to be able to get beyond the border. Either tired of an obnoxious American or moved to generosity by my plight, she gave me a 50 rand bill and told me to leave. Embarrassed slightly by my degradation to a beggar because of my own irresponsibility, I hopped back in the car and sped back to the border.

There, I found that I had misheard the official and needed another 20 rand to get through the border. Aghast at this turn of events, I began sifting through my car looking for loose change. Coming up short, I tried to reason with the official, who would not budge in her demands. Again panicky and desperate, I turned to a lady who was coming through the border and, allowing my desperation to override my humiliation, asked if she would give me 15 rand (less than 2 dollars) to get me through the border. Recognizing the look in my eye that signaled that she was my only hope, she smiled and gave me 20 rand, saying "And they say South Africans aren't nice!" With that, I was handed my cross border salvation and triumphantly gave the official the money she wanted- every last cent.

Shaken by the whole situation, I pressed on into Namibia. What greeted me first was a landscape of complete, utter desolation. I may have been raised in the deserts of Arizona, but the expanse that I faced was lunar in its complete lack of life. There was no vegetation in sight and the only embellishments to the environment were large, black rocks that spotted the ground. It was a relief when this ground morphed into a more hospitable plain, complete with sparse bushes and low mountains.

Namibian Desolation

With my cashless situation still painfully real, I hoped to run into an ATM before I turned off the main road to make my way towards Fish River Canyon, where I was to sleep. This hope was soon proved naive as absolutely no sign of human life, besides some passing cars, showed itself after passing the border. Absolutely nothing. Knowing that I did have enough gas and water, I continued on, turning off the paved highway onto the first of many dirt roads that I would take.

The dirt roads, though sometimes necessitating slow going, are actually quite good, and Alsan handles them like a champ. Instead of turning off towards the canyon and my campsite, I decided to continue on for another 20km to Ai-Ais, a town that I knew had gas and hoped would have an ATM. Weaving my way between rocky cliffs and red mountains, I eventually made it to the surprisingly green Ai-Ais, which was actually more like a small resort than a town. At the gate, I was greeted by two guards, who smiled when I asked about a way to procure cash, saying that Ai-Ais was still under construction and had nothing of the sort. Increasingly distraught, I had a quick lunch near the river and went back the way I came, this time turning north towards Hobas, the camp site.

My Lunch Spot

The guards had recommended that I stop at Canon Lodge, a resort on the way to Hobas that they said had an ATM. After taking the 1km sandy road to the resort, I quickly found out from the kindly owners that their credit card machine had no way to get cash. They told me further that the nearest ATM would be in Keetmanshoop- both too far to get there and back before the end of the day and out of the way of the route I had planned. Thankfully, one of the owners' friends piped up and said there was a bank in Bethanie, the town I was to stay at the next night.

I left the Canon Lodge and tried one more place. Bypassing the turnoff to the campsite, I drove to the Canon Roadhouse, where I found a kid-sized dose of salvation. The people there initially said there was no way for them to do anything, but when I went back to the car, I had an idea. I looked in my passport wallet and found 6 American dollars. Hoping for the best, I asked if they could change them to Rands. At first they said no, but then the chef came out from the back and, after some negotiation, gave me an exchange. I had cash!

On my cheery way to the campsite, I had a run-in with some ostriches. There were three on the road- two on one side, and one on the other. As I slowed down to pass them, the two on one side decided at the last moment to join the other one and nearly ran right in front of the moving car. I was grateful when there was another change of mind and they returned to their side. Though it may not have been a collision, it could easily have been one- Old School Adventure material!

I soon got to Hobas, where I signed in for my camp site and got a permit to drive to the lookout point for the canyon. Fish River Canyon, it turns out, is the second largest canyon in the world. The view was fantastic and I enjoyed using my binoculars to get even better views of the bottom. It was a serene end to a hectic day, and I was exhausted by the time I pitched my tent, had some more Peanut Butter and honey sandwiches, read one of Floyd's books, and went to sleep.

Oasis

2009-07-20T02:57:00.000-07:00

Hello All!

I have successfully made it to Bethanie, Namibia after three days of adventure! Unfortunately the internet here is about 8 dollars an hour, so I'll leave you with this preview of my next post, which I hope to be exhaustive:

Getting to the Namibian border with no cash and no working ATM's for hundreds of miles, and a 20 dollar car tax to pay.

Nearly running into an Ostrich on a country road.

Setting up a tent in the wilderness- all by my self!

Hope you are well, because I sure am!

Old School Itinerary

2009-07-17T04:07:00.000-07:00

Hello all! Before I headed out, I wanted to post my itinerary. This may change, but it gives you an idea of my wherabouts, in case I don't post for a long time. (I think 4/5 days will be the longest you will have to wait). See you on the flip side, Reader!

18-Jul Springbok, SA
19-Jul Fish River Canyon, NB
20-Jul Bethanie, NB
21-Jul Duwisib Castle, NB
22-Jul Solitaire, NB
23-Jul Swakopmond, NB
24-Jul Swakopmond, NB
25-Jul Windhoek, NB
26-Jul Ghanzi, BW
27-Jul Kalahari Village, BW
28-Jul Sekoma, BW
29-Jul Tshabong, BW
30-Jul Upington, SA
31-Jul Upington, SA
1-Aug Kimberley, SA
2-Aug Thaba-Tseka, LS
3-Aug Clarens, SA
4-Aug Pretoria/JoBerg, SA
5-Aug 15km S of Lebowakgomo, SA
6-Aug Kruger National Park, SA
7-Aug Piggs Peak, SW
8-Aug Piet Retief, SA
9-Aug Durban, SA
10-Aug East London, SA
11-Aug Mossel Bay, SA
12-Aug Cape Town, SA
13-Aug Cape Town, SA
14-Aug Cape Town, SA

Endings and Beginnings

2009-07-17T01:54:00.000-07:00

Cape Town - it's been a good time.

The time has come to pack up my bags, cut the tethers, and take this blog mobile. I would like to think that my geographic stagnancy has not affected the quality of this journal, but I know that living in one town for 7 weeks can be a recipe for dryness. I'm now going to mix it up. Add a couple countries in the mix, some long drives, and indescribable landscapes- maybe a couple unforeseen friendships. The Old School Adventure has been re-awoken and it is rearing to go - anywhere - soon. Let's unleash it and see where it takes us.

My final week in the Mother City has been a memorable one, unique in its quick pace and shrill tone. Now that our students have all arrived, Africa House is all abuzz with students and children, making for cramped desks and loud offices. Looking back on the past couple weeks, I think I seriously undervalued the tranquility of an empty property. Despite the downsides to this influx of life, there have been a bunch of upsides. The students are all really interesting to talk to, and I've enjoyed learning about their outreaches by sitting in on their reports. Each team, each member has had a wholly different but dependably impacting time out in the bush. After 3 months of classes, their desire to go out and work with the knowledge given to them translated into tireless volunteering.

One of the most interesting conversations I have had with a student was at lunch on Tuesday, when I sat next to Kyle, a member of the Zambia team. He's an American from Oregon who works during the fall at his uncle's pumpkin seed plant, which supplies more than 80% of the country's pumpkin seeds, so that he can save up enough money to travel for the rest of the year. After talking with him for a while, I quickly found out that he has spent a total of two years traveling out of the past four! Being that most Americans never pass the border and the few that do only travel for a month or less, I was interested in this outlier. He has done trips to central America, Europe (and he means Europe- I think 20+ countries), southeast Asia, and southern Africa. Reassuring me of my safety on my quest, he told me how he had hitchhiked from South Africa through Namibia to Victoria Falls and around Botswana, with no particularly negative experiences.

Beyond his travel record, Kyle talked also about the dangers of travel. I hadn't ever thought of traveling specifically like this, but Kyle spoke to me about travel being an addiction. Travel as addicting I have personally witnessed, but travel as an addiction in itself had not crossed my mind, but I agree with him entirely. Without any obligations or goals pulling one back to "real life," traveling can become the focus of their entire lives. These ubertravelers make it a primary goal to see the entirety of the world's offerings, at whatever cost to their finances, career, or relationships. Like anything that can become such an addiction, travel needs to be looked on with a touch of wariness, if only by people who are so attracted to its temptations. As I told Kyle, if I didn't have a set of other dreams and goals back at home, I would become a hopelessly addicted traveler in the blink of an eye. Thank God for those tethers back at home!

At work I've been working on an informational brochure for Floyd, the certificates of completion for the students, and the website, which has gone live! As my departure date draws closer and Aslan roars to get out on the open road, I have been rushing to finish off all my projects, or at least get them to a place that can be picked up easily by my successor. Couple this with countless mini errands and jobs and you have a very busy intern. I'm glad, though, that I am ending with a bang, so to speak. It would be quite depressing to mope around for the last week of such an interesting internship. As some of the tenants of Africa House say their goodbyes on their way to the airport, I am more and more reminded of the leave I will be taking from this recently established life in Cape Town.

Though I haven't started the actual traveling part of this summer, I have already had quite a powerful time with All Nations. I may never use the carpentry skills I learned with Ndaba or put my clothing drive sorting capabilities to the test ever again, but I can tell you that over the past seven weeks I have had to battle with internal conflicts, face challenges of physical, mental, and spiritual strength, choose to summon a positive attitude in the most trying of circumstances, carve a place for myself in the hectic world of a nonprofit, and cook a mean dinner at the end of a work day. Most of what I have learned and experienced here on this peninsula will never make it to a resume or an application essay. Much of it will never even be able to be verbalized or recorded. However, this summer so far has had an impact on me. I have come out from it an improved man with much more to learn and work on, but still having made some well-earned steps. Despite the troubles I have faced, I do not regret coming here at all- I wouldn't take it back for an internship with a consulting firm or a summer with my friends and family in Phoenix, because I could not have learned half as much.

I made it one step further towards a safe departure on Wednesday when I left work early and returned once again to the offices of Drive Africa, where Aslan got a comprehensive checkup, passing with flying colors. It's quite reassuring to know that the vehicle that will be taking me 9,000 km over the next 4 weeks is prepared to do so. While I was there, I got some more advice about routes and driving tips from the Drive Africa people. I know that if I have any questions, they are ready and willing to assist. Their service has been so good, in fact, that I plan on writing a raving testimonial about them. They deserve all the business they can get.

In addition to vehicular check ups, I've been steadily contacting hostels and campsites, making reservations and tweaking our travel plan. In an exciting turn of events, it turns out that we will be visiting Joel, Toukam's friend in the Peace Corp, in his village near Kruger National Park. If I haven't had a true "African" experience by then, it will definitely suffice. Other highlights in the trip include staying at a hostel in an abandoned train on the beach and camping in Kruger.

If you have been a loyal reader, you will know that my and Toukam's experiences with the American Embassy have been painless and pleasant. Unfortunately this trend came to a disappointing halt this morning. All that Toukam needed to do was get his student visa stamped in his passport, since he had already interviewed and filled the paperwork. What should have lasted less than an hour ended up taking two and a half, since the embassy workers didn't know the rules that applied to Toukam's situation and couldn't call the US, since it was nighttime. After almost three hours, they told Toukam to come back when they got an answer. Infuriated by such a show of incompetence, we drove away and I dropped Toukam at the train station. Since I'm leaving, he's now going to have a harder time getting to the embassy, which is unfortunate.

Tomorrow I will have a shortened day at work, attempt to make as much of a dent in my projects as possible, and say my tearful goodbyes to my new friends at Africa House. After that, I'll pick up my rental satellite phone, drop off my excess luggage at the McClungs', and get some final supplies. The day I have spent 5 months dreaming about is nigh. Celebrate!

Pump Predicament

2009-07-12T04:11:00.000-07:00

Surprisingly, the office survived a week without Anneri and Nelis. In fact, Pat and I thrived. Yes, there may have been more than the usual amount of tea drinking and Marie biscuit eating, but we managed to be the central nervous system of Africa House. Such a responsibility didn't come without its trials, of course. Thursday afternoon was marked by an atmosphere of panic as the septic tank on the property began to fill to the point of drains backing up. Knowing that having 30 people staying on the property would not help the situation, we began assessing our predicament.

Allow me to clarify, first of all, that this septic situation was not due to our negligence. The local municipal government is responsible, it seems, for providing one tank pump every month for free. Pat has reserved such a service last week, but nobody came in the weeklong window they gave us. Calling again, we were informed that they had lost our request in their mess of paperwork. This being last week, we just renewed our request. By the time we found the unwelcome signs of overflow we got word from the government that the one driver of the pump truck in the area not only was sick, but also held up in court, of all places. Being as noncommittal as possible, they ambiguously suggested that the driver may, perhaps, be ready to work on Friday. Not wanting to make the potentially smelly mistake of assuming that the government would come to our assistance, Pat looked into a private pumping firm but found that they charge more than $100 for a service that is usually free. It would be our option of last resort.

Thankfully, the city workers had come by to save us from our hostage-by-sewage predicament by the time I got to work on Friday. The students, who had been barred from showers, sinks, and flushing toilets, were understandably ecstatic. Another disaster averted at Africa House! In an instant, the normal, relaxed pacing of the complex was adopted once again.

On Thursday Toukam and I did our weekly outing into the dining world of Cape Town. This time we opted for Indian food at Bakhara, a restaurant discreetly located on the second floor of a building 3 minutes from our apartment. It's location may have been hard to find, but its quality was not. From the drink (a traditional Indian mango yoghurt drink) and appetizer (garlic chicken and nan bread) to the main course (pork curry), it was a exhibition of India's best cuisine. It was mildly expensive, but our stomachs, which were filled to bursting, testified to the worthiness of the restaurant, prices and all.

Saturday brought the delicious honor of lunching with Floyd and Sally (my boss and his wife). They wanted to thank me/chat with me as I enter this final week of working for All Nations. I met them at Africa House before they drove me to Simon's Town to eat at a nice seafood restaurant that looked out into False Bay. The weather, though sunny and bright in the morning, had quickly turned into dreary rain and wind. It made for bad visibility, but I found the whole package to be enjoyable despite the outside atmosphere. After ordering prawn salad and a seafood platter we got to talking about everything from movies to travel. The McClungs are really great people, and I loved the chance to talk with them. On the way home, we stopped at the Simon's Town community center to check out a local art fair, which I found pretty entertaining. It wasn't necessarily a showcase of world-class artwork, but it struck me as a cozy display of a locale's artists. One thing is for sure- it was an activity that felt entirely non-touristy, which I always value.

The McClungs and I

Planning for the trip continues to chug along. I am pleased to announce that I had confirmed a bed in Springbok (my first destination) as well as Fish River Canyon (my second). Over the coming days, I think I'll continue reserving places to keep my stressors at a minimum once I leave. I'll also be doing a checkup on my car, packing, and buying supplies. I've pretty much straightened out my itinerary, and I'll post it here soon. Until further developments arise, that's all for now. Hope you like posts short and sweet! Thanks for reading.

Choreography and Conversation

2009-07-08T23:59:00.001-07:00

Just when I thought services at Hillsong Church couldn't get any more hip and cool, they broke out the secret weapon- the YMCA. As the pastor began his message on Sunday, he started discussing the importance of "atmosphere" in a given situation. To illustrate how powerful atmosphere is, he suddenly had the YMCA song blasted from the speakers while two women dressed in glaringly bright orange jumpsuits appeared onstage and led all 1,500 of us in the auditorium in a healthy amount of YMCA-ing. It was probably the most dramatic change in atmosphere I've ever witnessed. It was so fun and absolutely hilarious. The following sermon, though of a high quality, had trouble living up to the originality and energy of its introductory act.

The remainder of our Sunday was made up of internet cafes, grocery runs, and Wimbledon watching. Monday brought yet another week of work, and we tried to face it with bravery. The past couple days at work have been made up of the usual website editing and report writing, but with a new round of work surrounding the events of the church planting students' return. Starting on Monday night, the teams from Zimbabwe, Zambia, Lesotho, and South Africa have been arriving back at Africa House, taking up residence and helping out with the renovations. It's been a nice breath of fresh, but hectic, air. I've been slowly meeting all of them (there are about 40) and they seem to be great people. The students originate from Oregon, Michigan, Indiana, Ghana, Zambia, Germany, Holland, and Zimbabwe.

From what I've heard, they have all had really powerful experience, though not without their fair share of mishaps. The Zambia team, for example, had many of their belongings stolen on their way then were almost stoned to death by the villagers they were trying to befriend. They were saved, thankfully, by some concerned policemen who took it upon themselves to offer protection. Miraculously, the villagers were on jovial terms with the team by the time they started back to South Africa. Amazing, right?

On Tuesday I was pleasantly surprised to be invited to lunch with Floyd. We headed over to a cafe across the street and, after ordering cheese burgers to make up for the pitiful performance on July 4th, we spent an hour and half talking about all manner of things. He is one of the wisest people I've met, and extremely approachable too. In addition to things like Palin's resignation and old memories of my grandparents, we talked about how he manages to motivate the people in his nonprofit organization (he doesn't - the vision does) and how to find out what our life's design is supposed to be (use the natural tensions of adolescence and the 20's to shape your identity and goals). I was thrilled to get the chance to just chat with him, and I can't wait to have lunch with both him and his wife on Saturday.

I woke up early on Wednesday to return once again to US soil at the American Embassy. This time instead of getting a visa for a weekend trip Toukam is applying for his student visa to be able to study at Northwestern. As I sat outside the building for the hour and half that it took the bureaucracy to swallow and subsequently spit out Toukam I had a rather interesting conversation with a fellow American. I'm not sure what his name was, but he had recently married a South African while working as a nuclear engineer in Cape Town. Apparently it isn't so easy to get an American visa for most people, evidenced by her multiple rejections. The man is currently working at a nuclear plant in New Mexico, which meant he was taking only 10 days to visit his wife in South Africa. From what I could gather from our conversation, he lives quite the globetrotting lifestyle- he claims to have lived in 15 states. His reaction to my road trip, however, was far from encouraging. I'm confident, though, that his reservations were based solely on false perceptions of Namibia and Botswana, as all the South Africans I have spoken with don't find it at all dangerous or unwise for me to be attempting such a trip.

