Full Circle::Back in Capetown

A few things:

1. I held a lion cub. that's actually all you need to know.

But just in case
We slept in little "huts", rode around in a crazy jeep and got like 6 feet away from elephants (!!!), lions, rhinos, giraffes, warthogs! Maybe now people will believe me that I was actually in Africa.
It was really quite charming.

After a full day of driving, we are back in Capetown, where we started, and tomorrow we get on the plane!

I am happy/sad/homesick/Africasick?/all of the above. But looking forward to seeing everyone, telling stories, and reflecting on everything.

Off to Safari, almost out of rand.

WHAT THE HECK?! Every time I try to get money for this trip, it backfires horribly. Thank goodness for friends who don't mind floating you a few (hundred) rand until your card agrees with South Africa.

I have been having a fantastic time in Grahamstown! It's been so sunny, and laid back.

We went and saw a few more plays, The Olive Tree and Pictures of You, and then a performance art/installation thing called Terminal.

The Olive Tree was a beautiful play with 3 women in in, and surrounded the story of 4 generations of troubled mother/daughter relations. It was so emotionally involved, and quite powerful and healing. The set was gorgeous- a tree made of driftwood and fabric, wrapped into the celing of the small stage, and the backdrop a clay-toned silhouette of the tree. The floor was dirt and tile, and the characters really interacted withe very piece of the set, and used highly stylized body movements along with their dialogue to lead you through the story.

Then, that night, we went and saw Pictures of You, a masked theatre piece designed for a deaf audience. It was probably the most unexpectedly terrifying experience I have had in a great while, but also one of the best performances I have ever seen. It had only 2 characters, a man and a woman, and a small set in an intimate theater setting. It's hard to describe, but it had a certain charm, as you saw the story of an old couple and their romance. However, interweaving the recollections were the old man's nightmares, and a marionette of a demon woman! We are still debating what everything meant- it was very abstract, but we think it dealt with how the old man was recovering from his traumatic memory of coming home to his wife murdered in their kitchen. Even though there was a character of an old woman, by the end, it became fuzzy if she was real, or if he was keeping her trapped in his imagination, never letting go of her spirit or memory. But, another fantastically physical theater piece, I was fully engaged the entire performance, and Amanda and I had a death grip on each other's hands.

Today, after we took our final (wah wahhhh, finals in the arm chairs of the lounge of the hostel, Kael sleeping in and taking her final in sweatpants eating cereal from a bag) we went market crazy and bartered up a storm for some African trinkets, and snjoyed the music of the street performers everywhere.

Tonight, we went to this crazy art installation piece, in an abandoned train station. The artist is well-known for his work, where the audience is always involved somehow, and you can never be sure what to expect.

We were led into the station's waiting room, and handed a playing card. After being instructed to remain perfectly silent for what felt like ever (Bri and I cheated. a lot.) the hostess began calling out cards, one by one, and leading people through huge cast iron gates. it felt like the haunted mansion at Disneyland! It was so eerie. When my card got called, I walked through the gates into fog and symphony music, and was faced with the neverending railway before me, and actors dressed in masks pacing the platform. Immediately, I felt a tiny hand slip into mine, and looked down to see a little African boy who was, apparently, to be my guide. He led me through various "found object" art stations involving actors representing the people throughout the history of the station. We walked all down the platform, across the tracks, over a bridge, and through a cemetary, through 'homeless' camps, soldier's stations, fire pits, and through headstones. It was simultaneously the eeriest and most freeing experience I have had, as I pondered being led through the darkness by a little boy, who knew the way while I had no idea where I was. The spell broke a little bit when he stopped for a bathroom break (teehee) but it was altogether enchanting, something I will take with me always. There are so many layers of meaning! Which I guess is the point, eh?

Oh, to add to the list of creepy/freeing experiences. I showered in the sketchiest shower ever following the possessed puppet play. The Rhodes dormitory we are staying in is pretty old, and the shower was an old-fashioned head, and the trees were blowing against the window in the wind, the lights low. And did I mention, it was midnight and I was all alone, down a really long and silent hallway?

