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.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
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!
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!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
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!
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!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
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.
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.
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