Not wanting to look like a wayward city boy with britches too big wandering through the African wilderness, I decided to get my haircut on Wednesday. I hopped across the street and went to a barber shop I pass every time I get groceries and requested that they buzz my head with an 8-length trimmer. For some reason, the ladies at the shop were highly reluctant to do so, apparently boggled that someone with such luxurious locks would want to lob them off. I quickly assured them that I was indeed in my right mind, and the hairdresser reluctantly applied the small machine to my scalp. I'm happy with the result, and I now no longer have to worry about my hair during the trip. Hopefully the city boy look has morphed into the hardened traveler style.

Speaking of the trip, I'm leaving in a little more than a week! I've pretty much worked out the itinerary, and I am now reserving places at camp sites and hostels. Our current hang-up has to do with Toukam's visa-getting privileges. I've come to realize that being a US citizen has serious perks. For example, I have not had to visit a single embassy to gain access to South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Lesotho, or Swaziland. All I have to do is show up at the border without any firearms or visible maleficence and I gain access. In Toukam's case, being a citizen of Cameroon, he's pretty much subject to the whims of embassy staff for any country he wishes to visit. That being said, in order to join me as I drive through Lesotho and Swaziland, he need to get a visa beforehand. This wouldn't be an issue, however there aren't any embassies for those countries in Cape Town- they are all in Pretoria. Since this is the 21st century, one would think that Toukam would be able to mail his passport and get the visas stamped quickly and at a relatively low cost. Not so, apparently it requires a courier, and that courier apparently costs 100 dollars each way! We're trying to figure out a solution, but it goes without saying that 200 dollars is way too much money for two daylong trips.

If worse comes to worse, these two countries are small enough that they can be seen in one day, so maybe I'll drop Toukam off at the border or a nearby town in South Africa while I explore the country for the day. It's quite unfortunate for Toukam, but Old School Adventures don't wait on anyone. Another issue we're hoping will run smoothly is Toukam's bus to Upington. It's an overnight one, so hopefully there won't be traffic/accident problems but if there are and there's even one day of delay, that spells major cutbacks on the journey. There are no spare days on the back end of the trip, so a day lost means two days of driving crammed into one- not good, especially since it looks like Toukam won't be able to procure even a driving permit, leaving me with 4 weeks of driving. God help me. [Editor's note: Realizing that this last comment may alarm some of my more concerned readers, rest assured that those 4 weeks will be of days that on average will have only 3 hours of driving.]

Despite these (potential) setbacks, I am itching to get started! I long to be on the open road, exploring the African back country, and allowing myself to wallow in that nectar of the gods- Travel. Oh, to be untethered and roaming in lands unknown! My appetite for such divine substance will be satiated soon, Reader, which spells more good stories for you. I hope your weeks is proving to be productive and fulfilling. Thanks for reading.

Internationally Independent

2009-07-05T02:58:00.000-07:00

With more than two hours before the sun was to rise, Toukam and I awoke and hurriedly prepared ourselves for a day on the high seas. At 6AM, we started the 45 minute drive to Simons Town, which lies on the Cape Peninsula. The drive was peaceful, and the lack of other cars on the road made for smooth driving that allowed us to comfortably greet Independence Day.

Arriving in Simons Town, we had pre-dawn glimpses of quaint shops and a naval base before parking on Wharf Drive and walking to the end of the jetty where Blue Pointer II, our cruising yawl, sat. Rob, our skipper for the day, cheerily greeted us and helped us onto the swaying vessel, where we did our best to greet the darkened faces of the crew and our fellow shipmates. The crew wasted no time starting up the engines and darting at top speed out of the harbor, past the lighthouse, and into the Homeric wine dark sea. Our destination was Seal Island, a tiny piece of exposed rock in the middle of False Bay, the expanse of water between the Cape Peninsula and the mainland.

The island is so named because on top of the island and its frothy shores lie hundreds, if not thousands, of seals and their avionic friends. They seem to enjoy their isolated getaway, but it comes with its downsides. From dawn until dusk massive great white sharks circle the island, keeping their eyes out for a stray seal or two. Once sighted, the sharks charge at full force towards their prey, frequently launching their whole bodies out of the water, preferably with a seal in their jaws. If they don't act quickly, though, the seal has a chance to escape and so ensues a chase that thrills and entertains the foreigners on the boats surrounding the island.

The Rosy-Fingered Dawn

We arrived just as the rosy-fingered dawn was beginning and trolled around for about an hour and a half, seeing perhaps three shark attacks. As it became apparent that the sharks were not feeling very lively on this particular Independence Day, our guides employed the use of a creatively shaped wet suit. They attached the seal-reminiscent piece of neoprene to a fishing line and let it drag behind the boat for the remainder of our time. Sadly, the sharks must have been extra alert because nothing went in for the kill.

Eventually we slowed and let the anchor down about 200 yards from the island. This is where it started to get interesting. The crew untied the large, 8 foot tall cube of metal grating from the back of the boat and let it splash into the dark waters. The buoys did their job and the cage was successfully maneuvered to the side of the boat. Next, they tied some rather large pieces of fish to a line and let it float in the water while filling a bucket up with water mixed with fish pieces, letting it splash into the water intermittently. Finally, they let another, less sophisticated seal decoy float in the water.

The Cage

To make sure that we weren't getting our hoped up, Rob informed us that great whites tend to come to the boat in "approximately 5 minutes to 5 days" from the chum being put into the water. Luckily for us, we were closer to the 5 minutes side. We saw the boat next to us attract a shark and after about an hour we got our own friends to play with. One of them was really taken by our seal decoy and even took a bite out of it, leaving the tail for us to marvel at. The chum had worked its magic and the first pair to enter the tank, a high school aged brother and sister from Alberta, donned their charter-provided wet suits, gloves, masks, and boots and jumped into the cage.

Shark!

The process of the cage would be that once there were two people in it, one man would manage the bait line, pulling it closer to the boat to lure the shark towards the cage, while another would keep his eyes out for our carnivorous subjects to alert the divers when to hold their breath and dive for a look and where those of us on the boat could see the shark. It was slow going at first, but definitely thrilling. The sharks ranged from about 12 feet in length to nearly 20. Some would come up only for a quick look at what we had to offer while others would make multiple passes at the the boat in valiant attempts to outsmart the bait man.

As the next two pairings, a father and son from Cape Town and another duo from Alberta, got into the cage the sea started to calm, allowing the boat's sways to not be as seasickness-inducing. The sun was out, and a cool breeze kept the climate perfect for shark viewing. Toukam and I entertained ourselves with surface viewing and picture taking, but soon we felt the urge to go and get to know our guests. Rob assigned us some gear and after some rather unbalanced dressing we were ready to get up close and personal with those monsters of the deep.

The Cage Experience

Toukam and I Suited Up

I had been given an already wet wetsuit and therefore was not too shocked by the cold water as I climbed into the cage. At first, I was worried that we wouldn't get the chance to see many sharks, but I was pleasantly surprised when rather quickly I heard Rob call out that there was one coming. I took a deep breath and submerged myself at the bottom of the cage, grasping onto the metal bars to keep me under. As I peered through the murky water, I got my first glimpse of the shark as its gigantic but graceful body glided past the bait.

The first pass was not very close to the cage, but soon after I surfaced I was once again instructed to go under. This time the shark became a little more interested in the bait, taking a lunge at it as the bait man tried to get it out of reach. Seeing the jaws of the beast open and its eyes roll back, doing what it does best in the natural world, was inspiring. Though it would have been terrifying without the cage, the metal bars in front of me seemed to bar the passage of fear as efficiently as it did the intrusion of a shark. Instead of panic, I felt awe for the huge beast that sailed out into the sea.

Thankfully, it returned and proceeded to make about five more passes, coming closer and closer to the cage each time. A couple times it was so close that I could have easily reached through the bars and grabbed its fin. Luckily, my adventurous spirit was kept at bay and I contented myself with a more casual observation. Nearly 20 minutes after getting into the cage, I reluctantly lifted myself out and back onto the deck. I had definitely gotten my money's worth.

Impersonating the Shark After the Dive

For the next two hours or so, I walked around the boat, enjoying each new pass that the sharks made at the boat. There were a bunch of passengers left to dive, including a university lecturer from Australia, some Irishmen, and a Brit. Eventually, after putting another batch of chum into the water and saying goodbye to our newly made friends, we found ourselves speeding once again along the now glassy sea under the one o'clock sun. As we neared the harbor, we passed by South Africans in their sailboats as well as the pride of the South African navy.

Back on solid land, Toukam and I filled our empty stomachs at the Salty Sea Dog, a comfortable and sassily-decorated fish and chips joint on the wharf. It was a cheap and delicious meal, and we left feeling like we had experienced the best of Simons Town. The drive home was a little warm, but it was eased by the great views and energizing music of Justice. We made it back to the apartment at about three and spent the next couple hours doing a little work and dozing off.

After a visit to the internet cafe, we went to dinner at what I thought would be the most appropriate dining establishment for the 4th. It's called Spur, and it's a South African chain of restaurants that have the oddly specific theme of Native Americans. All of their materials bear the insignia of an Indian chief, complete with feather headdress. Inside, the menus contain mildly offensive but hilariously stereotypical stories about chiefs and braves, while also projecting the feeling of a family-friendly steakhouse. I've always been a connoisseur of all things that represent a foreign country's imitation of the States, so I found this especially hilarious.

The Restaurant

We sat down at the booth table overlooking the quiet street below and reviewed the menu of burgers, steak, ribs, and other "Native American food." Determined to have the most American meal possible to make up for not having even a single interaction with an American all day, I got buffalo wings and a cheeseburger, with classic Coca Cola to wash it down. The wings came and were a fantastic replication of the American original, which brought joy to my red white and blue heart. However, when my double "cheeseburger" arrived, I realized that it can never be this easy to replace the States.

What faced me when the waiter served me was a hamburger bun with each of the two sides faced up and topped with a hamburger patty, which was positively drenched with what can only be described as watered down nacho cheese sauce. I marveled at the sheer cultural disconnect that had just occurred. In the place of what should have been a sesame bun filled with a hamburger patty, slightly melted piece of cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, and ketchup there stood an inconceivable mess of bread and patty, swimming in a nearly inedible cheesy sauce. Luckily, it was made more acceptable by my forcible removing of some of the sauce. It was the saddest cheeseburger I have ever witnessed. The french fries, however, redeemed the entree as much as a side dish can for such a meal.

The "Burger"

Slightly traumatized by such a misadventure, I hoped and prayed that my dessert would do my home justice. In fact, my chocolate malt milkshake did that and more. It was a perfectly textured mix of solid and liquid that went smoothly, albeit quickly, down my throat. With such a victorious finale to my attempt at recreating 4th of July eating I left Spur, knowing that I would most likely never return but having had a thoroughly enjoyable time complete with in-seat grooving to "Dancing Queen" as it blasted over the speakers.

In summary, I have to say that this, the Independence Day of 2009, stands out as one of the most successful to date. I swam with one of the world's fiercest predators, enjoyed an exotic locale, and had a halfway decent American meal to top it all off. My sincerest hope, Reader, is that you had such a high quality holiday. May God bless you, and may He bless our great country.

Thoughts on Beauty

2009-07-03T00:10:00.001-07:00

For the same reason a rose among a surrounding of thorns is all the more elegant, I believe children in the destitute setting of a township are the most stunningly beautiful people on the planet.

Though they are surrounded by every type of need, every sort of desperation, and every variant of pain, the children of tin shacks and meager inheritance smile, laugh, and adore all the more, inspiring me to marvel at their seemingly paradoxical majesty. In the presence of their mothers' lamenting gazes and their grandmothers' defeated brows, township children wield eyes that, though indeed beautiful in themselves, seem to convert all the pity and lamentation that someone may feel into pure love and affection. These diamonds in the rough prevent their surroundings from spiraling into darkness as they defiantly exude the light of innocence, beckoning the hopeless to rely on their hope to continue onwards.

These thoughts came to me as I sat in the drafty and sparsely decorated home of a woman who lives in Red Hill, an "informal settlement" (read: township) where All Nations operates. Her friend's baby sat next to me, donning a bright pink and green hat with matching shoes, happily gurgling and smiling a toothless smile. The topic at hand was the woman's financial inability to travel to the Eastern Cape to visit her ailing mother, but almost everyone in the room was wearing a smile as the baby effortfully attempted to craft meaningful words. It was an amazing experience, and I could not stop thinking about how defiant, how stubborn the presence of such pure beauty was given the environment. I had seen photos, like we all have, of adorable African children, but in reality, when observed in their actual situation, these children are not just cute. They are jaw dropping displays of the most breathtaking splendor. They are warriors of light in a world of aggressive darkness that seems to break on every border.

My Christianne-led exploration of Red Hill included other experiences, like talking with a group of slightly drunk men, playing with soup-kitchen assisted teens, and experiencing the meaning of my desk job firsthand, but the impact of the beauty in such darkness is what sticks out to me the most. It's the type of beauty that allows someone to transcend all that may be weighing them down; to find the strength to give life another chance; to hope in what has not come in years. This is a beauty that is not enhanced by equally stunning surroundings, but rather it's a beauty that is only fully appreciated when juxtaposed with what ugliness it manages to survive in the face of. It's beauty that doesn't quickly fade from the mind.

I look forward to seeing one of the townships again, and I'm grateful to Christianne for taking me around her usual stomping ground. Now that I have seen and met the people that All Nations was designed to serve, I better understand why it is that people like Floyd have sacrificed so much to benefit these individuals.

My day was full of other activities, like cleaning and organizing Africa House and eating a fantastic meal with Toukam, but it is this outing that was most blog-worthy to me. I hope I did it justice with these feeble words I craft.

Sickness and Survival

2009-07-02T03:18:00.001-07:00

Some call is Montezuma's Revenge. Some call it Delhi Belly. Still others call is Traveler's Sickness. I call it the worst way to spend a Sunday.

Yes, my surprising monthlong run without getting sick here in Africa came to a violent, messy end when I found myself alone in my apartment, spending quality time with my new porcelain friend as I cursed whatever it was that gave me such pain. Upon further reflection, I can now confidently point my slowly recovering finger at the tuna and mayo sandwich that I made for myself on Sunday for lunch. Though the mayonnaise was new and the tuna unopened, I have determined that something happened along whatever African assembly plant they came from that declared all out war against my body. It was a valiant fight and there was much display of honor, but in the end the casualties sustained serve to dilute the sweetness of small victory.

Now that I'm past the experience, I can look back on it as a time for growth, but Reader, let it be known that at the time, I was cursing the day I set foot on this south hemispheric soil. My hope now is that my body, after weathering such a traumatic season, is now better prepared for any potential onslaughts that could arise in Namibia and Botswana. After a fitful night of sleep, I awoke on Monday weakened, but stable. I returned to work and managed to get some stuff done, but my fatigue eventually showed itself too plainly and Pat the secretary told me to go home. I did so happily and immediately took a three hour nap.

At about 8pm I got a call from Toukam, saying that he had successfully made it to South African soil and would be in Cape Town in the next two hours. I picked him up at the abandoned and poorly lit airport and got to hear all about the random adventures he had during his 48 hours in Oklahoma. I was tickled to learn that he had mistakenly been given first class seating on the way to the states. Maybe there's hope for me in August? I'm not counting on it.

Tuesday came and went without incident- I'm making pretty significant progress with the All Nations website while working on an emergency plan and aggregating random data. The weather has been spectacular- sunny and in the 70's! I have to say, I'm getting quite used to this whole "escape summer by switching hemispheres" thing. Maybe I'll try to keep it as a normal summertime activity...

For dinner, Toukam made some chicken with mushrooms, which I regrettably didn't even touch, as my stomach was not yet 100% prepared to cooperate. I ended up having it for a snack on Wednesday, and I can testify to its deliciousness. I displayed my lack of full recovery yet again on Tuesday night by going to bed at around 10pm. I would have regretted it, but when I awoke at 7 I felt like a million bucks and as of now it seems like I am at about 90%. It was a lonely breakfast, as Toukam had left at about 7 to go to work- it's really heating up out there in the for-profit world, I guess.

Wednesday went by pretty quickly. I made a bunch of suggestions for Floyd's personal site (www.floydandsally.org), worked even more on the new All Nations site, learned how to use a voice recorder so that I could teach Floyd, continued with the emergency plan, and made sandwiches for our construction workers. I've come to be convinced that I am doing the most diverse internship of anyone at Columbia. So far as All Nations' intern, I have done research, answered phones, made coffee, made spreadsheets, managed insurance, ordered a wall built, created a website, done carpentry work, moved cement, sorted clothing drive donations, fixed computers, done grocery shopping, washed dishes, and now, made sandwiches, all in my official capacity as summer intern. I wonder what's next?

My road trip is coming up frighteningly quickly. In a little more than two weeks, I'm heading to Namibia. Before that day comes, I need to go to the mechanic, buy a gasoline container, get all my supplies, pack out of the apartment, write my will (just kidding), reserve hostels, make an itinerary, and make sure I get my All Nations paycheck (wish I wasn't kidding). Despite my lack of preparations at this moment, I am yearning to head out on the open road and experience more of Africa than just this little cape peninsula, though it has indeed treated me well. The trip's proximity isn't making it look like any less of an old school adventure. I just need to find the perfect khaki vest and safari helmet...

Tomorrow at Africa House all of the long term volunteers have been called to come together and make the place presentable for the students who will be returning from their two month outreaches around Africa next week. I think it will be a good break from desk work, and afterwards I'm going with Christianne to one of the townships to see more of what All Nations does. I'll be sure to let you know all about it. Enjoy that sun and heat!