I am off to Safari next, so probably won't write for a while. Sendin all my lovin to you!

One or two things too funny to miss

I can now honestly say I have seen the worst movie ever filmed. If you hear anything about Crime, that debuted at the Grahamstown Festival, please, spare your precious hours and take my word for it: do NOT go see it.

Expecting an intense postmodern political narrative, we instead witnessed what appeared to be a shallow fourteen year old's rendition of a thought-provoking drama. I got worried when the director introduced the film and said he did not think we would enjoy it- if it's your art and you know it has something to say, don't apologize. It only went downhill from there.

The filmmaking itself was terrible and cliche, even by low-budget standards. The dialogue was also loaded with generalizations and blatent, painfully cliche, remarks quite clearly not the character's own. I felt horrible for the poor actors roped into this drama, with no room at all to develop their characters.

Basically, the premise was to make a movie showing the realities of crime in South Africa. It was really a good thought, trying to make something to provoke conversation about the problem, and help people see it in a new light. It was just a terrible execution. The violence felt gratuitous, and there was a very graphic rape scene. While the director expected us to feel challenged by these, our discussions were not about the horror of the crime, but about his horrible job of creating any real issue to discuss. All in all, it produced a conversation about why the movie did not at all succeed in its goal. The audience got a chance to Q&A a bit with the director, and his answers felt shallow and suspiciously sounded of bs'ing.

Anyways, I could go on for a while about why I hated that. The funny part comes now. MaryAnne and I are sitting in the theatre cafe today, and the guys from the filmmaking crew are walking down the street, publicizing their film. We kindly thanked but no thanked their offer for flyers, and were getting ready to leave when the director recognized us as being part of the group that came last night and asked if he could talk to us. We said we could spare a few minutes, but only a few since we were meeting people (really, we were.) He sat down, and began talking to MaryAnn, probably the wise choice if he correctly guaged my general reaction. He promptly called the waitress over, and paid for our lunch! He had us cornered. A conversation of us kindly trying to explain the issues we had, without him really trying to listen, ensued. All in all, funny later. He seemed nice enough, and I think he has a heart for what he's doing.

Well we are off to finish our final papers and go shop around the market!

Grahamstown Scene

So many resolves to blog, how quickly they fade away when a nice warm sleeping bag is waiting and you have to get up early the next morning.

I have just been thinking about so many things, it's hard to know the small ones to pick out and "write home" about.

Like I said before, working with Habitat in Stellenbosch was nothing like I expected it to be. I experienced a form of culture shock, but not the one I was anticipating. Without wanting to leave a really negative impression of my time there, I'll just tell you, let's talk when I get back.
We didn't do much in Stellenbosch outside of the build, so there's not much else to say!

We made it here to Grahamstown, after about 2 days worth of driving. Fortunately, the driving was broken into two chunks, and the long one was along the beautiful Garden Route. We stopped over for a few nights in Plettenberg Bay, a (in my estimation) somewhat of a yuppyish resort town, but absolutely beautiful seaside destination! We stayed at a cute little hostel right off of the downtown strip. There were all kinds of cafes and such, and we were about a 15 minute walk away from the beach. Though it was not exactly a stroll- a fairly steep hill separated the beach and the town.

The beach had actual white sand(!) (a novelty for this Alaskan), and was surrounded by small rocky cliffs. We went and laid out on some rocks, in a little cove, to eat and work on papers and things. It was a pleasant mixture of warm wind and sunshine, and even though the locals were bundled up, to us, it felt like summer!

We had some really interesting classes in Plettenberg- discussing the ideas of ancestors and faith, as well as healing. It has, interestingly, gotten me to thinking about things back home, the situations and injustices there. I would write more, but I am not really sure what I am talking about yet, either.
...
After another drive, this one not as pretty, but in which we discovered that gas stations have espresso machines and the best candy ever.