Hippos, Rhinos, and Elephants, Oh My!

2009-06-28T02:59:00.000-07:00

It may have been expensive. It may have been touristy. It may have even been overdone. But one thing is for sure about today's safari adventure- it was totally, indubitably, and unshakably awesome.

After going to sleep a little late because of my inability to resist Harrison Ford's portrayal of President Marshall in the movie Air Force One, I awoke at about 5:20AM to get ready for my day in the (semi)wild bush. I have to admit- I had my doubts that this whole project would pan out but sure enough, as I finished burning a couple CD's to provide musical accompaniment to the 2 hour drive, Christianne called me to let me know that she was about to arrive. When I got outside to get into the car, I found that there had been two late-notice additions to our party: a young Seattle-inhabiting couple visiting and volunteering with All Nations for two weeks. Joe and Danielle turned out to be quite a blast and I really enjoyed their company. In addition to those two, Christianne and Becka from All Nations came along.

It was still completely dark outside when we left, but as we got closer to the reserve, passing through misty canyons and long sub-mountainous tunnels, the sun rose behind dramatic silhouettes of the landscape. To the melodies of Death Cab for Cutie and Coldplay, the five of us talked about everything from Phoenix (Joe did Teach for America there) to the ethics of swerving to avoid birds while driving (Christianne had proven her "no swerve" stance practically to initiate such a discussion). When the sun has risen sufficiently enough to actually see the area around us, we found that some of the taller mountains were actually covered in snow! Surprising, considering the usual African stereotypes. I guess Cape Town's rain is the interior's snow.

Snow Capped Surprise

We arrived at the Aquila Private Game Reserve at about 8:15, early for the complimentary breakfast. At the sign-in office, however, we were met with a piece of bad news. Due to the downpour that the Western Cape province has been getting over the past week, the river had flooded and thus we wouldn't be able to get quad bikes into the reserve. Crestfallen at first, I soon regained my buoyancy upon the revelation that we would be paying nearly 50% less by going on their 4x4 safari. Without the quads, the adventure wouldn't be as intense, but in retrospect I think it would have been pretty miserable. I'm afraid my hankering for motorized vehicles will have to be limited to Aslan for now. We all paid for our modified safari and left the office, entering the resort area of the reserve.

The resort, which is still undergoing construction, is a grouping of thatched huts of varying sizes. Our escort briefly pointed out the luxurious bungalows and chalets before welcoming us to the dining room, which was a high-ceilinged thatched hut with appropriate decor and atmosphere. The breakfast that was provided, far from being the granola bar and condensed milk I was expecting, was a buffet feast of bacon, eggs, potatoes, fresh fruit, and excellent pastries. The five of us had a great time decompressing from the car ride as we sipped on mysterious bright pink juice and savored the taste of high-class chicken nuggets. Adding to the safari aesthetic were the small birds that flew across the room and occasionally snacked on the granola spread.

The Restaurant

Having finished eating, we huddled around the roaring fireplace and fought off the biting cold, talking with fellow safari members and taking a group picture. Eventually we were led out to the front again, where we were met by Andre, our guide, and his 12-seater open-topped Toyota Landcruiser. After we all piled in and had settled down with our Aquila Reserve embroidered blankets, Andre gave us the lowdown on the reserve rules and his driver took us speeding off into the reserve. To get into it, however, we had to cross the greatly swollen river that gave the truck a run for its money. If I hadn't believed the excuse about the quad bikes before, I was assured after crossing the river. Once through, a 11,000 acre plot of mountainous land awaited, boasting a decent selection of Africa's game animals.

The Group (Christianne, Joe, Danielle, Becka, and I)

Crossing the River

Almost immediately, as we drove beside a large pond, Andre pointed out our first sighting of the day- the reserve's group of five hippos. They were lazily grazing on the banks of the pond, eying the truck and occasionally "yawning" to display their large teeth and demonstrate their dominance. It was amazing to see these huge beasts in an unfenced area, doing as they pleased. We watched the baby hippo standing with its mom as Andre informed us that despite their amicable appearances, hippos kill the most people of any African animal.

Hippos (this one's for you, Claudia!)

We went on the move again, but not for long. The reserve's two elephants quickly found themselves the victims of countless photos as we pulled up next to them. The two male elephants were having a good time munching on vegetation and attempting to stay warm by keeping their ears pressed against their heads. Though they had only joined the reserve about a year ago, they seemed to be quite at home. Despite the elephants' relatively close proximity, I really appreciated the binoculars I had brought, which gave me a very close view of the long-memoried mammals.

Elephants

Next up we ran into three rhinoceroses, a mother, father, and baby. This time they beasts were not afraid to come closer the vehicles, and we got a very good look at their gigantic horns. Luckily for us, the baby was big enough that the mother was not feeling excessively aggressive towards us. Taking copious amounts of photos, we learned that the rhino's horn is not made of bone, the white rhino is less aggressive than the black rhino, and rhinos can't see past 15 meters. Andre was a fantastic guide, and I now feel like I am a responsible and educated visitor to South Africa.

The Standoff

After seeing enough of the rhinos, we drove to a secluded part of the park and had a break, during which we got out of the truck, learned about bushes and snakes, and drank champagne out of stainless steel cups. Disappointed that there aren't any black mamba snakes in this area, I was consoled after learning that the similarly poisonous Cape Cobra do live around Cape Town. Maybe I'll see one before I leave- from a safe distance, of course.

Andre pointing out hippo tracks

On Break

After an enjoyable break of talking and joking, we got back on the truck and headed over a range of hills to get to the relatively small enclosure that houses the king of the jungle. Though most of the animals roam freely, the lions at the reserve are being kept in a small enclosure until they get better acquainted to outdoor life and their large area is fenced up. Understandably, the reserve doesn't want lions roaming free to pick off all of its other animals. Even though the fence was a big downer, I enjoyed getting pretty close to the group of about eight lions. It was especially funny when Andre would get out of the truck and walk around, when all of the lions would simultaneously bob their heads as they followed their potential prey around with their eyes.

The Kings

On the last stretch of driving around the reserve, we got relatively close to a juvenile giraffe, some wildebeest, springbok, and others. I was so surprised to be seeing these huge animals, usually penned up in zoos, roaming around the scenery, sticking out because of their size. Still, they manage a decent amount of camouflage among the bushes and trees. We crossed the rushing river once again and headed to the reserve's rescue area, where they have cheetahs, leopards, and more lions. The reason they are in such small enclosures is because these were animals originally bread to be pets or to be shot in cruel types of hunting. Since they've been tainted by human contact, they can't survive out in the wild, so the people at the reserve are trying to breed them and get their offspring to be free roamers. Our viewing of the leopard was sadly inhibited when our efforts to be quiet for the shy cat were exploded by another group of women talking loudly.

Giraffe

It was time for our second meal and the end of the safari trip. The trip had lasted about 3 hours, which was more than enough time to have the safari experience, proving my friends' advice about safaris in moderation correct. I loved seeing all the animals and driving around the countryside, but there is only so much sitting in a truck and taking photos that a man can do, even if it includes strange and fascinating animals. However, I think Toukam and I will attempt a walking safari when we get to Kruger National Park, the largest of its kind, in August. That way, it will be more of an active experience.

The lunch was just as extravagant as the breakfast, with dozens of epicurean choices, a pleasant atmosphere, and warmer weather. Some of the people in the group were somewhat disappointed with the safaris lack of gigantic herds of water buffalo and other such fancies, but that was mainly because of unrealistically high expectations. I wasn't even sure we would be able to spot any of the animals, so I was thrilled to even see one, let alone a dozen! After a lunch of good food, better people watching, and great conversation, we found ourselves returning to Christianne's VW and heading back on the road to Cape Town.

Overall, it was a fantastic day, and I was happy to get out of Cape Town, hang out with some new people, and go on safari. Also, it got me excited about seeing all the new scenery that Africa has to offer. 20 days until Old School Adventure!

Sandpaper, Straight Edges, and Spreadsheets

2009-06-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

In another situation that makes my internship even harder to define, I spent today as an apprentice/helper of the carpenter who is working on the renovation of Africa House for about 7 hours.

Apparently, the contractor had run out of money to hire extra helpers, so Anneri asked me on Wednesday if I could help him out on Friday. Though slightly taken aback, I agreed to and thankfully had a couple days to psych myself up and get in a good attitude. By six o'clock on Friday morning (the time I needed to get up to get to work at 7:30 AM) I was excited to experience this new profession. I was slightly sleepy on the drive to work and it was a cold day, but I felt like it was the right day to take up some tools in my hands and build something.

The carpenter's name is Hdaba, which is most closely pronounced as "Uhn-daba". Think of it as saying the short form of "and Daba" - " 'n Daba" and you've got it good enough for him to respond. He's a really easygoing, kind, and wise guy- in fact, he's a pastor of a local church! I think it's pretty cool when a pastor, who is stereotypically not much of manual laborer, has such talent and such a work ethic. I really enjoyed chatting with him as I helped construct shelves all around our new kitchen. As I became more and more comfortable with the process, Hdaba would exclaim, "You've got the vision, Bruddah!" as I handed him the right screw or placed the ~~balancing tool~~ level on top of the shelf to measure. He brings such enthusiasm to his work- each successful step of the job is met with a huge smile and cheer of victory. Even though he's actually a certified welder by trade, he knows a little about carpentering and seems to be doing a fantastic job at Africa House.

One of the more interesting comments he made was about the work ethic of the black population here. There's a widespread attitude among blacks that they can't do anything because they are dependent on whites to get work or make progress. This perceived laziness actually arises from the Apartheid days, when apparently a black worker had to have a white supervisor on the job. As the National Party got more control, they essentially taught the black populations that in order for them to do anything, they need the involvement of a white. That attitude has persisted, much to the misfortune of those black populations.

I enjoyed my brief, 7-hour apprenticeship, which had me using plaster to fill in holes in the walls, holding up shelves at awkward angles, removing and fixing a door, and even a little bit of sandpapering. Though not necessarily grueling, it was more physical work than I usually do, but it was worth it. There's something about making things with your hands using expert knowledge that really gives fulfillment. I still couldn't help laughing at the image of me, a city boy college student majoring in the least practical things possible, taking up a hammer and getting my hands dirty. Being well rounded has its costs. I joked that I was going to quit All Nations and start following Hdaba around learning from him instead...

After washing off all the caked-on plaster from my hands, I had another meeting with Floyd about the website, which was pretty nice. He had some suggestions and I think I'm really going to get into the thick of it next week. These days, an organization's website is one of their most important assets, so hopefully I can make All Nations' acceptable. As I sent Floyd my notes from the meeting, I noticed a devastating news story- Michael Jackson died! It's so sad to see him go, even if he was a creeper. Such talent!

The apartment is now slightly lonelier now that Toukam is stateside. On Thursday I drove him through the rush hour traffic to the airport, where he set off with his two little bags off to the land of the free and the home of the brave. He's actually coming home Monday night, which means he's spending about the same amount of time in the airplane as he is actually on US soil. Oh, the marvels of modern travel. It has been interesting having the apartment to myself, but not devastating. In fact, I even cooked a semi-elaborate dinner for myself last night- successfully. I think cooking my own food this coming year at Columbia won't be too bad after all.

When I got back from the airport I picked up some roadmaps for Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa. Now that I'm only about 20 days away from departure, I'm getting into the practical aspects. Surprisingly, it turns out that Anneri spent her whole childhood in Namibia and offered some suggestions that have drastically changed (and hopefully improved) my route. This trip is going to be awesome.

Turns out that we are actually going to do the quad biking through the game reserve tomorrow! Christy Ann, myself, and Beca from All Nations will be heading out in the early morning tomorrow for the 2 hour ride. It's going to rock! I'll be sure to post pictures after. Hope all is well on your end.

Hail to the Chief

2009-06-24T00:37:00.001-07:00

I'm tempted to say that the past couple days have been pretty run-of-the-mill, but I guess I should qualify that by saying they have been AFRICAN run-of-the-mill, which I think better encapsulates the strange mixture of the normal and the exotic that defines my life here.

At work, the return of our director Nelis has meant that I've had an increased flow of projects and errands to run, which thankfully breaks up the monotony of the larger projects I've been working on. Also, the return of Floyd from Taiwan means that all our leadership is home again and ready for action. In fact, I had an hour-long meeting with Floyd on Monday to update him on the All Nations websites as well as the report on Zanzibar that I'm writing for him. It's amazing that he can be in charge of so many people and so many projects and be able to have one-on-one meetings with so many people. I was honored to have received a slot in his schedule and tried my best to be a prepared intern. Thankfully, he left me with more people to contact and more paths to take as I progress.

Toukam is flying back to the states on Thursday until about Tuesday for his friend's wedding in Oklahoma. Besides spelling a harsh lesson in jet lag for my flatmate, it means I'll have the apartment to myself this weekend. Some of my coworkers down at Africa House are continuing their plans for the game reserve quad biking trip, which I'm getting more and more excited about. Apparently the reserve is about 2 hours outside of Cape Town and for just $100 they give you breakfast and lunch and take you out into the reserve on quad bikes for about 4 hours. I was dissappointed to find that they don't have any elephants on the reserve, but they have everything else (lions, zebras, giraffes, leopards). We'll probably go on Friday or Saturday. My imagination is still serving up images of riding my ATV among a running pride of lions...

Our culinary conquests have continued to be successful- Toukam made jerk chicken on Sunday night and then we both made yellowtail fish and meaty pasta yesterday and today, respectively. I'm still learning the "way of the spices" from Toukam. When I think back to the early days (read: two weeks ago) of our cooking, I can't help laughing at our inability to even make rice. I'm glad humans learn so well on the go- but then again, maybe it's just when there's food involved.

As the 17th looms closer and closer, I keep on drifting towards my guide books in spare time. I read last night that as I traverse the great Kalahari desert, I may have to camp near a village. Of course, being Botswana, the guide advises me to "locate the chief of the nearby village and ask him for permission to camp on his land, as well as for advice on where to sleep." How incredible is that? I'm trying not to imagine myself as a Livingston type, but with my guidebooks saying things like that, how can I help it? I think I'm going to return to my hostel from back in May to consult their "African Travel Centre," just to make sure I'm not completely off base with my plans. Maybe I should brush up on my click languages, too...

My application for the OpEd is pretty much complete. I've sent it off to a friend of mine who wrote a conservative column herself this year for her feedback, and once I get it back I think I'll send in the app early, hopefully resulting in extra brownie points for yours truly. I was thinking, if I have a right-leaning column for all of college and get a school year internship with the National Review, I could have a respectable backup career as a pundit. For now, I'll just focus on the campus newspaper.

For the rest of the week, we have a lot of heavy rain and high winds to look forward to, as well as a run to the airport, but the quad-biking is what is getting me through. Is it too much to ask to ride with the lions?

Bacon + Hiking = Unnecessary Risk

2009-06-21T03:36:00.000-07:00

Waking with the abbreviated exclamation of "TGIF" on my mind, I started off Friday with a sunny commute down to Noordhoek and some walking errands for the boss. One of them included going to the bank to get change, which exposed me to the high-security world of South African financial work. To get into a bank, you have to enter through a contained cube between two doors- waiting for the first to close before the second opens to let you into the bank. It's the same on the way out so that if a robber were to come, the teller could lock him/her between the doors. Once inside the bank, the tellers are all behind bulletproof glass and the only way to transfer things is by a sliding tray. Additionally, the door between the teller area and the main bank is not only extremely thick, but it opens only enough for one person to walk through from a little compartment. Considering the amount of bank robberies and attempted bank robberies that happen here, I'd say the security is worth it.

The rest of the day was filled with insurance inventorying, website updating, and report writing. I got off early (3:30) and headed home, where I went to the internet cafe and did some work for CTICE. Apparently they have almost 15 summer interns, and I'm looking through their work and making suggestions to make it better. I've got to say that I feel a little honored to be a "senior intern" of sorts. Hopefully I'll live up to such a title, if you can call it that. The office is up to some really cool things, and I'm excited to be a small part of them. CTICE is turning out to be the swiss army knife of departments at Columbia- they do everything from entrepreneurship to green initiatives to community service projects.

For dinner I attempted some curry beef with rice, and although the flavor, rice, and veggies were top-notch, the beef was pretty terrible, being that it was as hard as rock and nearly impossible to chew. I guess there will always be room for improvements in our kitchen...

Like I mentioned in my last post, I had wanted to do the shark diving thing on Saturday, but the company wasn't doing their cheaper/shorter dive trip, and we didn't want to pay an extra 100 dollars. However, it turns out that a group has signed up for the afternoon/cheap trip on the 4th of July, so it looks like Toukam and I will be celebrating America's independence under the water with what some could call the US' counterparts of the animal world. In other adventure news, some of my coworkers have invited me to go to a game reserve where they let you ride quad bikes around with the animals! I'm imagining driving through the bush encountering elephants and lions, but I'm not sure if that's what's going to happen.

Since the shark diving wasn't on for Saturday, we decided to take advantage of the great weather by conquering a foe that has imposed itself on us for our entire time here- Table Mountain itself. After a delicious breakfast of bacon and eggs, we drove to the base of the mountain and, after consulting a dog-walker, found the right trail to take. Soon after we began our climb up the mountain, I learned a basic lesson in hiking- bacon and hiking don't go well together, especially after inadequate water consumption. However, the consequences weren't severe, and we were on our way again after a water break. It took us about 1 hour and 45 minutes to get to the top, at which time we were completely exhausted and ready to eat our carefully prepared peanut butter and honey sandwiches. The view from the top was amazing- we could see all of Cape Town as well as its suburbs on both sides of the mountain. There were some clouds, but they were either above or below us, which made for great weather on top. We took a bunch of pictures and, after considering taking the cable car down, decided to take the rough road and hike down. Though 45 minutes shorter than the ascent, it was still challenging. However, now I can say that I hiked up and down Table Mountain- a native's feat, I should think.

Toukam at the Top

The Top

The View

The Clouds

A Hiker Victorious

We recuperated back at the apartment and spent the afternoon doing work and, regrettably, watching the Bollywood movie that was playing on television. I must say, Bollywood movies are exceedingly strange. So much dancing, singing, and random english phrasing. I like to think of it as cultural exposure. For tonight, I think we'll try and do something original with the chicken we bought and continue with reading/working while our legs recover from the hike.

Thanks for reading- hope all is well on your end. Have a great Fathers Day!

Curious Case

2009-06-19T00:36:00.001-07:00

After returning from the summit of relaxation that was Youth Day, I returned to work on Wednesday. It was an average day, except that we were dealing with a burglary that had happened the weekend before. Apparently during the 30 minutes that a couple guys in Africa House took to run an errand, someone broke into their dorm room and took one of the guys' luggage. Surprisingly, someone called him later that night offering to give him his passport and medication back. Rightfully wary of someone who could offer such a thing, they called the police to escort them to the "meeting." Unfortunately the person had left already and contacted them again later in the evening, when they met him without the police. He gave them back the passport and medication without question, but didn't give them back the clothes, saying that they were "wet after sitting in the rain." Happy to just have that much of their stuff returned, they just left.

Though they got some of their stuff back, the problem of a break in being able to happen without our alarm going off had to be dealt with. The security company guys returned and fiddled around for a bit and left. We thought the ordeal was over with, but lo and behold there was yet another break-in on Wednesday night! Apparently the potential robber somehow unlocked our gate without hurting the lock and disarmed all the alarms, while stealing away with only a remote-controlled panic button for the alarm system. Puzzled as to why the potential thief didn't try and take anything more valuable, we still had all the security people come by once again to make more changes. Hopefully I won't come to work tomorrow to a scene of further criminality.

On Wednesday morning I had the rare chance to talk with someone in real life about our insurance policy, which was much more exciting than it should have been. I had been getting tired of having to call the insurance company multiple times in order to get to talk with one knowledgeable person, so I opted for an insurance broker to handle All Nations' insurance. Though adding a middleman may make the process slower in some respects, it is extremely nice to have someone who will pick up the phone and answer questions, and even come to your workplace for a meeting. Our broker's name is Gerry and he seemed like a good guy, even if he is a salesman... I can tell you that I'm learning a lot about insurance down here.

For dinner on Wednesday night Toukam and I went out to eat, as we were a little tired of cooking every night. After consulting our Cape Town guidebook, we opted for Saigon, a Vietnamese restaurant a short drive away. The restaurant was quite empty when we arrived (a combination of it being a Wednesday night and the middle of winter, assuredly) but it started filling up over time. We consulted the diverse but quality menu and decided to share some calamari as a starter and then move on to some mildly spicy red duck curry and some spicy basil beef. The guidebook didn't let us down and we really liked the food. The only disappointment was when their lack of fresh ginger meant that we could not explore the temptingly named "Ginger Ninja" cocktail. I settled for a margarita, but I still wonder what Asian deliciousness was kept from me...

Having spoiled ourselves with going out, we pursued further culinary know-how on Thursday night when I made the most satisfying meal a man can make. I made, not chicken thighs nor chicken breasts, but an entire chicken on a bed of potatoes. There's something about putting an entire bird into the oven and taking it out 50 minutes later, after the heat and spices have done their jobs, and finding a juicy, saliva-inducing confection that makes a man feel like a man. It was heaven, and I look forward to the next opportunity to make a whole chicken. It was so good, so hearty, and so easy!

For some of you who are news junkies like myself, you will know that this past week Obama named the selection board for the White House Fellows program. This program was started by President LBJ and serves to provide America's best and brightest young minds with the opportunity to work alongside cabinet members for a year. While looking around the website for the fellows, I found the listing of last year's fellows with their bios. What a sight! These 13 people who are finishing up their fellowship have some of the craziest biographies, especially for being under 40! One woman who stands out has been a consultant with McKinsey, board member for multiple large organizations, marathon and bike race participant, author of a book, humor writer with material in the New York Times, two-time patent earner, and volunteer in Calcutta. Oh, and she went to Harvard and then Oxford. How much crazier can you get? I think I may add this fellowship to my list of life goals. There is a downside, though- if I get it I'll have to give up my British citizenship to get the security clearance. Oh well, what's success without sacrifice?

Once again we're hoping for sunny weather on Saturday to attempt shark diving, but don't get your hopes up- the weather has been clear for the past couple days, which spells doom for the coming weekend. Thanks for reading and, as usual, stay classy Reader!

Old School Adventure v.2.0

2009-06-18T04:01:00.000-07:00

Here are the most recent plans for our Old School Adventure! You can just look at the picture or click on the link below for a more interactive experience. The blue line is Aslan's path, the red is Toukam's overnight bus, and the marker is where we will rendezvous in Upington. Comments and suggestions are welcome!

LINK TO MAP

Brandishing and Bribes

2009-06-17T00:08:00.000-07:00

As is natural with settling in a new city for a relatively long period of time, days become ordinary. On Monday we ran full-tilt on schedule. Leaving by 8:30 AM, doing work all day, and arriving home in time to cook dinner, read, and relax.

Despite the achievement of normality, we are still quite aware of our extraordinary surroundings. Though easy to forget temporarily, the fact that we are living and working in Africa, of all continents, still weighs on our minds. I love being here, exploring this new city and noticing all the subtle differences between here and home. Besides all the obvious changes that I have experienced like driving on the left and the multiplicity of languages, it is the less noticeable ones that are the most interesting and, admittedly, the most humorous. Allow me to list some for you:

Traffic lights, though they operate in the exact same way as in the States, are actually called "Robots". No joke. And that isn't an informal name, either. The streets will be painted with "Robot Ahead 200m" or there will be signs posted warning of an upcoming robot. I still can't help imagining a 20 foot tall mechanical, violent creature in the middle of the road when I'm about to turn a corner after being forewarned of an upcoming robot. When I get home, I look forward to telling people about South Africa's abundant population of traffic-directing robots.

In an effort to manage the 23% unemployment here, the government and various business have thought of creative ways to pay people. On of the most humorous is the job of "flag waver." At the site of almost every construction job along the highway on my way to work, there is always a man or woman standing along the road where the construction is, waving a large neon-orange flag. They will be there even if nobody is working on the site, and each will have a different amount of enthusiasm for their job. Some will provide passers-by with one apathetic wave every couple seconds while others will flourish their flag with passion. In addition to flag twirlers, other occupations include a designated person at the grocery store who will weigh your vegetables for you and gas station attendants who have to be the ones who operate the pump and check your motor oil.

Though perhaps not a specifically South African cultural tidbit, the earliness of stores closing is really bothersome. Honestly, most stores will be closed by 5pm during the week and won't open on Saturday or Sunday. I'm hoping that this is just a winter thing when the tourists are gone, because if this what it is like during the summer then I feel really bad for the population.

Tuesday was Youth Day, a public holiday that memorializes the slaughter of 80 young people by the police at an Apartheid protest in 1960. As a public holiday, it meant that Toukam and I had the day off. We were hoping to go on top of Table Mountain, but we awoke to sadly cloudy skies. Making the most of what the weather had provided, we slept in and eventually went to a local German-owned bakery, where we got various baked goods and coffee to start our morning off right. Returning to the apartment, I was momentarily at a loss of what to do, mainly because I finished Atlas Shrugged on Monday! It was a great victory- vanquishing all 1200 pages. I am now much more informed about the ways of the Libertarian. Her philosophy is very interesting and doubtlessly unique, but I'm afraid I'll refrain from subscribing to it. There are valuable tidbits, yes, but as a whole it is a very depressing philosophy. Then again, it's better than socialism/communism...

I decided to work on my current occupation- applying for an opinion column in Columbia's daily newspaper, the Spectator. I wrote a piece about Reagan last December, so they approached me with the application. I had thought about getting a regular (bi-monthly) column, but I was motivated anew when they gave me the application. I'm almost done with it, and the article that I'm turning in with the application (it's a requirement to write an original sample) is entitled "Be 'Close-Minded'". I'm still working it out, but if I get the column, you'll be able to see it online as I plan on making it my first piece. After finishing most of the app, Toukam and I thought about potential names for the column, among which are "Right on Time," "Rightly Yours," "Right After This," "Right Time, Right Place," and (in a reference to the great William F Buckley) "Standing Athwart." If I am fortunate enough to get the column, I'll be wanting your input, my dear Reader, for its name.

Wanting to get outside to enjoy what little sunlight the day had to offer, we walked to the convention center to see the Cape Town Book Fair. What was going to be a pleasant browsing of the best books publishers had to offer turned into a full exhibition of South African sketchiness. Upon finding an entrance into the main conference hall, we were stopped by a stout security guard who asked for tickets. Not having any, we asked how much they were and where they were procurable. He asked if we were students, but Toukam was the only one with a student ID, so they wanted me to pay about 10 bucks to get in, which I didn't find worth it. Eventually the security guard, through plenty of hints, indicated that we could just pay him and his friend to get in. Finding that ridiculous and completely not worth it, we turned to walk away. They continued to talk with us, and eventually it seemed like they were going to let us in, so we walked right in and they didn't stop us. After a good 3 minutes of walking around, the security guard intercepted us again and bothered us to "buy a ticket", meaning bribe him. Completely aghast that he thought the book convention was that important to us, we told him that we really didn't care and left the convention. We consoled ourselves by telling to each other that it totally wasn't worth it, and instead we got a 5 dollar lunch at the cafeteria.

We walked back home and spent the afternoon reading, going to the internet cafe, and cooking. Overall, an interesting Youth Day indeed. Hopefully next time we're in the position to bribe someone it will be for something actually important.

Land of Wine

2009-06-14T06:23:00.001-07:00

The small chance of rain that I alluded to in my last post actually was a daylong downpour that put a dampen on all of the Cape residents' moods. Despite the grim clouds, though, Toukam and I decided to hope for a clear-up in the skies as the day went on and got in the car, headed to Stellenbosch, the capitol of South African wines. It was about an hour away, and we got to pass by dilapidated expanses of township shacks. It was a really sobering sight to see- poverty of that magnitude so widespread.

As we cruised down the N2 freeway at a cool 120 kph, the rain continued to pour, obstructing our views of the surrounding mountains. We got of the highway and on to the road that took us into the town of Stellenbosch. Though only a small town, it has plenty of restaurants and a well-stocked tourist office for all the foreigners hankering for that nectar that pours from the locally grown grapes. We picked up a map and charted our course to Jordan, the largest wine estate in the area that was highly complimented in our guide book.

Though we had charted our course, we proceeded to drive around for about 30 minutes, hopelessly unaware of our location and its relation to our desired destination. Twice we returned to our starting point and attempted a second attempt. Finally, after developing our ability to read street signs and follow the official wine route signage, we got onto a small, one lane road that took us beyond a couple vineyards and into the empty parking lot of Jordan. Inside in the wine tasting room, we were the only two customers and took the advice of the attractively-accented young woman behind the counter and proceeded to taste each of the wines made by the estate. This being our first wine tasting, she led us through all the necessary steps of swirling, smelling, spreading, gurgling, and even spitting. We learned that when something has hints of asparagus, it isn't that they ferment asparagus alongside the grapes, but rather it is just another word in the elaborate code of a wine connoisseur.

Not wanting to return empty-handed, we decided to buy a bottle of red and white wine- a chardonnay and a red blend. Due to their shockingly high price of nearly 13 dollars (as compared to 4 in the supermarket for everything else), we think we'll save them for special occasions. Because of the frequency of special occasions here, though, I don't think we'll be waiting long.

We took our leave of Jordan and returned to Stellenbosch for lunch. The wine tasting lady had recommended Gino's, a family style Italian place, so we found it and had a lengthy lunch of focaccia, pizza, and pasta. The rain hadn't stopped, but we walked around the town briefly and got back in the car. The next winery was Morgenau, which has been making wine since the 1600's and is based in a 19th century house. The pictures I posted yesterday are of Morgenau. We ended up arriving to the tasting as they were closing, so we could only try three wines- a sparkling white and two reds. Feeling bad for keeping them past closing, we bought a bottle of the red that we tried and, after sneaking a peak at their fermenting cellar, took a brief walk around the estate. It started to rain again, so we got back in the car and realized that trying to see more vineyards and towns would be utterly futile in this weather. Feeling slightly defeated, we headed back to the Mother City. It was a fine day trip and it smacked of adventure yet to come.

On Sunday morning we headed out early to make it to the one year anniversary service for Hillsong. They had combined multiple services, and we were in a much bigger auditorium at the convention center. The service started off well with quality worship music, but it took an unfortunate turn when the guest pastor, who runs the Hillsong church in London, gave the sermon. Let me just say that it was a sermon of highly questionable quality. He spent the first 20 minutes saying the same thing fifty different times in mildly different ways and then the rest of it making a point that was both horribly structured and unfortunately generic. However, it was encouraging to see that there were some church members who seemed to appreciate his effort. Let me just say that I am glad he was just a guest pastor.

Toukam and I are looking forward to the Tuesday of this week, which is Youth Day. We both have a day off of work, and we're hoping it will be sunny so that we can take the cable car up to Table Mountain. If we do, you're in for some great pictures, Reader! That's all I have to say for today- a pleasantly brief post for the weekend. Thank you so much for reading.

Kurdish

2009-06-13T08:13:00.001-07:00

On Wednesday evening, I stayed late at work for a pot luck dinner with the long term staff at All Nations. Though at first I hadn't been invited, the secretary, Pat, took pity on me and asked Sally (Floyd's wife and cofounder of All Nations) to ask me to join, since she was the one who organized it. Because of my still-developing cooking skills, I opted to copy Pat and pay Anneri (a former chef, I come to find) to make our share of the food.

At about 5pm the guests started arriving, and I finally got to have some conversations with Sally. She told me all about her friendship with my grandparents. My grandfather was once on the board of a missionary organization that Floyd was a big part in, and they have been friends ever since. As I listened to her stream of complimentary comments about my two grandparents, I felt like I was among old family friends. It was a nice feeling, and I really appreciated spending time chatting with Sally. Hopefully we'll be able to talk again soon. The dinner itself was quite enjoyable. Besides the two people who brought KFC, the food was excellently home-made and there was plenty for all. It was really interesting to talk with some of the people there who I hadn't met. One guy, Ashley, had been born and raised in Cape Town, went to Germany for seminary, and then worked in Holland before returning to his home country after the fall of Apartheid.

After work on Thursday, Toukam and I decided to eat out, despite our lack of cooking on Wednesday night. We chose Mesopotamia, a Kurdish restaurant that lies on the second story of an old building on Long Street- the main restaurant drag in Cape Town. We arrived to a relatively empty establishment, its floor cushions and dark Middle Eastern tones inviting us for a long dinner. Our waitress, who turned out to be from Equatorial Guinea, took us to our table, which was essentially a large brass disk with intricate carvings, held up by crisscrossed ironwork. Though the 175 rand (21 USD) fixed menu seemed a little pricey, we jumped for it since it seemed to promise the most exciting, eclectic, and delicious meal. It was a promise unbroken.

Our first course was a plate of 12 or so spreads to dip our naan bread into. Ranging from spicy chicken to cucumber yogurt and hummus to feta cheese, the platter reflected the convergence of cultures that the Kurdish people and their way of life represent. Toukam and I tasted it all differently, as I had garlic and cheese naan and he had olive and cheese naan, but we found common ground in its scrumptiousness. We were given a chance to reflect on the colors, flavors, and textures of the first course while we waited for the main one. The pause was filled with discussions of old friends, future hopes, and yes, even taxation.

The next course arrived accompanied with a needed explanation of its contents. It presented a range of tastes from slow-cooked pork to roasted chicken. Toukam and I stuffed ourselves on the pork chops, rice, and stewed chicken, nearly overwhelmed by the many flavors of the meal. We may not have finished the entire course, but it was not for lack of trying or enjoyment. Rather, our stomachs would not allow it for the sake of what was to come- dessert. That last course - baclava with a side of ice cream - was of a perfect substance and proportion. It was not a last attempt to fill a stomach, but a reserved and confident punctuation mark at the end of a well written sentence. It was closure. Sweet, rich closure.

As we were paying for the great meal, our movement was arrested by the sudden blaring of music on the restaurant's speakers. Moments later, a gyrating blur of blue and green sequins and fabric lit up the darkened restaurant. The bellydancer had arrived. Complete with a headdress of mesh-like cloth that barely covered her face from her eyes down and brass finger symbols that audibly clashed but visually matched with the music, she performed her art up and down the restaurant to an audience either amused or indifferent. Rest assured Toukam and I were well in the amused faction.

In the middle of her second song, she seemed to tire of her solo gig and decided to bid none other than yours truly to join her. She extended her symbol clad hand and bade me join her with her olive colored eyes. Bewitched by her movements but hesitating because of the onlookers, I joined her on the restaurant floor and proceeded to exhibit the worst sample of bellydancing that the restaurant has probably ever seen. Having let down all of the formerly cheering patrons, I took my leave from her with a bow that she so gracefully returned. After sitting down, grateful that no camera of ours had captured the moment, she continued her performance, ensnaring others to join her - all of whom displayed more talent than I. Toukam and I took our leave and walked home on the empty streets below. I wondered aloud whether or not my dancing partner gives private lessons...