Grahamstown is a University town, and we are in the middle of a HUGE and wonderfully vibrant arts festival. You could go to something every hour of the day and never see it all! Our prof took us on a whirlwind tour of the area when we arrived last night. She decided to walk us down the little sidewalks where the merchants have their wares out, and I thought I was either going to get sucked into a swirl of people and end up living here or else just get trampled. It's really fun, but, when you are expecting an evening stroll through the quiet streets, and then get thrown into the middle of a market that makes you think of the streets of India, it's a little overwhelming. We had to recoup next to a cathedral, where we watched a group of guys our age do some drumming and dancing in the traditional style. There are also little kids dressed up as mimes that line the streets, and if you throw a few rand in their bowls, they will dance. I wasn't sure how to feel about it, but most of them seem to be having fun with it, so I am keeping small change in my front pocket for when I walk around.

Last night, we went to our first play, called The Return. It was quite an experience attending it as an American, because the premise revolves around a former political resistance fighter fleeing in exile to America, marrying and African-American woman, and then returning to visit his parents in their township home. I think the most enjoyable part for me was sitting in front of some older women, probably local. Much of the play was in Xhosa, with translations. But I felt like I had my own interpreters behind me, as the chorus of laughter and sighs and clicks and admonitions rose and fell with the emotions of the plot. Best of all were the laughs and cheers when the Mama told her son and husband off, and the murmurs of agreement when she declares her son's wife too skinny. I heard one woman whisper to the other, "Real African women have curves. "

We have a play or film or two a day to see for the next few days, and some vendors and local fare to explore.

Off for now, but sending all my love.

Stellenboschin'

This will be a quickie, because this really sweet South African girl is letting us use internet time on her student account!
So. Stellenbosch.
Well, basically its a little university/wine town, and we are staying here in the University dorms and working with some students from here on a Habitat for Humanity project in the township of Mfuleni, about 30 minutes or so out of town. Honestly, it's been a kind of strange experience so far.
The first two days of construction, we got rained out by the unexpected cold front blowing over Stellenbosch this week. The philosophy of Habitat, though, is to go to the build site no matter what. Which for us meant getting up really early, then hiding out in a neighbor's house next to the site where we were supposed to be building a house, and leaving about 5 hours earlier than planned. The kids of the township were in school, so we didn't really have any interactions with them. And, our homeowner was not able to come to the site until the second day. So, we sat around drinking tea that the ladies of the neighborhood made for us, feeling utterly useless.
Today was a bit better, but we didn't really do much building. Our homeowner has several people working on his house-- they might be relatives, or just friends. The way habitat works is that you have to put in so many "sweat equity" hours before you can qualify to apply for your own house, but we aren't sure if these young men are doing that or are in some kind of informal agreement with our homeowner. At any rate, they are much more experienced in the type of construction we are doing, rendering us essentially brute manual labor forces for moving bricks and mixing Dugga. Ah, yes- brick lines and dugga, I should tell you about those. Brick lines are what they sound, standing in a line and swinging bricks at each other to pass them without actually lifting them (so goes the theory, unless the girl next to you keeps taking her gloves off, then you end up bearing quite a bit of unexpected weight. or so I have heard. . .) And dugga is the cement/sand/water mixture used as mortar for the brick house. You have to take several loads of sand, then dump the cement on top of it and turn it over with the shovel, then repeating the process using water. Much more labor intensive than it sounds! It makes it nice for the builders/bricklayers to have everything at their disposal, but it doesn't always require all volunteers.
Today, the kids got out of school. It was complete madness! At times, anyway. So, we have been playing with a few kids here and there, but there must have been at least 30 around our site today. First off, we are playing with a few in the street, and some others poke their heads out of fences and start saying some word in Xhosa, then darting away and giggling. We have no idea what, but try to invite them to play anyway. They come, but keep repeating it- I think its something like looma? One of the South African girls picks up on it and realizes they are yelling, "White Person! White Person!" It isn't as if they haven't seen them before, so apparently it's just custom. We wanted to point back and say, "Little black child! little black child!" They find it quite funny, but maybe they like us a little bit, because it turned into "My white person!" while they were playing with us. Oh heavens, I think they think we are human jungle gyms. They have no real relative sense of personal space, and feel quite free to climb on you and grab your things. I am not kidding or trying to stereotype- these little buggers grab and run! We are able to organize a few games and generally get thigns back, but you have to keep your eye on them.
Other than that, the South Africans have been trying to entertain us and themselves. We've been pretty wiped so haven't been up for much, but did go to a pub & then winetasting yesterday afternoon. Actually, at the second vineyard, we were heading down the path and saw a sign for a coffee shop, so, being the Seattlites we are, went and sampled the famed local double espresso in lieu of the renowned local wine. (We weren't alone, some people from my house group joined us.) Tonight we went to the Arizona Spur, a South African interpretation of an American restaurant, for burgers and shakes.
Like I said, I've been enjoying myself, but having a really interestign experience working in the townships. No matter how many images you see or books you read before you get here, nothing gets you ready for it, really. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but can't say it's anything like I expected.
That reminds me, I should write about our visit to an orphanage, but I will do that when I am not on someone else's time.
love you all!
Oh yes, and if anyone in Juneau hears they have an arrest warrant out for me for missing Jury duty due to being halfway across the world, you can assume my phone call did not work today, and can vouch for me if you care.