At work on Friday I continued with working with insurance. I found out that our policy, though comprehensive, becomes invalid in the event of riots, terrorism, war, martial law, or nuclear attack. I was reassured, though, upon finding that we are insured against "aircraft and any objects falling therefrom." After moving a bed from one room to another at the request of Anneri, I returned to the office where I transitioned to working on the website among intermittent losses of internet and phone service. At about 2 pm I was perhaps unwittingly recruited to drive two of the girls from Africa house to the guesthouse (you'll remember it as the first All Nations building I saw) and help them sort various donated clothing. What it ended up being was an exercise of transporting large bags of carelessly-packed clothing into a house, distinguishing between male and female articles, and discarding the many pieces that were marred by nasty stains or irreparable holes. Though not exactly what I had in mind when leaving for work, it was a good practice in patience and I got to talk with one of the women, who comes from Nigeria and is taking a break from studying at a seminary there.

Now that I'm home, all I can say is TGIF, and unfortunately tomorrow will not include any interactions with the beasts of the deep that I mentioned in my last post. Not enough people signed up for the excursion and it may rain, so we're postponing it for later. Perhaps we'll drive to the winelands. Hope all is well with you!

Views from a Commute and Day Trip

2009-06-13T07:49:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone, here are some pictures from my life here in Cape Town. The first three are from a particularly sunny commute, and the last four are from our day trip to the Stellenbosch winelands. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Efficiency

2009-06-11T00:16:00.001-07:00

With a newly repaired car and an eager mind, I drove to work yesterday. It ended up being what has become a normal day- Wake up at 7, leave by 8:30, get to work around 9, work until 12, have lunch, and leave around 4, getting home at around 4:40 and spending the remaining time either doing work for CTICE or reading until Toukam returns at 6, then dinner and more reading. I've come to realize that what we are living is the typical commuter workaday lifestyle, and I don't think it's too bad!

Though this may sound trivial, not having homework and just having to do your job from 9-4 every day really opens up your schedule, and since Toukam and I aren't really rooted in family and friends here in Cape Town, we don't have any obligations. We can take time to cook a semi-elaborate dinner, read a lot of books for pleasure, and just enjoy life. I'm not saying I don't enjoy life in the fast-paced demanding life at Columbia, it's more that I'm savoring the slower tempo of this current situation.

That being said, the last couple days haven't seen too much progress in Atlas Shrugged. On Tuesday night we took advantage of the inherent strength in numbers and ventured out into the abandoned streets to use our calling cards to connect back home. It was really nice to talk to a couple of my friends back home. I feel like I'm in some parallel universe- I'm essentially doing what all my friends are doing- hanging out, going to work, and wasting some time, but I'm doing it in this strange new place where everything is just slightly off normal. There are accents, no street signs, people on the wrong side of the road, and hanging out is called "jollying".

At work, I'm continuing to work with the insurance as well as compiling a directory of local restaurants, sights, and other things for visitors to Africa House. I've had enough experience interacting with businesses here to make the following hypothesis- if all of Cape Town's businesses were to be suddenly transported stateside, the majority would fail miserably. I say this because customers seem to have to nag potential suppliers to do their job. An example- All Nations is trying to order 30 Xhosa bibles from the Bible Society, and I have had to call them at least twice to ask them to please send me the invoice for the order so that we can pay for it. What kind of business operates so poorly that customers ask companies to be able to give the companies their money? And it's not an isolated occurrence- the insurance company is just as bad. I'm told things are a lot better in JoBurg, but in Cape Town, it is really stunning.

On Wednesday morning, we had an early start because I had to drive Toukam to the American embassy so that he could get his visa to go back to the US for a friend's wedding. The embassy ended up being right on my commute, so I took him there in time for his 8 AM appointment. The complex that housed the embassy was gigantic! It was just finished in 2005, and it takes up a large chunk of land in a suburb of Cape Town. They must be able to house at least 250 employees there, and I don't think it's the only embassy in this three-capitoled country. I ended up sitting outside the embassy, getting chastised for trying to use my computer and take a picture, while I waited an hour for the officials to sufficiently question Toukam and give him his unnecessarily-long 6 month visa for a weekend trip. I was reminded of how spoiled we Americans are because we can go into almost any country without getting a visa beforehand, while Toukam (a Camaroonian citizen) has to go to an embassy beforehand almost any time he wants to visit another country.

After that brief visit on American soil, I dropped Toukam off at a nearby train station (the train would get him there faster than trying to negotiate through the rush hour traffic) and I went to work. It was a nice way to start the day.

In Old School Adventure news, things are shifting around quickly! As of now, we're pretty sure that I will be getting off work on July 17, and that I will be flying out August 14 and Toukam on August 15. We are unsure of when Toukam will get off work. His contract says July 31, but we may be able to push it back to the Wednesday, the 29th. With that in mind, I'm rolling with the idea of my doing a solo trip before joining up with Toukam. After looking it up, I found that Toukam could take an overnight bus and meet up with me somewhere along the way.

Therefore, this is what I'm thinking. I'll drive up through Namibia, into Botswana, and back down into north-central South Africa, where I'll meet up with Toukam, after which we will continue east through JoBerg, and the rest of South Africa, ending with the Garden Route from Port Elizabeth to Cape Town. It's ambitious, but I think it would be just crazy enough to deserve the title of Old School Adventure. I'll be making a map soon.

Right now, the only problems in the way are: 1) The driving age in Namibia may be 21 (I've heard that from my guidebook, but the people in Drive Africa said that's rubbish and I could totally drive there) 2) We might be pressing it too hard and not allowing for slow-downs 3) The rendezvous in the middle of South Africa may be more difficult than it appears. I'm confident we'll find solutions to these issues, and I'll keep you posted.

For this weekend, I found out that it is probably going to be sunny on Saturday, so I booked Toukam and I for going cage diving with Great White Sharks! It's kind of close to my work, and it's 140 dollars for an afternoon trip, which includes all diving equipment and refreshments, as well as a small group going and lots of time in the cage if you want. It should be awesome! I'll get you more details as it comes closer.

Hope you're all doing well! Thanks for reading!

Breakdown

2009-06-09T00:32:00.001-07:00

Today, I got to know the M3 (the highway I take to work) quite well, but more on that later in the post.

On Sunday, I slept in until the late hour of 9 AM and decided to make eggs for breakfast, since it was Toukam's 28th birthday! I was grateful to see my scrambled eggs turn out infinitely better than my attempt at a sunny side up egg last week. We had a nice breakfast and headed out on foot to Hillsong Church at the convention center. For those who don't know, Hillsong is a very popular Christian band, with many younger churches using their songs for their congregation to sing. They're originally from Australia, but they have started churches in England and here. It was a quite enjoyable service, though the fog machine and light show during the worship time may be a little over the top.

At the service we ran into the Americans who are working at All Nations with the t-shirt printing business. It was nice to run into them and have a brief chat. They were headed back to Africa House early to go to a celebration marking the successful purchase of a property across the street, where they will be housing the t-shirt shop. Apparently when they first went to Hillsong, it was in the City Hall, which I took pictures of last week. I wish I could have been to that service!

Not wanting to have Toukam's birthday be completely uncelebrated, we went out to lunch at the only place that was open in what seemed like the whole city- the restaurant on the first floor of our apartment building. It's an italian place and we enjoyed the meal. The commute wasn't too bad either.

For the remainder of the day, we went to an internet cafe and then read for a couple hours. I'm proud to say that I am halfway done with Atlas Shrugged (or is it half way to go?) and I'm still feeling that it's engaging. The characters' situation just seems to become more and more desperate in their anti-profit American world. Fascinating.

I went to bed pretty early in anticipation of the 5AM wake up time that I needed to have in order to pick up Floyd (Mr. McClung) from his house and take him to a meeting and then to the airport. I managed that and was on the road, fully dressed and having had breakfast, at 5:30. Despite my judicious preplanning, though, there was something else in store for me. As I cruised out of the city on the empty pre-dawn streets, I rounded a curve and lost - but quickly regained - control of Aslan. Thinking it odd that despite the dry road and my normal speed it had done that, I continued on. However, as I drove I noticed that my car simply wasn't working right. It turned out that I had, of all things, a flat tire!

At this point in the commute I was about 10 minutes out of the city on a main highway called the M3, meaning there weren't any exits nearby. So, I had to just stop the car on the highway as far to the left (remember, it's reverse) and put on my warning lights. Obviously, I was kind of upset- my boss was counting on me to be there and take him to the airport, and now I was stranded. Thankfully, I had my US cellphone with me, and I tried to give him a call, but nobody answered. I then took advantage of what Drive Africa had included in my deal and called AA (their version of AAA) and asked someone to come help, since the jack in the car would not have gotten me out of there within any reasonable amount of time. I waited on the sidewalk for a while, in the cold dark, and hoped the AA guy would come.

The first person to come to my aid was actually a police tow truck. He pulled up and wanted to help, but I told him that I had called AA. He left and I continued my solitary vigil on the roadside. However after about 10 more minutes, I noticed something that only added to my anxieties- my car's lights were getting dimmer, and the drivers coming on the highway were having to put on their brights to see that a car was there. Worried, I rushed into the car and tried to start it- my battery was dead.

Marveling at my extraordinary misfortune, I then reduced myself to using my phone as an illuminated way to direct traffic away from the broken down vehicle. Since it was still completely dark, this had somewhat of an effect, but I still felt like an imbecile, frantically waving a Blackberry on a highway in South Africa at 6 in the morning in office clothes.

Eventually I reached Floyd and the AA truck came- they quickly changed my tire and gave me a jump for my car, and I was once again on my way, though slightly shaken. I had received directions to the publishing house where the meeting was from Floyd and I rendezvoused with him there. He understood my plight and we laughed about how I had got much more "character building" that morning than just waking up early. The meeting itself was extremely interesting. Floyd is almost complete with his 13th book and he's publishing it with a subsidiary of Random House. At the meeting they discussed everything from possible cover designs to how the royalties would work. Though only a quiet observer, I felt like just being there was really great.

I then drove with Floyd to the airport, where he departed to Taiwan for the next couple weeks. I then had the task of taking his rather large Toyota pickup back to his house. (I had left my car at the offices where the meeting took place). I eventually got back to Africa House, asked someone to pick me up from Floyd's house, and dropped the car off. At his house I finally got to meet his wife, Sally, who is a really kind person from what I could tell. Back at the office, I did a couple hours of work before getting a ride to the train station. Since I didn't want my car troubles to haunt me for the coming week, I decided to get it all done with today. The train ride was more than an hour on a definitely African train, but there were great views and it was nice to relax after such a taxing start to the day.

Upon arrival back to Cape Town proper, I walked about 20 minutes back to my car, which thankfully was still there and intact, and drove it straight to Drive Africa. They have a mechanic and he repaired my broken tire and told me that regarding the dying battery, 20 minutes of having the lights on without the engine running would actually run it empty. I was thinking that something was wrong, but apparently Toyota Corollas have tiny batteries. He assured me that it should be recharged quickly, if not already.

Driving back to the apartment, I was really thankful that I had sorted out all the car problems today. It would have been a big hassle to have to go to the mechanics later in the week and elongate the whole issue. I went grocery shopping and sat down with Atlas Shrugged, tearing through page after page as the plot grew more and more engaging. I'm about 2/3 done now, and I'm debating whether or not to take a break from it in between parts to read another book- I may just want to finish it now. However, there are still 400 pages left, and I don't want to be rushing through the end. The options I have for interim books are "Globalized Islam: The Search for a New Ummah" or "Blue Planet in Green Shackles," the book by the Czech president about crazed environmentalism. Any suggestions for this predicament, Reader?

I cooked dinner and we ended up watching "Crash," the 2005 Best Picture Award winner. I bought it before we left because it remains one of my favorite movies. It has such power in the way it was made. I highly suggest it to anyone looking for a movie to watch.

Well, that was my last two days- full of ups and downs and character-building exercises, as unintentional as they were. Cheers!

Picture Update

2009-06-07T05:08:00.000-07:00

My life in South Africa, in picture form.

This is the office at Africa House- on the left is Pat the receptionist and at the copier is Anneri

The backyard of Africa House

The pool and a glimpse of the main house

Dinner at the apartment

Be sure to read the written post I just put up- it's directly below this one. Cheers!

Property

2009-06-07T05:05:00.001-07:00

Being that all that goes up must come down and all that is deposited must be withdrawn, I started my day on Friday with a late beginning to the commute as I waited for the passport office to open. When they did,I drove over there, found a parking spot (without the help of a "parking marshall," an informal post occupied by poor men who will watch over your car for a small fee), and picked up the McClungs' (my boss' family) passports, newly endowed with permanent residency visas. Then it was off through the rain and wind to the office.

When I arrived I had already missed a call from our insurance agent. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm heading up the insurance for Africa House, and I was pleased to hear that the agent had called back. Sadly, she was already in a meeting when I called back. No matter, I had been tasked with other projects, including figuring out the best and cheapest on-site storage for the complex, as well as heading up an order of Bibles in the native languages of Zulu and Xhosa (pronounced "Kosa"). I'm quite pleased with what I've been given as work, and the feelings of purposelessness from earlier in the week have subsided. I'm finding that I am indeed integrating into the social system here and being of some help.

In the late morning, an old friend of All Nations dropped in with her older son. I was privileged to have a conversation with her about what she is doing these days. Let me enlighten you, Reader, of her amazing occupation. She is, shockingly, living in Harare, Zimbabwe, working as an intern for Farming God's Way, a nonprofit up there. She told me about how the founders of the organization were recently the most prosperous and wealthy farmers in all of Zimbabwe, but as Mugabi began his property theft campaign, they not only lost the huge amount of land that they were farming, but also ALL of their financial assets. Essentially, they went from being highly successful to having nothing, literally, because the government had decided that whites should not have property rights. Though this is obviously a great reason to curse the government and abandon Zimbabwe to its apparent fate, these men started Farming God's Way.

The organization, so I'm told, trains locals to farm in a significantly more natural way than is common. They don't do any plowing whatsoever and instead cut a plain's grass to a certain level and dig individual holes to plant seeds. When they plant them, they bury them only about one centimeter below the soil's surface which allows the sun to be more effective in their sprouting as well as decrease the amount of time it takes for the crops to sprout. Apparently this method not only speeds up the entire process of growing crops, but it also increases the harvest's yield. The reason this is such an uncommon practice is that it takes a large amount of manpower- they don't use machinery, just basic tools. This way, they can hire more people, providing more employment in tumultuous areas like Zimbabwe. Being an obviously Christian nonprofit, I think they somehow pair the agriculture training with some biblical teaching. I think it's a fantastic idea- any way of helping out the poor in a way that is sustainable and creates jobs instead of giving away money makes me happy.

Unfortunately the woman couldn't stay for long, but I really enjoyed speaking with her. She told me that she had lived in Zimbabwe back when it was still Rhodesia, which I found fascinating. Comparing then and now must be mind blowing. After finishing up the interning program, I believe she will be heading up the organization's expansion into Botswana. I hope they will continue to be successful in uplifting these countries through practical and powerful means.

As the workday came to a close, I continued my aggregation of Zanzibar-related research. Fun fact: though only about 30% of Tanzania is of the Islamic faith, 99% of the population of Zanzibar is Muslim. No wonder there is such a large movement for their independence- their demographics are so different from the mainland's. My research has been greatly improved with the use of all the insane databases that Columbia provides me access to. I used to think Google was the best way to get information, but private databases really do take the cake. As I was looking around what the school offers, I found a database of tens of thousands of letters and diary entries just from women from Britain and Ireland from 1500-1800. How crazy is that?

After dropping one of the house's construction workers off in Masephumalele, I drove back home in the continuing deluge. It was alright, though, because it was Friday! Though it was officially the weekend, I ended up going to an internet cafe after I got home to work a little for the Columbian office back in NYC, CTICE, since I'm supplementing my All Nations income ($0) with 5 hours of paid work a week. For them I'm compiling research regarding virtual business incubators that specialize in green technology. They're thinking of starting one, and rightly so- there are very few in the United States, as far as I can tell. For those who aren't familiar with the term, a business incubator has traditionally been a large office building that houses various small business startups, usually within one genre, and gives them cheap rent as well as access to entrepreneurial experts and resources to help them grow their business. In virtual business incubators, startups have access to the same resources, except they don't physically have offices in the same area, which saves a lot of costs.

For dinner, Toukam and I (successfully!) made a chicken/tomato sauce for some twirl pasta, accompanied with carrots. Toukam, it turns out, knows a little something about cooking, which is probably the reason behind the success. Since I finished Against All Enemies, I've started on the second part of Atlas Shrugged, and it's looking just as good as the first.

On Saturday morning, I woke up early-ish to continue my work for CTICE at the local internet cafe which, though not the most relaxing start to a Saturday, proved educational and productive. To be honest, the more I work for CTICE, the more I learn about all the resources available for entrepreneurial businesses which is beginning to get me thinking about starting a business just for the sake of taking advantage of them!

Toukam and I made some PB&J sandwiches and headed out for a nice walk around the city, since he hadn't really seen it since his arrival. It was a nice day to do so, with the sun showing its face for the first time in a while and the temperature being ideal. We revisited the waterfront, passed by the convention center (where we'll be going to church tomorrow) and explored the Pan African Market. At the market, we were the only customers, which made for awkward shopping as well as a confirmation that winter in Cape Town is hardly the time for hustle and bustle. I'm happy with that, since it just means less tourists and lower prices!

I'm not too sure what the plan is tomorrow, but I plan on making my Sunday relaxing. On Monday, I'll be waking up during the wee hours to drive my boss to a publisher meeting (where I think I'll be sitting in to learn about it) and then to the airport (he's flying to Taiwan for a couple weeks). Week two looks good.

In Old School Adventure news, there was a disappointing revaluation last night. Apparently, Toukam's people have him signed up until July 31! This leaves us two (2!) weeks (14 days!) to do our road trip which we were already thinking had been cut from four weeks to three. I was definitely disappointed, since this means either a significant chunk of the trip cut out or a significant increase in its pace. I'm thinking the latter, since I really want to get to Botswana. My disappointment, though, has been dulled by the new possibilities this opens up. Now I have two weeks between the ending of my internship and the ending of Toukam's. With these two weeks I'm thinking of doing a two week solo trip going north to the Namibian coast. I would have plenty of time and it would allow me to go to Namibia, which I thought was off the table after the trip got cut to 3 weeks. It would be slightly more challenging since I would be on my own, but I'm up for it and Namibia is pretty well developed. One thing's for sure- I'm not gonna sit around in Cape Town for those precious 2 weeks.