Capetown, cont.

We have done SO much the last few days, I am really not even sure how long we have been here! haha. But, oh, it has all been so good. Our activities in Capetown have mostly been touristy in nature, but we have been meeting people and taking class, too, so we don't feel like total American bums.
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The day after Robben Island, we drove out around the 12 Apostles (I think they are called?)- basically, a road around the mountain. It was a beautiful day, unusually warm (so we hear) for winter, and a fun, if a tad bumpy & long, drive. And then we went to. . .wait for it. . .the TIP OF AFRICA! What. the. heck.
We arrived at the Cape of Good Hope's national park, and got to go out on the trail to the top of the cliff area overlooking the lighthouse on the peninsula. Even though it's a very manicured area, with cobblestone paths and stairs in some places, it wasn't terribly crowded and the park didn't feel in the way of the scenery. If you are from Juneau, think of the trails around Mount Roberts.
We could not have asked for a more perfect day to be there. We stopped along at the first outlook, which wrapped around some huge white rocks and overlooked the bay. The blue was that deep, really oceany feeling blue. The cliffs reminded us almost of Dover, but with grey and black striations. The cliffs really do just drop fairly straight down, and even though it was a beautiful day, the waters were far from calm and inviting looking. Serene, yes, but with white lines tracing in them from their impact against the base of the cliffs. We could see for miles out, the day was so clear, and on every side we looked at, there was another jutting and rounded cliff.
The trail out to the peninsula actually reminded us a bit of the Great Wall, the way it twisted around the different levels of rock, all the way out to the end of the tip overlooking the lighthouse on the very end of the land. You could see every side of the point, and I felt like I could have stared out at any of them for the rest of the day. I wanted nothing more than to sit on a rock and gaze out at the ocean until the sun went down.
After tearing ourselves away from the view at the top, we walked what we deemed the Slatted Stairway of Doom, followed by the Sands of Despair, to a beach well worth taking your life in your hands. (To any worrying mothers reading this, consider it hyperbole). The trek down to the beach was a good piece longer than we expected, with a boardwalk, followed by aforementioned stairs and sands. I'll admit to getting a little dizzy on the stairs, and I know I am not alone. I felt, at least a little, I began to understand the proverbial African Sun- it is truly a different kind of heat, not the hottest I've ever been, but I felt the white intensity of sun as never before. The light wood did not help, nor the steep angle. Once we passed those, we were faced with, quite literally, a near-vertical drop of sand. It was wet enough that if you stepped back on your heel and kind of slid, like in snow, you were fine, but I do not think I would have believed that if I didn't see all of the happy and alive looking people below me.
Once we got down to the beach, we went up to some big flat rocks just above the cliffs where the water crashes, sending huge sprays of sea into the air like a fountain. Two of the girls and I were laughing, because we dared each other out there in the first place, but despite the fact that where we were standing was wet, we witnessed about 20 huge waves without getting any water on us. Finally, we linked arms and stepped forward, making a pact to withstand whatever came next. Which turned out to be the largest wave we had seen. The water shot up in the air before dumping on us in drops the size of apples.
We all played around in the water and sand like you always do at a beach, and got the second requisite soak from unpredictable waters.
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Yesterday was a day I will hold in my soul for the rest of my life. After waiting around in the hostel to check on the storm warnings, we got the all-clear to hike Table Mountain.
We were dropped off a little ways up, at the trailhead, by a taxi. I think they build that trailhead just to weed out any potential last-minute backouts, because it was a good ten minutes or so of straight up on rocks. But, I'm glad we were intrepid enough to power through and see what the rest held. It was a nicely maintained trail, mostly all rocks placed in a path for you to hike. But, it was indeed nearly straight up for a lot of it.
How can I even begin to describe the beauty of that place? I felt like I had been plucked and dropped straight into a National Geographic shot of some enchanted land. (Or like the falls in Up!) The day was perfect for hiking, as the mist still clung on to the side of the mountain. When it swirled around us, we could see the cliffs and trees on the side. It was about a 2 hour hike, maybe a little less if you take out photo op time. Mercifully, the trail we took included many switchbacks. Just before we reached the top, though, there was a ravine to be scaled. Fairly much all four limbs involved to get up that last little piece. I loved the nature of the hike, for I felt like I could feel the weight of each step, and really appreciate the beauty of the scenery while climbing to the top.
The top was simply amazing. It is flat, so if you walk around, you can overlook all sides. They have a little cable car station (for cheaters to get up) and, of course, a restaurant and some gift shops. The perfect ending to the hike of my life? The perfect latte, made of coffee rivaling Heritage or Stumptown and oh, so welcomed in the cold. We took the cable car down, because the hike down is a little more precarious when it is wet outside.
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That night, we went to an Anglican church- St. George's cathedral, and got to attend the Induction of Choristers. Group staff- they sang so many of our potentially monotonal incantation songs!
Oh, well, my internet time is about to run out, which is probably good since I have half of a paper left to write before tomorrow at 8 am. I am not sure about the internet situation in Stellenbosch, where we are headed next, but hopefully I'll get to write soon!

There is now Here

Capetown! Days 1 & 2
Well I made it. After 24 hours of extremely disorienting airplane flights, where I guaged approximate time and destination by the mystery meal being served and the language of the packaging.
Funny story about banking and travelling abroad: tell your banks you are leaving, so they don't freeze your account. Another funny story: sometimes exchange booths run out of cash to trade in the little money you do have on you. Yeeahhh. I shall learn to live the simple life (until tomorrow at least).
Heavens, I have been thinking about so much I don't even know what to say. . .
...A few things...
I usually tear through a novel or something on flights, but this time it was kind of nice to just sit alone with my thoughts. Really, I do feel like I am learning something about simplifying. I decided to skip out on portable electronics, so just sat and soaked in humanity en route (between cramming myself into awkward in-flight sleeping positions). It was kind of peaceful, really. I saw so many beautiful families. I also watched the little map on the screen move along as we went for a while. It was surreal, the plane tracing a little line across the globe. I couldn't help but feel the, I suppose you could call it humor, of seeing the earth in all its rugged peaks and huge waters, with neat little white lines atop it, marking out spaces of land we claim to be ours. It made me realize, it's really not, at all.
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The unexpected beauty of Table Mountain silhouetted against the night sky positively took my breath away in our drive to our hostel last night. I haven't felt that kind of awe at the sheer splendor of nature in so long. It's hard to explain, but the starkness of a single, jutting land mass amongst silhouetted trees and city lights was mystical. I didn't even take out my camera, I was so entranced by its might.
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This morning, my internal clock rang its own alarm and woke me up at promptly 4am. Such a convenient time. After trying, and failing, to fall back asleep, reading, sitting, I gave up. Around 5am I discovered I was not the only one on this schedule. A girl on my trip & I decided to go outside to read, journal, and wait for the sunrise.
If I thought the mountain at night was breathtaking, it was nothing to watching the slow dawning of the sun's light on its face.
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Today was our visit to Robben Island. It has seen many uses, the most recent an Apartheid-era "hellhole of a prison,"comparable to Alcatraz in its locale. We were guided on a tour of the former prision facilities by a former political prisoner, who now lives and works on the island.
The very concept of living on an island where for years of your life you were imprisoned in abominable conditions for no real crime is a testament to the human power to overcome. I honestly can not tell you yet what all I felt while visiting. The pain of the place felt so raw- and indeed its atrocities are quite recent, in our lifetime. Yet, here are these people, reclaiming it, sharing their stories that the world may know and learn.
Our tour guide for the rest of the island was not a former prisoner, but grew up in the townships, and remembers celebrating Mandela's release. I stopped to talk to him for a while about what it was like, commuting to give tours each day. He told me that each new day, he feels he learns. There are so many people, from the world over, who come to see this island- and he sees that as a symbol of hope, that so many want to know, want to learn and re-build. The responses of visitors can be very visceral, and very emotionally charged, he told me. He said he often worked with groups of white visitors who, even if they were from another country, felt an oppressive sense of guilt. It was so interesting, talking to him about his work of being a tour guide, yet not in the usual sense of pointing out landmarks and facts, but telling stories and relating history.
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On a lighter note, there were penguins and peacocks on the island!
And I got teased an unfair amount for our guide introducing himself to me. It was educational, people. Even if he was just a little bit charming.
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Well, my group is ready to head back to the hostel for the night. We are all exhausted but powering through to 9 pm (such party animals) before we sleep.
I'll try to organize my thoughts some more at some point, skipping out on cliches and all that jazz. But, in rough form, as they are in my mind, here they are.