Thanks for reading all of you! I am so blessed to have so many readers and friends and family who care enough to keep up with the blog. You're the best!

The Most Dangerous Game

2009-06-05T01:11:00.000-07:00

Of the things I've learned in the past 24 hours, I would have to say that the most surprising has been the revelation that crocodile and ostrich carpaccio is delicious.

I came to this realization when Toukam and I went to a restaurant Khaya Nyama, recommended by my guide for its selection of wild African game. It was about a 10 minute walk from our apartment, and when we got there we were greeted with a nearly empty establishment with examples of African taxidermy lining the walls. We started off with a carpaccio sampler, which had the crocodile and ostrich that I mentioned already as well as springbok and another African deer-like creature. That was an interesting experience- the crocodile tasted like turkey and the ostrich looked like red meat. Next up, Toukam got warthog ribs and I got a steak from some sort of African game with a name similar to Eula or something. Both selections were amazing. My steak was incredibly lean and tender. We finished off with a super-sweet South African caramel dessert. We got all of this with drinks for about 24 dollars each, a price unheard of in the City.

Since we only have one bed, Toukam and I have instituted a policy to alternate weeks on the sofa. Because I had enjoyed the comforts of sleeping in the bed for the first couple of nights, I surrendered it to my roomy and took the sofa. Surprisingly, it's nearly just as comfortable sleeping on the sofa in a sleeping bag, at least for me. We'll see what Toukam says, but from my view, our alternation of sleeping areas isn't as much of a compromise as I thought.

Like every other morning here that I have and probably will experience, I got up early (7am), showered, avoided making eggs by instead doing toast, and drove to work. Lately it's been quite rainy, so it was another gloomy ride, though I've started to really enjoy my time listening to 101.3 FM Fine Music Radio, the classical music station that was playing when I got the car. They do a really good job mixing really old classical music with modern movie music without seeming like sellouts. Maybe I'm just going soft...

Upon arrival at work I braced myself for a day of either manual labor or spending my time figuring out what to do. However, my email inbox greeted me with a detailed email from the boss with long term and short term projects. The first was to find and purchase website domain names for his upcoming book and related projects. He actually came to the Africa House today, which was a nice surprise. Making an appreciated effort to talk, he sat me down and explained some of the email in further detailed and asked me how things are going. I worked on the domain names and, after finishing, got tasked with the job of getting building, liability, and contents insurance for the complex. I've never done something like this, but I welcome the challenge and I'm looking forward to doing my best. In the interest of full disclosure, though, I must admit that I had to look up "contents insurance" on Wikipedia, finding that it was insurance for all objects unattached to a building that could be stolen. To effectively get info on that kind of policy, I will have to make runs to other All Nations property and inventory their valuable items. It should be a diverting activity to break up next week.

I grabbed a humble peanut butter and honey sandwich (the affair continues!) for lunch and chatted with one of my coworkers, Hannah, who is a long-term volunteer at Africa House, but had worked with one of the local townships, Masipumalele, while on DTS with Youth With A Mission a couple years ago. She's an American from Washington state, and she has an energizing attitude and a lot of knowledge to share on All Nations' programs. After lunching, I poked my head in to the area where one of the teams is working and asked them about what they are doing. It turns out that the group of about 5 Americans are training a group of about 10 women from the townships how to operate t-shirt design presses and Photoshop, so that they can run a t-shirt printing factory to bring in income and create jobs. I was fascinated not only with their demonstrations of how to make a t-shirt design, but also by the ingenuity of this community development program. The creation jobs entrepreneurial endeavors jives well with my capitalist mentality.

For the remainder of my time at the office, I began preliminary work on a country-specific report for All Nations to use when expanding operations. After talking with the boss, I'm starting with Zanzibar in Tanzania. For the report, I will be summarizing basic and Christianity-related facts about areas as well as providing suggestions for what sort of physical aid we can provide, as in which services and training would best serve the community. It is bound to be an interesting and engaging endeavor, and I'm hoping it will turn out as well as I'm imagining it.

While I was quietly working in the office, I overheard and quickly joined in on a conversation originating over the case of one of the young men in the townships, but seems to be a common problem. He has become a Christian recently, and he is coming up to the age of manhood or initiation (maybe 17). His father, a member of a South African tribe, has told him that his time for initiation into manhood is coming quickly. What this is is a time when young men of his age go into the wilderness and perform rituals of ancestral worship, coming of age, and sacrifice while drinking and smoking native substances. Obviously, the ancestral spirit worship and animal sacrifices clashes with many of the basic (not Western) tenants of Christianity. However, to decline this coming of age ritual would be definite disownment by his family and some of the community. As incredibly difficult as this decision is, the young man had decided to stick to Christ and forgo the ritual. He will almost certainly pay dearly for that decision.

The people in the office were talking about the tragedy of this situation, and one of them started talking about the possibility of starting to do those initiation rituals but slightly modified. They could talk with some of the older Christian men in the communities who could conduct these rituals, but they would be changed to adhere to Christian theology. This way, there would be a difference in spirituality but not a break from the native culture. It is a problem that has followed Christians since its inception in the Middle East when the Greeks started to become Christians and wondered what role the Jewish cultural background had in the faith. If All Nations wants to pursue such a project, I really really want to be a part of it, even if I'm just shadowing at the meetings. Its a times like this that my inner anthropologist comes out.

With that intriguing conversation I left back to Cape Town, pitying the poor commuters on the other side of the highway in bumper to bumper traffic. Back at the apartment I grabbed a snack and continued reading Against All Enemies, which has grown into less of a personal history of terrorism and more into a scathing review of the failures of the Bush administration. When Toukam arrived, we cooked a dinner of steak, salad, and bread after the rice we attempted separated itself from all definitions of edibleness. It was nice, but I'm just hoping that my culinary skills improve as we do this more and more.

In the post-dinner hours I not only did my laundry but also read the final pages of Against All Enemies, and you know what that means- more Ayn Rand as I delve into part two of Atlas Shrugged! I'll be sure to tell you all about it. I hope things are pleasant on your side of the world- stay classy!

Manual

2009-06-04T00:39:00.001-07:00

A thousand apologies for not keeping my daily posting streak- I'm afraid other events, like the arrival of Toukam, managed to take precedence.

Where to begin... Tuesday. The commute, now perfected by the addition of the mountainous highway, was quite manageable and I almost got it down to half an hour. Upon arrival, I was informed that the director, Nelis, would be staying at home to take care of his ill son. Because of this unfortunate circumstance, I was placed in the charge of Annerie, the groundskeeper of Africa House.

Annerie apparently worked for or ran a restaurant in the past, and runs the Africa House with the same amount of vigor and intensity that a functioning restaurant would require. Realizing that she has an extra pair of hands and feet to utilize, I was swiftly put into use measuring the dimensions of two dilapidated showers in the boys and girls restrooms for a future renovation with tiling. Though at first a little surprised by the discrepancy between what I had imagined an internship would look like and the task brought in front of me, I proceeded to get to know the metric system in detail. After an elementary school-worthy slip-up, I presented her with the needed square meterage of tile. Up next and for the next three hours, I had a list of tasks including scrubbing cement from a plastic chair, rinsing other plastic chairs, and moving large furniture around the complex. By the minute I was asking myself and the good Lord what purpose I had there and if I would be doing this for the next seven weeks.

Salvation came in the form of Mr. Floyd McClung himself, the boss and the man I had been contacting since February. He walked into the compound and when I saw him, I quickly went up and introduced myself. Mr. McClung, it turns out, is a fascinating character from first glance. First of all, he's tall- about 3 or 4 inches taller than I am. Beyond that, he was wearing Crocs, typing texts on his iPhone, and keenly inspecting the surrounding area and the people interacting with him. His friendliness was apparent from the first sentence he spoke and after some brief small talk, he asked me if I could go get some coffee with him. Thrilled at the idea of getting to know this man, the author of more than 12 books, a visitor in more than 125 countries, and speaker at more than 100 colleges, I was also pretty happy to escape the manual labor.

We walked across the street to a shopping mall with a Pick 'n Pay and a nice cafe, where we sat down and drank some hot beverages. During the thoroughly enjoyable conversation, we discussed everything from US policy in Afghanistan to his newest book, my relatives to Sarah Palin, and world travels to world ministry. From just that short conversation, I not only realized how interesting my new boss is, but also got to talk with him about a subject that had proven to be ambiguous- my purpose at All Nations. Thankfully, he seems to want to get me on more intellectual projects and other more demanding duties. He also voiced an openness to my shadowing his daily work routine, ready to field my questions and explain how he runs such an organization. From that conversation, I'm quite sure I won't be doing manual labor the whole time I'm on this Columbia-funded internship.

Mr. McClung and I quickly grabbed sandwiches and got into his car. He ended up taking me to two of the "communities" (former townships) that All Nations is active in- Oceanside and Massapumalele. These areas are of the saddest I've seen- shacks line the streets while poor families and children meander around, passing by the gaudy walls and gates of the local drug dealer. It became clear to me that All Nations is serving some of the world's most desperate people in life-changing ways. As he drove, Mr. McClung told me about the desperation of the people, the government's attempts to help them, and the political infighting that has hindered even the most kindhearted attempts to help the people there. It was heartbreaking to see such suffering, but encouraging to know that there are so many people doing there best to help those in the community.

Though the time with Mr. McClung was enjoyable and eye-opening, all good things come to an end and I was once again dropped off at All Nations where I continued moving shelves and cabinets. I ended up leaving at about 3:30 when there was little else to do and once again got very close to a half-hour commute. It was raining, but I decided to run a couple errands anyway, in order to have the apartment ready for my roommate to arrive. For the next couple hours I continued reading my new book, which I am reading between parts 1 and 2 of Atlas Shrugged, called Against All Enemies: Inside America's War on Terror, by former CIA head guy Richard Clarke. I had read an excerpt from it in my Intro to International Politics class last semester, and found it intriguing. I'm about halfway through and I'm really enjoying it. I didn't really know about America's history in regard to terrorism before 9/11, so this book is great about informing me of how previous presidents dealt with and thought about terrorism. He's very harsh on the W Bush administration, but who isn't?

At about 6:30, Toukam finally arrived! It turned out that the ticket that his company had acquired for him included a 24 HOUR layover in Atlanta, so he was forced to find a hostel there and make himself comfortable. He apparently met a lot of really interesting people along the way, but he was definitely glad to have found his new home base. We cooked up a simple dinner with chicken and beef and more veggies from Pick 'n Pay, as well as a bottle of sparkling wine, to initiate the good times to come. After dinner, we had a great conversation- one of many to come, I am sure. We finished the night and went to bed- him on the real bed and myself on the sofa in a sleeping bag, which proved to be a lot more comfortable than it sounds or looked.

Getting up bright and early at 7, I got ready for day 3 of work and attempted, with an utterly failed result, to make eggs for breakfast. I guess you could call it a learning experience... But then I was on my way in the rainy air, back on highway M3 to the middle of the Cape Peninsula. Because of the rain, my commute was about 40 minutes, but I didn't mind. Once again, Nelis was out of the office, so I began my day perfecting my gardening to-do list. However, diversion arrived when Pat, the secretary, told me that Mr. McClung wanted to talk to me. I called him and found out that I had been charged with the task of returning his passports back to an agency in the city. I drove over there, experiencing the most frightful moment in driving thus far (I'll spare the details on the blog). I returned to the office, where I began figuring out what I could do to improve the All Nations website, partially because I want All Nations to have as good of a site as possible, and also to prevent any future international interns from having to go through the traumatic process of finding the office without any good directions online.

For the rest of the day, I did random odd jobs and began to wonder, once again, what I would be doing there for the next month and a half. I now realize that I may just have to initiate projects on my own and pursue those. If no big steps forward are made this week, I may just do that. I left the office early again because of a lack of projects as well as the passport errand that I needed to do. On the way home I also stopped by Drive Africa to obtain some final documentation to bring Aslan into other countries. With that uplifting reminder of the adventure yet to come, I made my way home. Exhausted and hungry, I started a scandalous affair with a peanut butter and honey sandwich that ended in my utter fulfillment. Coincidentally, I also found out why you don't refrigerate honey.

Those were my last couple days- filled with emotion, new people, and exciting events. Let it be known that I have hope for the coming weeks with All Nations and that I know I'm still settling in. Thank you, Reader, for your prolonged attention, and I promise to have more pictures up for you soon enough. Until then, may your strides be lengthy and your burdens light.

Commuter

2009-06-02T01:02:00.001-07:00

NOTE: I'm going to alternate posts of text and pictures because of the state of internet at work.

I woke up this morning with a concrete goal, but with no ways of attaining it. I was due to be at work at noon, and the only idea of the office's location I had was the name of a southern suburb called Noordhoek- nothing more specific. Desperate for details and not having even a phone number to clarify, I browsed over my past email correspondence. There I found a lone phone number in the automated digital signature of my boss. Thrilled with this nugget of wisdom, I thought I was in the safe zone.

After getting dressed and eating breakfast, I headed downstairs to a pay-phone to call the number. I tried several times with my phone card, but with no success. The number was either nonexistent or was not allowed for some reason, at least according to the phone card people. "No problem!" I told myself, and decided to try the call at a call center that shared space with the basement internet cafe that I mentioned yesterday. When I got there, I attempted the number again, which I realized I had not been inputting correctly because of area code issues. Thrilled at the sound of a ringing line, I anticipated the moment of my enlightenment. To my dismay, all that answered me was... a fax line. Again I found myself at square one. As a last resort, I jumped on the internet and searched on google using the phone number I had- with no results. I began to search the name of the suburb with the organization's name- nothing. I even looked at the online South African yellow pages without answer.

Finally, I began to look all around the internet for anything even relating to "All Nations." What I came across was the blog of one of their employees that had a link to a website I had not seen or heard about- the All Nations website for South Africa. In it, there was an address in South Africa right near the suburb I had heard about. Oh, the joy! I felt like a regular Hardy Boy after such a detective-worthy quest. I wrote down the appropriate directions after looking it up on google maps and went on my way after posting yesterday's blog post. I now had a way of achieving my goal! I spent the rest of the morning getting a couple more groceries and going to an ATM before strapping myself into Aslan and making my way down the 8 levels of the parking garage and into the hectic streets below. Though my wipers did go on a couple times accidently, I successfully managed to get onto a main road and onto the highway without trouble.

The drive was pretty successful, though slow at times. At one point I found myself in the midst of construction, which delayed me, but for the most part I was pleased with the scenic nature of the commute. When I finally got to the online address (an hour later), I knocked on the door and was met by a curiousity-filled face and not an office in sight.

Not wanting to assume the worst when it may not be, in fact, the worst, I asked "Is this the Africa House (the name of the complex with the offices)?" The answer was no. But not all hope was lost! The place where I had a arrived was the guest house, and the real thing was only a short drive away. The resident, a kindly South African woman, gave me detailed instructions on how to get there and even called my boss to let him know that I was on my way. It really wasn't a long drive, and it was back towards the city, which made me feel better about my coming commutes. I followed the directions as best I could and finally ended up at the Africa House! It was a glorious moment.

I got out of my car and faced the large house, painted a bright yellow, with a large matching yellow wall. I pressed the button labeled "Office" and someone buzzed me through the gate. Seeing them through the window, I walked into the office and seeing that they didn't really have any idea of who I was, introduced myself as Derek Turner, their new intern. Though they responded politely, it wasn't as if they had really been expecting or awaiting my arrival. The man operating the office (not the same as the person I've been contacting) mentioned that he had just talked to my boss, who told him to show me around. Once he finished what he was working on, he introduced himself and began giving me a small tour around the grounds. As we chatted, it became clear that he had no idea whatsoever what I was there to do or what he wanted me to do. It was actually quite comical to have made this immense journey, full of unknowns and struggles, and arrive to people who seemed slightly surprised at my arrival and not having figured out my purpose.

Though it was surprising to be met with such a reception, I was just happy to have arrived there safely, and we began to sort some things out. For the short term, the director (I'm afraid I can't remember his name just yet) thought I could draw up some weekly checklists that people volunteering at the complex could use when doing chores. Among them was the gardener's duties, so I spent the next two hours surveying the land and figuring out how to organize the weekly tending of the plants as well as specific areas to pay special attention to. I made a map of the complex separating it into sectors and numbered them corresponding to a checklist. The director seemed happy with the final result, so I guess I successfully completed my first internly duty? To be honest, I quickly became just as confused about my purpose there as they were. For tomorrow, I'll continue with whatever tasks they can think of, but I think I'm going to take them up on the offer to "look for something I can run with" and work on that. I may or may not have my eyes set on their website...

For the time I was at the office, the boss did not arrive, since he apparently works from home. From what I could gather, he's the "big picture" guy who does most of the traveling and more conceptual stuff. Hopefully I'll be able to work with him a lot. I ended up calling him this afternoon after I got back and he says he'll be in tomorrow morning. Perhaps he will bring more clarity to the situation. Overall, though, it seems like a nice place to work- definitely not boring. I guess I just need to determine my main goals and run with them, since they won't be given to me on a silver platter. I want to make a difference in this organization, and I guess it's up to me how I do that. However, I still can't get over how hilarious this whole situation is.

After consulting with my new coworkers, I found out a quicker way to get to work which goes over a mountain instead of around it. Though it involves more elevation change, my way back was significantly easier and faster. I managed to get from door to door in 45 minutes flat. I guess I was right about the traffic- the whole time I barely had any while the other side of the road was crawling at some points. At the end, though, I exited too early and had to rely on my internal sense of direction and memories from walking around to get back to the apartment through overwhelming traffic. The amount of double parking that goes on here is astounding.

The important thing about this story is that I got back alive and well. It was probably one of the craziest and weirdest first days of work I've had, but it was fun and challenging. I'm sure the best is yet to come, and you'll be sure to hear about it. Thank you, Reader, for your attention, and I wish I could have you in my passenger seat as I cruise along a South African mountainside at 100 km/h listening to Cape Town radio- it's quite an experience.

Rolling Stone

2009-06-01T01:19:00.000-07:00

I write to you as a man with a home. It turns out that my nervousness about moving into the apartment was unfounded, since all I had to do was drive to the building (a task that was not without its driving foibles) and tell the doorman that I was moving into number 902. The keys appeared and I began to get acquainted with my new home.

The first thing that struck me was the security of the building. To get in, you have to pass a doorman who's there 24/7. Once you manage to get into the elevator, you have to use a special key that allows you access to only your floor- in my case floor 9. Once there, you are faced with a large steel door which requires yet another key. After getting through that one, you proceed to your door, which is of course has a key lock. On top of all that, there are key locks on all the doors to the patio (yes, we have a patio), and even between the main living room/kitchen and the bedroom! Access to the garage (which you can get to from each floor) has a long code to input, and all the stairwell exits are exit only (I learned this the hard way, trying to get up a floor and having to walk to the bottom). If I had any worries about my security, they would have evaporated by now.

The apartment itself is really fantastic. It's on the top floor of the building, which is literally on one of the main cultural squares- Greenmarket Square. From the patio, you can see all that is going on as well as a beautiful view of Table Mountain. There's air conditioning in all the rooms, as well as on the patio, a full kitchen with a big fridge, dishwasher, and stove as well as TV with a comfy couch. It's pretty well stocked, with a french press coffee maker, an ironing board and iron, and cutlery, etc. I can't imagine how much a place like this would cost in New York City, but I know it would be too much to afford until I got pretty far career-wise. Here, though, it only costs 750 Rand a week, which translates to less than 100 dollars a week. How insane is that? And since I'm splitting it with Toukam, my budget will be able to breath easy. My sincere gratitude goes out to the people who found this for Toukam. The only complaint I have is that there is no internet access in the apartment, so I'll either continue going to internet cafes (there's a really cheap one nearby), start going to work early/stay late to use their internet, or maybe even get internet here for the time we're staying. I guess we'll figure all that out this week.

As for the building itself, there's a pool on the roof (unheated, I think) as well as a gym (which I can't figure out how to get into). I'm really pumped to be living here, and I'm sure Toukam will be too. The location could not be better- there's a bunch of great restaurants right next to us, an outdoor African Market in the square, and a lot of great people. What a blessing this place has turned out to be!

I got a nice feeling for the apartment, but started to feel a little hungry, so I headed out once again to try and grab some groceries. Unfortunately, my hunger got the best of me and I stopped by a cafe for a chocolate croissant, and they pointed me in the direction of the supermarket, called "Pick 'n Pay". Although almost every store in this town seems to be closed on Sundays, this one was open, and I began to stock up for the week and the summer. Roaming the shelves, I picked up everything from sugar and flour to chutney and apples. The rumors were true- food is CHEAP here! I can't remember any specific figures, but all of my groceries for this week as well as all the essentials for the summer was less than 75 bucks. I ended up taking two trips, since there is only so much I can carry by myself. On the second run, I tried to get a couple bottles of South African wine to have for when Toukam arrived to start getting used to this region's wines before we head to the wine-country, but I found out the hard way that South African law forbids the sale of alcohol on Sundays. After the cashier scanned the bottles, the manager came rushing up and started chastising the poor woman for ringing them up, and even went to far as making a loud PA announcement reminding the other cashiers that alcohol is not sold on Sundays. I felt really bad for the cashier, but she was laughing about it by the end. I guess I'll hold off my "Pinotage" (the unique South African type of wine) purchases until tomorrow. Lesson learned!

After all these exciting produce-related venturings, I had built up an appetite. Now empowered with foodstuffs in my kitchen, I decided to meet the challenge of cooking head-on and started making grilled cheese sandwiches with an apple on the side. The meal turned out pretty well, with the bread not burnt but the cheese melted- hopefully a sign of successful culinary pursuits to come. Having been filled with the work of my hands, I left the building in search of a phone card and other things. I had wanted to go to the internet cafe I had been at yesterday but, surprise, it was closed. Thinking that I would be without access to email and blogging, I resigned myself to a disconnected day. Not so! I passed by an African trading store with an internet cafe inside. Going inside, I found the cafe in the back of the store's basement, in a room that had white tarps covering the walls. Interested more in the price of the internet ($1/hr) more than the aesthetic, reconnected there. The symphony of Kenyan voices only added to the experience.

Next up I took to the deserted streets of Cape Town in search of a phone card. I walked all the way to a gas station I had seen, but they didn't sell them. As I dejectedly walked back home, I took another shot in a ministore, and they had them! With the card, I think I can get about 10 cents a minute to the US- not too bad. I also looked for a power converter (oddly, South Africa has a unique plug that doesn't work with my travel pack if converters) but to no avail. I'll try tomorrow morning when more than one shop per block is open. Once I got back to the apartment, I began my domestic duties by ironing a bunch of the shirts I will be wearing to work this week. I gave ironing a nice old college try, but I just could not get them perfectly wrinkle-free! I did my best, and I'm hoping I will improve my form over the coming months.

My appetite being aroused after such manual labor, I began pondering what to make for dinner. I settled on a microwaved bag of assorted veggies and chicken breasts with chutney. The veggies were really great and fresh, and after sauteing the chicken with a little olive oil, I had a surprisingly nice meal in front of me. Tough simple, I hope that the success of this meal will lead to more complicated and more delicious meals once I get recipes and things. I enjoyed the meal, did the dishes, and went to use my phone card. It worked well at a payphone nearby, and it was nice to call home and hear the voices I'm so far away from. It would have been nice to have done that with Skype from inside the apartment, but what's the use in whining?

Tomorrow is my first day of work, starting at noon. I'm really excited both for the new experiences I will have and all that, but also to have something significant to be working my days around. Things actually get stressful when your main goal for the day is to find an internet cafe or phone card, which is silly- now I can put my energy towards something meaningful. I think I have a good feel for the route I'll take to the suburb where the office is, Noordhoek, but after that, I'm at a loss. You see, I have not been given either an address or phone number for the office here in South Africa. My email corrospondance has been silent on the issue, and their website only has their American information, which couldn't help me today because it's Sunday and won't help me in time for work tomorrow because of the time difference. So, unless there's an email from my employers in my inbox tomorrow morning, I'll drive down there and do my darndest to find the office through less conventional means. Who's up for an adventure?

Also, Toukam arrives tomorrow evening, which should be fun. It will be interesting to see how our experiences here differ- his being a paid intern at a consulting firm and my being an unpaid commuting intern at a nonprofit. Good times are to come, I am sure, and all the while our road trip into Africa shines on the horizon keeping us moving. Onwards and upwards!

Training Wheels

2009-05-31T04:59:00.001-07:00

Today, I took a significant step towards conquering my greatest South African fear: driving.

My discipline in waking up at early hours proved to be improving when I only arose from my warm bed half an hour after my 7:30AM alarm. Of course, I was assisted by the rather loud packing by the people in my room headed off for their Kenya-bound Acacia Tour bus. Apparently I was awarded for my early rising with satisfactorily hot water in the shower. Before hopping into my car (I think I may take KT's suggestion of "Aslan" for the name, but I'm still open to suggestions) I checked out of my dorm room so that I could transfer to my $40 a night single later in the afternoon.

To get the car moving, it requires a process. First, I return the radio's faceplate to it's proper location, then I remove the lock that keeps the gearshift in reverse, and finally I take off the big "club" lock around the steering wheel. Usually I would be frustrated by such a slowing of what would otherwise be a split-second process, but considering the consequences of a stolen vehicle to my summer plans, I prefer to be on the cusp of paranoia. Once the process was completed, I started her up and started off toward Table Mountain. I had decided for the sake of a gradual exposure to Cape Town roads, I would not only make the attempt on a Saturday morning, but also take a coastal road that I had taken on the sightseeing bus yesterday. This proved to be a wise choice- I got to focus on the methods of driving rather than worrying about directions. Of all the differences that come with driving on the left, I have to say that the one that has proven to be hardest to overcome is not the opposite positioning of the steering wheel or the gearshift, but rather the turn signal! It's on the right side of the steering wheel and up is for a left signal. What ends up happening is that I will be wanting to put on a left turn signal, and end up with my window wipers going full steam ahead and no blinker engaged whatsoever. Though when it happens I don't have the presence of mind to see the humor, I do laugh at myself after.

I'll probably spend part of tomorrow figuring out exactly which route I will be taking to work, since it's a relatively long and complicated commute (40 min, or so they tell me). Once I get the hang of it, though, I'm sure I'll find some pleasure in it. Until then, practice practice practice!

After allowing my blood pressure to return to normal, I left the hostel on foot, unsure of what exactly I wanted to see and do for the day. To help myself make that decision, I took refuge in a coffeehouse I had spotted yesterday called Sundance Coffee. Its slogan, "Coffee that will make you want to dance," had caught my eye, and I couldn't resist. It was pretty empty when I got there, but I had the greatest chocolate muffin and large cappuccino that I've had for a while, and I came to some conclusions about my day's activities. I decided to walk towards the Castle of Good Hope, Cape Town's only castle and oldest surviving building. They say "castle," but it's really more of a fort, but whatever. On the way there, I stopped at an internet cafe to upload yesterday's blog (hence the slight delay) and deliberately passed by one of the Cape's most beautiful buildings- the City Hall.

This building, though I don't know the dates that it was built, stands next to a huge open space, called the parade, and also is home to the balcony from which Nelson Mandela gave his inaugural address. As you can tell from the picture, it's quite impressive and very distinguished. I'm not sure if you can tour it, but I'll check- maybe for a weekend activity or something. To get to the castle I had to walk through the big plaza, in which the locals were having a huge market selling everything from clothes to food to toys. It was refreshing to walk through a place devoid of tourists (or at least from what I could tell).

When I got to the castle, I not only got a student discount for more than half off, but I also was just in time for the tour! Actually, it was more like the tour was just in time for me, since I was the only person on it. Luckily for me, all the tourists seem to have either already come in the summer or came later, because it ended up just being me and Stephen, the guide, walking around the compound for about an hour. He was a knowledgeable guide, despite his strong accent, and I enjoyed the tour immensely. I felt kind of bad having made him do the tour for just one person, so I tried to tip generously.

The exterior of the castle

The Governor's Mansion within the castle

Fountain

After I finished the official tour, I spent some time exploring the rest of the area, including the four points in the star-shaped outer wall. Being that there were very few tourists, it was a nice and relaxing experience. Next up, I explored the military museum that is a part of the castle which showcased the various amazing uniforms that officers in Cape Town have worn over the centuries. I thought it was really interesting how the various cultures of the area have had an impact on the military here, like a dress uniform topped off with a whole leopard skin draped across it. On the top floor, they had an exhibit dedicated to the Anglo-Boer War in the late 1800's. Apparently, a bunch of white settlers tried to break off of Cape Town and start their own nation, severing their ties with the British Empire, which was ruling the area at the time. Unsurprisingly, the British didn't like that and fought them into submission. Apparently, however, the British lost more people than the Boers, probably because of the Boers' use of guerrilla warfare. Ironically, I was sharing the museum with a group of South African army people.

I took a quick look around a small exhibit of period rooms and then surrendered to my hunger at the castle's restaurant, where I got a large lunch with a drink for about 6 bucks. As I was finishing, I noticed a group of about 30 South African army men and women arrive in the main area in the castle, and they started to do something I would never expect a military unit to do: they started dancing in a big circle, singing a traditional African at the top of their lungs, harmonizing and everything! It was such a pleasant and joyful sound and an amazing sight to see. To my surprise and pleasure, I saw more and more groups of military people arriving (not all singing and dancing), carrying flags and weapons. I asked around, and found out that there was a practice for the parade to open parliament today! Not having a tight schedule and not wanting to miss this elegant show of South African military might, I went back up the roof and watched the square fill up with more and more troops of varying type while reading even more of "Atlas Shrugged".

The singing soldiers

After about 40 minutes or so, it looked like the groups were getting ready to march out into the city, so I headed back down and chatted with Stephen (the tour guide from before) and waited for them to depart. Hilariously, the parade started off with the Cape Town bagpipe corps:

I watched a bunch of the groupings head out, and eventually I started walking with one of them, after I realized that they were probably walking to Parliament, my next stop. As I walked next to one of the military bands (quite entertaining) along the closed streets of Cape Town, I noticed the groups of people who had stopped what they were doing to watch this practice. It was encouraging to see the patriotism and gratitude on the faces of the people watching. At one point, there was a younger boy pretending to march beside them. After all that these people have been through, they have a right to be proud of their current government.

Though I enjoyed seeing the final result of all the soldiers lining up along the entire street with only a 4 foot gap between each of them, I decided to move on. I glanced at the parliament, since it was all closed with nobody in it (it's Saturday), I walked up Church Street, which was similarly deserted. I guess Saturdays in the winter are not the happening days here in Cape Town. Oh well, that'll just make for less traffic for Toukam's and my tours on the weekends.

Upon my return to Backpackers, I got checked into my single room, which is so luxurious compared to the 8 person room I've been in for the last two nights. It may not have a bathroom or heating, but it's nice to spread out and have good lighting. It's a short stay, though, since I plan on moving in to the apartment tomorrow sometime. I took a quick nap and charged up my laptop and iPod before heading over to the bar, where I had a great conversation with the girl from Harvard as well as two other women from the University of Minnesota who are here on a fellowship. It's funny how many people are here for internships or fellowships- a much different situation from Europe last year. All three of them are doing public policy stuff, which I found pretty interesting. For dinner, I got lazy and once again ate at the bar here, but it was really good and cheap as usual. I justified it by saying that I'll be going out to restaurants enough when Toukam arrives. Continuing my conversation with the others, I was actually distracted by a sports game on TV! Those of you who know me, you know that nothing disinterests me more than sports. However, for some reason rugby is actually interesting to watch- probably because each play lasts for almost a minute and it's full of passing, kicking, tackling, and dogpiling that leaves no room for a dull moment. Apparently there's a rugby championship going on in SA right now, and I think Pretoria just won it tonight.

I retired back to my room after talking a little more with the Harvard student and watching some National Geographic programming on deadly jellyfish. Tomorrow could either be a great or stressful day- I'm hoping that everything will be quick and painless regarding the apartment, but I can imagine it turning into a desperate search for the person in charge and my being without lodging. I'm praying it will be the former situation.

Well, perhaps my next post will come to you from the comfort of our new apartment! Thanks for reading!

Intrepid Tourism

2009-05-30T01:22:00.000-07:00

As my first full day in Cape Town comes to a close, I can safely say that I now have a decent understanding of this town's layout. It's been a great day, and I think it's a great start to my long stay here.

Last night, I hung out at the hostel bar, which interestingly enough serves up a great chicken burger and ate with two American girls, who are both here for internships as well. One is going to the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard and the other is finishing up a child development degree at the University of Alabama. It was nice to talk with them, and I found out about a program that they and a bunch of other college age Americans are a part of- Connect 123. Apparently it's a service that you pay to connect you with an internship, accommodations, and even special activities abroad. By the looks of the hostel, it's a popular program, and everyone seems to be very excited about starting their new jobs in the coming week. I think it's pretty rad that a company does that, but my qualms arise when I look at the charges that they have. I looked at a similar company, University of Dreams, back in winter and they were charging obscene amounts for the same privilege. I hope it was cheaper for my new friends.

Later that night I fought to stay awake despite my jet-lag to read Atlas Shrugged and accustom myself to the new time zone. Surprisingly, I'm 300 pages in and its still a riveting story- its paced wonderfully. As I was reading, some of my roomates arrived back, one of whom, upon further conversation, turned out to not only have grown up in Scottsdale, but went to Saguaro, my rival high school! This is particularly funny because the last Arizona resident I ran into abroad also had gone to Saguaro. We talked for a bit about how Phoenix has changed (he graduated in 1990) and about his current fellowship in Zambia. Amazingly, he hitchhiked down to Cape Town from there! It took him a week, but he did it. That, I think, is amazing. Due to time constraints, though, he's flying back to Zambia. I guess you can't always be an adventurer both ways. The other people in the room were either Australians or Brits, and most of them are heading back soon.

My alarm went off at 8, but I apparently didn't have the constitution to wake up before 9, and I was out the door by 9:30. I didn't really have a specific place in mind- I just wanted to get to know my home for the next two months. The hostel I'm staying at is about a 10 minute walk from the city center and about 10 minutes from the shore. I found it to be a pleasant walk, going through African markets, observing drivers for future reference, and taking in this highly diverse population. There are so many types of people here that it's rarely boring to people-watch. I ended up at the V&A Waterfront, a newly renovated hub of residential and commercial growth. There you can find a lot of fancy yachts, expensive waterfront properties, and a big mall with both South African and international brands. Just by walking there, I learned a lot about the layout of the city as well as how people drive (you can tell I'm spending a lot of time thinking about this driving thing). I was trying to find a cafe I read about in one of my guides, Societi Bistro, but it had apparently moved, so I settled with getting brunch at another cafe at the waterfront. It was a little pricey, but quite good. I got a big breakfast with two eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, and veggies as well as an iced tea for about 11 dollars. That may sound cheap already to you, but let me say that South Africa and Cape Town are known for their ridiculously cheap food. I'm sure once I weed out the touristy parts of town, I'll find the genuine and inexpensive places. Despite the price, though, I enjoyed the break from walking and the food.