Not real just yet

Well.

Everything I own is still mostly scattered across the floor of my Grandma's spare bedroom, and I am ignoring the looming packing job and sitting at a coffee shop with LindseyLoo, taking care of such important details as making this blog I may or may not actually use. 

I'll give the usual spiel and tell you that I am going to try to keep this updated as I go, but it will all depend. On the internet, on how tired I am, on life. 

So, what will I be up to? Many things! 

Of general interest:

Week one we'll be around Cape Town, week two we'll be working with Habitat for Humanity in Stellenbosch, week three going to the Grahmstown Theatre Festival, and then heading out to do some touristy things, like going on a safari.

Of interest to nerds & academics:

I'll be working on assignments for Dr. Segall's South African Lit & Theater classes, writing papers (by hand!) and such. I'll also be getting started on my senior honors project, something involving a study & comparison of Community-based health clinics over there and back here. That is probably the thing that I am the most excited about so far- I might get to interview some health care workers, and scout around book stores. 

...

If this all sounds very vague, it's because that's how I feel right about now. I have known for probably over a year that I am going on this trip, but it has all sounded like a far-away plan until a few days ago when I started putting things in my backpack. 

The one thing I can see clearly is that God has brought me here, and is sending me on this trip. I have no idea why, but do we ever? It is a funny thing, just a small study-abroad. Not a call to abandon everything and move in a day- but a gradual nudge. It's as if God has been whispering into my ear that I will go, igniting a spark of excitement in my heart when I heard this trip announced as a freshman and leaving a persistent, restless feeling that I was to go.  

That's the most intriguing part- I was ready to go last summer, but didn't.  Circumstances didn't cancel the trip, just rearranged themselves so that I would go this summer instead of last. In spite of wanting to go, I probably denied the invitation 3 or 4 times before Dr. Segall called me into her office and said, Kael- you will love this, you will go. I can't honestly say it applies to my major, or that I carefully selected it from a catalog of options. I just know, I am supposed to go. Not to say that I don't value the work we'll do there- Oh no. I know for a fact it will kick my tiny non-English major behind, and will force me to wrap my head around so many new things I will want to explode. I am just really quite interested to know what God's got planned for me there. Maybe I won't know for quite some time everything it will teach me. But, what I do know is- I am supposed to go. For whatever awaits me there, I will go. 

I am ready to open my arms and mind to see what South Africa has to teach me. 

...

That being said, I really hate waiting out the day before I fly away. I get sick to my stomach thinking of all these new, "independent(!)" and unknown journeys, and can't decide if it would be better to already be there or to go and hide at home. So, I'll do things like pack and re-pack and pack too much in fear I will forget something, then forget something anyway.