Next up, I headed to the Two Oceans Aquarium, which my book had highly recommended. However before I got there, I passed by a kiosk for one of those big red Sightseeing Bus Tours, and I became curious. When the bus actually pulled into the stop just then, I made a split-second decision to do something obscenely touristy and take one of those buses. As it turns out and as I suspected, the bus tour gave me a view of the city that is hard to beat. We started out touring around just Cape Town the city, seeing all of the historical and culture landmarks that I am sure to visit again soon. We then continued on beyond the city and up the side of Table Mountain, by far the most defining landmark in Cape Town. Though we didn't make it to the top but rather only to the lower station for the cable car, I got a glimpse at a beautiful view of the whole city basin that I know will only improve when I take the cable car up to the top of the 3,500ft beast of a mountain. Then it was off even farther from the town into suburbs on the other side of the mountains.

Immediately upon making it to the top of the pass, I could tell that this other side would be just as beautiful, if not more gorgeous, than the first. As strong winds blow over Table Mountain, they make their way down the slopes into these suburbs, making for rough waters and cold days. Despite that, though, there is great wildlife, pristine beaches, and luxurious housing. I was so taken with the beauty of this beachfront area that I decided to take advantage of the "hop on hop off" feature of the bus and walk around the area for about half an hour. I got some great beachfront pictures as well as many invitations by street vendors to buy their chess tables and scarves.

Parliament, the view from Table Mountain, and Camps Bay:

Upon stepping on the bus for a second time, we continued along the coast back up to Cape Town, passing even more amazing beaches, more expensive (because of their being in "wind-free" areas) and even the yet to be completed Cape Town stadium for the 2010 FIFA world cup, which is being held in this country. I got dropped off back in front of the aquarium, more than happy with the value I got for the ticket. I was now empowered with the knowledge of the layout of this fine city and its surrounding areas. As an added bonus, the bus company gave me a coupon with a discount for the aquarium, which I then proceeded to visit.

I was quite happy with the aquarium from the onset. Though it was mainly geared towards children, I found their presentation of the marine life to be really interesting. In one of the tanks, a moray eel had completely come out of the coral, something I hadn't seen before. They had every type of water creature, and I liked observing each of them. Today also just happened to be the day in which they were releasing one of their large sting rays back into the tank. As one of the staff commentated on the process, I enjoyed seeing the divers expertly lower the animal back into its artificial habitat. The same cage had a bunch of sharks, which had an exhibit of their own telling of the fact that humans are killed by faulty toasters more often than sharks. I thought it was quite interesting to see such a large campaign for the sake of improving sharks' reputation. In addition to all the marine life, they also had an exhibit with South African penguins which, though smelly, was a good time. The rest about the aquarium will have to be said in pictures:

After I got my fill of marine creatures, I made my way back to the hostel, as it was about 4:30pm already. It was a pleasant walk, and I used part of it attempting to find the apartment building that Toukam and I will be moving into. Though at the time I didn't consider it a successful search, I have since rechecked the email and I'm pretty certain I know where it is. Sunday can't come soon enough- I'm looking forward to setting up my home base.

I got back to the hostel, where I spent my time meeting some of my new roommates, including young woman from Scotland, here for one of the most amazing trips I've heard of! It's with a company called Acacia Tours, and it consists of 45 days of driving in a big, modern bus with 15 other people from Cape Town to Nairobi, Kenya, camping all along the way and having a chef cook for you. It sounds AMAZING- I think I may have found the way I want to see other parts of Africa. Apparently, it costs only 3,000 dollars for the 45 days, but I talked to another girl who had been on a similar trip with another company for 70 days, which also included Uganda and Rwanda. Still, I'm pleased with our own planned "Old School Adventure" and the unorganized, novel, and do-it-yourself aspects of it.

For dinner, I hung out at the hostel bar with the two Americans I had met the night before and a couple of their friends- another American from Nebraska (doing the same internship program) and a British guy who is staying at the hostel. It was a pleasant time, even with my taking (and eating) another person's dinner order. They invited me to go out to a club/bar with them for the evening, but I politely declined, considering my lack of enjoying such outings. I prefer a mellow hang out at dinner or a quiet bar any day.

I think for tomorrow I'll try waking up early and taking the car for a spin, since I think a Saturday morning might be a little easier on the nerves in regard to traffic. Until then, keep it real, Readers!

China

2009-05-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

And just like that, I find myself once again overseas and in the familiar surroundings of a youth hostel.

Despite the many differences between my two-month stint in Europe last year and the slightly slower-paced twist to this summer's stay in Africa, I feel like I'm moving into the same mindset. For those of you who haven't travelled alone or stayed in hostels, I'm afraid this feeling may not be familiar to you until you actually do it. When one is a solo traveler, he must be both introspective and ready to communicate with strangers. He must resist the temptation to shut down in panic when things are not looking up or playing out how he would like. He must make a decision about every aspect of his life- no delegation, no shirking responsibility. It is a truly unique frame of mind. I must say I am happy to be in it once again, but excited to see how it changes once Toukam arrives and I don't live from my suitcase.

The last 36ish hours have been pretty tiring, though thankfully not chaotic. I left the Crossmans at about 8AM on Wednesday, catching a subway to Penn Station, transferring to a Long Island Rail Road train to JFK, and made my way to South African Airlines. The first bit of news I got was disheartening- for the 14 hour flight, I was booked for a middle seat. Obviously, my long legs were not exactly enthused at that prospect. Anyways, I checked my big piece of luggage (just barely under the weight limit) and made my way through security. When I arrived at the gate, I put on my best manners and politely asked the person behind the counter if there was any way I could get an aisle- to which she replied that she would hold on to my boarding pass and see if anyone wouldn't show up. In a great sign of potential for the trip, I ended up being given an aisle! To really add a cherry to the top of the situational sundae, I found that SAA planes have generous amounts of legroom- my knees didn't even touch the person in front of me! Oh, the ecstasy.

The flight took off a little late after waiting on the tarmac for an hour, but it didn't really affect our arrival time. Though the ride was smooth and the chair comfortable, I found it nearly impossible to sleep. As an indication of my increasingly desperate boredom, I began to allow myself to watch films of decreasing quality. I started off with Slumdog Millionaire, which I found quite good and well done, digressed to Benjamin Button which, though entertaining, was not exceptional in its quality, and finally found myself in a pit of desperation watching Jim Carrey's Yes Man. Mercifully, it froze midway through, preventing me from rotting my mind any further.

Besides those THREE movies, I listened to a lot of music and made more headway into Atlas Shrugged. The plot is really quickening up, and I find it even more enjoyable and even more capitalist. Other than those activities, I ate the decent food provided by the airline and contemplated my coming fate, despite the clocklike intervals of a baby's piercing screams.

Upon arrival to Johannesburg, called "JoBurg" by the locals, we deplaned after a brief delay and I managed to get through customs without any suspicious looks or interrogations. The only unfortunate thing is that according to my visa stamp, I have to try my best to refrain from becoming an "undesirable," lest I lose the favor of this great republic. Because of the layover being the first port of entry in to SA, I had to collect my checked bag (they arrived!) and go through security again for the domestic terminal. Everything went swimmingly on that front and I boarded the plane to Cape Town. I sat down in my seat and the results of my lack of sleeping on the first flight took hold of me until I was awoken by a young South African woman politely asking to get into the seat next to me. We ended up chatting for a bit, and I learned a lot about South African life and culture from Sarah (I hope I remembered her name right!). She's taking a brief trip to Cape Town before starting a job at Seventeen- really interesting, I thought. It was nice to get to know a South African, and I look forward to meeting many more.

I arrived in Cape Town at about 2PM today (Thursday) and was pleased to find a man holding a sign with my name on it waiting for me outside baggage claim. It was Alex, the head of Drive Africa, picking me up to take me to my new car. I felt so important having someone waiting with my name on a sign in a South African airport, though it was a short-lived feeling of self importance. We had a very nice conversation in the car on the way to Drive Africa, in which we talked about starting businesses in SA as well as the history of Drive Africa. It turns out that Alex has been doing buybacks for more than 10 years. We got the office and proceeded to go through oodles of paperwork to purchase my first car! It's a glorious white Toyota Corolla:

To my grateful surprise, the car came with not one but two locks beyond the door locks- one to secure the steering wheel as well as one to keep the gearshift in reverse to prevent theft. The car seems to be in great shape, well maintained, and everything I want. I'm trying to think of a name for it, since I'll be spending so much time driving it. Perhaps Rocinante? Or some other literary reference? Readers, feel free to offer suggestions.

Next came perhaps the most stressful part of my travels thus far- driving the car to my hostel. Let me tell you- driving on the left side of the road is so disorienting at first. Alex was kind enough to guide me to the hostel in his car, but it was still hard to shift with my left hand, steer with my right, and maneuver around Cape Town. I think I'm going to do some thorough map-studying before I venture out again. We both made it safely to Backpackers, the hostel here, and I've checked myself in and started to get my bearings. It turns out that the apartment will be ready on Sunday, so I shaved off a $40 stay here and I'll be moving in then. Apparently, the apartment is in the dead center of the city with good furnishings, security, and parking! I'm hoping that it isn't too good to be true.

For tonight, I plan on grabbing dinner either at the hostel's bar or nearby and reading guidebooks before turning in. I am exhausted and I want to be ready for a day of exploration tomorrow. Thanks again for following my adventures!

A Deep Breath

2009-05-26T08:07:00.000-07:00

On this, the eve of my departure to the southern hemisphere, I do believe reality has yet to knock on my consciousness. I may be packing, doing laundry, and reserving hostels, but in my mind it hasn't really clicked in that at 11AM tomorrow, I will be on South African Airlines flight SA204 to Johannesburg. The realization will come, though, and until that point I will continue chugging along with my preparations.

This weekend provided a wonderful distraction from African planning in the form of my friend Austin coming from Phoenix to visit. After many failed attempts to get on flights standby, he finally got on the red-eye on Friday night. I met him in Penn Station on Saturday morning and began a foot-breaking tour of the city with him. Starting off in Battery Park (the southernmost point of Manhattan), we walked all the way to 59th St and 5th Ave, seeing all the sights along the way. On that first day, during the 12 mile trek, we saw everything from Wall St. to Ground Zero, the Empire State Building to the Brooklyn Bridge, and Saks Fifth to NYU. Though our legs were perhaps less appreciative than our eyes, I enjoyed it immensely but have come to realize that walking a dozen miles and seeing almost all of NY's tourist destinations may not be my standard first day for guests. As the map suggests, the second and third days were a little more limited due to aching knees and feet. Overall, a fantastic weekend with great sightseeing, better food, and the best company.

Austin left yesterday afternoon, and since then I have been spending time with my hosts here in the city, the Crossmans. They are really generous and hospitable people, and always a blast to hang around with. I got to take part in the Making of the Rissoto last night for dinner- a long process that proves to be entirely worthwhile upon consumption of the rice dish. We kept our eye on the sunset after dinner while all reading our current literary pursuits. I finished reading Steinbeck's The Winter of Our Discontent, yet another very enjoyable work by my favorite author from the second millennium, though not as fantastic as The Grapes of Wrath or even East of Eden. This one did earn him the Nobel Prize in literature, so it can't be that bad. Upon finishing it I decided, upon consultation with Mr. Crossman, to begin Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged and hold off on The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky. I'm 80 pages into the 1200 page monster and I find it enjoyable and thought-provoking. It seems to me that I will be having many a conversation with Toukam about what place Rand's principles have in a Christian life. Considering the summer ahead, I think we may get pretty far in that discussion.

I mentioned in my last post that we were having logistical difficulties with our apartment, and since then some more information has come to light. Because of the short amount of time before my arrival and the difficulties of trying to rent an apartment in the last week of a month, the people with whom Toukam is working have said that they will have the apartment ready on Monday. Being that I am arriving in Cape Town on Thursday afternoon, I found myself in need of lodging. This morning, I put my Cape Town and South Africa guides to good use and found a place to stay for the four nights. Though not the cheapest option, I found that The Backpack Hostel and African Travel Center fit the bill- it has parking, it's within walking distance of the city center, and it isn't expensive. For the first two nights, I'll be paying $10 a night for a dormitory style room with 8 beds- hearkening back to my European travel days. Then, for the second two nights, due to a lack of vacancies in the dorm room, I'm going to be in a single room (oh, the luxury!) for about 40 dollars a night. This hostel was about the fourth one I called, and I'm just happy that they had room for me. I'm expecting those four days to be used to orient myself in Cape Town, get some preliminary supplies, and recover from potential jet lag.

For today, I'm going to be doing a mongo-load of laundry, carefully choosing what to bring and what to leave behind, and saying my sweet goodbyes to this city, this country, and this hemisphere.

MY FLIGHT PLAN

I expect my dispatch will be from the Mother City. Until then, all the best!

Genesis

2009-05-22T15:38:00.000-07:00

Like all good adventures, this one started out as nothing but a vague daydream. I can actually pinpoint exactly when the concept of driving around the unknown swaths of African countryside made its presence known in my mind. It was in February, while I was at my job as an intern with Columbia's Center for Technology, Innovation, and Community Engagement (CTICE). While plugging away at some piece of internly work, one of my coworkers enquired about what I wanted to do for the summer. As I explained to her that I was in the process of applying for a grant and was looking for a potential overseas internship, another coworker who had lived in South Africa happened to walk in when I mentioned that I was looking into jobs from London to Cape Town. He took this opportunity to mention the innumerable attributes of South Africa that make it absolutely amazing.

However, his next comment proved to be one that planted the seed of my present dream. He said that if I were to end up in South Africa, I would have t0 borrow his book on road trips in SA and that driving is very possible because one could procure a car for "less than a thousand dollars." The damage was done.

Admittedly, I may have been a little less productive than normal that day at work because inside my head this dream had been born and was growing at an exponential rate. "A road trip? In Africa?!" The concept, so bold at first glance, was too attractive to ignore. "What if it's possible? What if, this summer, I could find myself behind the wheel of an old Land Rover, wearing a khaki suit complete with wide-brimmed hat, courageously pushing back the bush and exploring pristine lands?" I tried to temper my excitement, in order to protect myself from exploded hopes or pains of dreams unrealized. However, through a blessed series of events over the course of the next two months, I was generously offered an internship with All Nations, a Christian nonprofit based in Cape Town that focuses on church planting and humanitarian educational programs. Having been given the position, I applied for the grant and after a gracious chance to submit a revised draft, was given the money I needed to go! I was bounding towards achieving the dream.

The next piece of blessed news came from my friend Toukam Ngoufanke, a friend that I met in Intervarsity Christian Fellowship at Columbia. He was a graduating senior from the engineering school, a native Cameroonian, and the posses or of a sharp mind and he was going to be interning in Cape Town as well! It was the greatest of news, and I began to lobby for him to get excited about the post-internship road trip that had, by then, taken up permanent residence in my mind. Startlingly, Toukam became almost as excited as I was upon my invitation! I have to admit- I was prepared to be met with an utter lack of enthusiasm. Imagine my joy when I suddenly had a partner in crime.

TOUKAM AND I

This all happened by about mid April. Since then, the practicalities have set in, the logistical planning has begun, and the realities are staring us in the face- and the dream is stronger than ever. Slowly but surely we have seen obstacles come and go, problems arise and be solved. One of the largest was the question of getting a car. Originally we had planned only to get a car for the three or four weeks of the road trip. However, I found out that if Toukam and I were to be sharing an apartment, we would have to have it in Cape Town proper, while my office was to be in a suburb. Having established that a car would be needed for the whole eleven week journey, the process of finding which method of finding a car became a burden.

Originally, I had thought that it would be easy and cheap to find an old used car, buy it, and start rolling. Unfortunately, problems cropped up. Getting to each car would be a bother because of lack of public transport. I would not know if the car was a lemon. It would cost a lot of money and time to worry about registration and insurance. There would not be any recourse upon a breakdown. Looking into rentals was just as dismal. There were age restrictions that would be prohibitive to my 19 year old self. Restrictions on daily mileage would keep us from having a quick pace. Travelling to other countries would be a huge hassle. And it costs a lot. Where could we turn?

Upon further research, I thought I found our solution. Drive South Africa, a rental company, also did Buybacks (a way of buying a car and having a contract stating that the company will buy it back at a certain time for a certain amount). Depressingly, I also found out that it had been a scam and shut down a couple years ago after leaving many customers in the dust with cars on their hands with nobody to buy them. Discouraged but not defeated, I persevered. I came across the suspiciously similarly-named Drive Africa.

They offered the same service, buybacks, but with many improvements and far less sketchiness. For one, they have been in business for 12 years. Two, they are bonded and insured through a large SA tourism organization, SATSA. Third, nobody has complained about them to SATSA since they joined it. Having looked through all other possibilities and finding nothing wrong with Drive Africa, I contacted them, got a quote, and liked what I saw and heard. As of now, I have a deposit down on a 2000 manual Toyota Corolla for eleven weeks with registration and insurance included. It can be taken to other countries, and there are no mileage limits. On top of that, they're picking me up at the airport and dropping me off there too, to save me hours of hassle! Put simply, it's a godsend. I've been as cautious as possible, and I'm praying that they aren't really great scammers.

The second relatively large issue now is the apartment. Because of some confusion with Toukam's internship, he will be arriving after me, though his people are finding the apartment. I'm not too worried, but I'm praying they will find us a safe apartment with Internet and secure parking. One thing is for sure- I'm so glad I did not have to find an apartment on my own. I'm confident it will be resolved, though. If worse comes to worse, I can live in a hostel for a week or so until I figure things out.

There will be more problems, more snags, and many long waits in airports, but this dream is happening. I will go into the specifics of the trip in my next post, but I hope this post has sufficiently caught you, Reader, up with how this whole summer formed itself. I plan on blogging this entire summer with pictures and everything, so please stay tuned and leave comments!

I'm ready for an Old School Adventure, and I want you to come along. Stay Classy!

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