Two sides

Sunday June 28

For the most part, roaming around Capetown, you could think you’re in Seattle, New York, London, any large international city. However, on occasion you see things that illustrate the great disparity between this partly first world, partly third world country. Yesterday, while waiting for my companions to finish their tour of the National Gallery, I sat on the bench in the sun of a park square. I saw two wedding parties, both coloured, no that’s not a racist term here, the first was a lovely bride in an embellished gown, tuxedos, and a charming flower girl with the rest of the family, very western in appearance. The second was a bride in a head scarf, colorfully clothed, but not the traditional white, with a handsome groom, fully bearded and stern looking, except when he smiled for the camera.

Meanwhile, as I sat, between the two weddings, a homeless man came up to the fountain inhabited by geese and other waterfowl, stagnating and green, and dipped out water to drink before finding his way to the trash bin to look for a discarded sandwich.
Cape Town is a city of juxtapositions, the slave lodge next to Parliament, the townships next to million dollar coastal condos. It’s obvious the disparity, but the thing that impresses me the most is the willingness of the people to forgive, move on, and rebuild. 15 years after the end of apartheid, there is NOT equality. There very well may never be, since economic disparity will always exist world wide – why should we expect SA and Cape Town to achieve what we have not?

Today we had a great lecture from a young white professor, all the others have been well…pretty ancient, actually. I admired his hopeful disposition as he spoke about the healthy state of SA’s democracy. So often countries who throw off colonial oppression, or any oppressive government go through decades of replacing one with another, just as bad. However, SA has at least been able to hold free and fair elections with 77% voter turn out and transferred power with minimal, if not no, violence. I know that’s the US claim to democratic fame, but watch out…in 200 hundred years, we will have company. One thing I struggle to keep in mind here is that this REALLY is a baby democracy…only 15 years as a true democracy, one with the participation of all eligible voters.

No picture for this entry, I haven’t gotten to download them, but let me say that this is the first entry in which I feel not as a tourist, telling you what I saw, but rather a student, telling you what I have learned, or at least I’m beginning to learn.

Robben Island and Table Mountain

Saturday June 27

I was awake at 3:30 am, unable to go back to sleep, spent two hours reading My Sister’s Keeper, a well written book by Jodi Piccoult about the complications of parenting children with adverse needs and thirty minutes exercising with my bands before indulging in breakfast. I had our traditional breakfast of coffee and toast with butter and jam. However, this morning I had the additional treat of two Satsuma like oranges, which we bought from a street vendor, two bags for 5R, 5 South African Rands; the equivalent of $2.50 American. We bought so many of them that now in the morning for breakfast, Kay (0ne of our group leaders) is pushing oranges like they're crack, but they are delicious.

We left the hotel around 8 am and spent two hours in a guided tour on Robben Island, the prison island where Nelson Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years of imprisonment - his cell, 4x4,(picture) with no bed and no chair, sleeping on the ground with a straw mat and three thin blankets. Our tour guide, a formal political prisoner, a fellow inmate of Mandela’s, shared with us stories about how Mandela and the older political prisoners would send messages via tennis balls to the younger separated prisoners who were brought to Robben Island following the Soweto student revolt in the late 70’s. They would put messages inside the tennis balls and hit them over the walls "accidently" to other cell blocks. It was a dark cold place that Mandela had to live in, and his survival and hopeful spirit is obviously meaningful to today’s South Africans. Across from me in the communal cell through one of our guide’s speeches, a lovely South African girl, perhaps a college student, certainly no older than 25, mouthed the prisoner number of Mandela as our guide spoke it aloud -the expression on her face, one of great reverence.

Following the bumpy ferry return to the main land from the island, we were bussed over to Table Mountain to spend two hours riding the cable car to the top. It is without a doubt one of the most spectacularly beautiful places I have ever seen. From the top of the mountain one could almost feel a god like power, literally walking across clouds to see the lives from above.
For dinner, we went down two blocks from the hotel to Mario's a family owned Italian restaurant. We had the best server, Gavin Jacobs, a school teacher himself. His school is out on vacation for the next two weeks, but we would like to go visit when we return to Cape Town. He told us about his curriculum and his needs. We all chipped in to leave an extra nice tip for him so that he could buy more school supplies.

"Buried in Stolen Dirt"

June 26, 2009
YEA!!! My luggage has arrived and I will have clean underwear from now on! I can’t tell you how happy that made me, and it arrived shrunk wrapped from Amsterdam, everything in place. I only had to buy one extra outfit.
I sat through three lectures this morning and afternoon. One phrase keeps running through my mind, “buried in stolen dirt.” One of the professors today spoke about the displacement of Africans to Bantu homelands and spoke about a couple who had to bury their baby in “stolen” dirt because they owned no land to bury their baby, who died during their move. This was incredibly touching to me. Can you imagine not even being able to own enough dirt to bury your child? Maybe it’s because I have such a close relationship with Darrin, but this phrase especially was especially haunting. “Buried in stolen dirt”, if you were such a child…would you rest comfortably?
Tonight, my new friends and I walked down by the water way, and I had a great steak for dinner, and hung out with great friend, talking politics, education, etc. I had a great time. Amy had sardines, and Jacob was my favorite because he is so sweet. I love how different we all are and how much we have in common. Amy, from NC, actually made a reference to “Greater Tuna” a southern play and one of my favorites. Kathy reminds me of Anna, tough as nails and funny as hell. It was a good day. Tomorrow will be Robben Island and Green Market Square where we are expected to haggle for price, something I hate doing.

Say g'night, SA

Thursday June 25 10:00 pm

Just back from the V and A Waterfront, where I bought a new outfit for tomorrow. KLM has assured me that my luggage will be here tonight, but it hasn't come yet. After a rigorous round of lecture on the geography and survival tips about S. Africa, a bunch of us went to a pub and watched the first half of the Brazil v. SA soccer match. Rowdy group.

I met a bunch of retired Scotts and took their picture. They asked to buy me a bear and told me they left their wives at home b'c they had been married too long. Nice guys, retired now and following the England Lions, their rugby team around SA. Tomorrow, we go back the University of the Western Capefor a series of history seminars. Pictures will be forth coming.

Where's my luggage?

Thursday June 25
So, I arrived in Cape Town, last night around 9 pm, Cape time. It was 2 or so, back home. As soon as we got to immigration, I heard my name paged, which I knew was bad. Of course, my luggage was still in Amsterdam. I will hopefully have it tomorrow morning. I have to call today and have it delivered to the Check Inn. I washed my underwear in the sink with hand soap and hung it to dry in my room. I hope the University isn’t really strict on that dress code because tomorrow, it looks like I’ll be wearing a jogging suit again. The room is small and the bathroom smaller, I’m glad we’re not sharing while we’re here.
The flight was loooooooooooonnnnng OMG! I have never sat for that long before, a total of 23 hours in flying time + an additional 2 waiting on the Minneapolis tarmac while Delta worked out engine problems. I never have good luck flying Delta, ask Darrin about when we flew with them for that horrible Hawaiin trip.
Everyone in the group seems really normal and likable. Kori is from Hawaii, and we chatted quite a bit. Kathy loaned me 10 Rand and some shampoo for tomorrow morning. Maile is conversational and fun to talk to. Elayna put together power point slides with pictures and brief bios so we can get names and faces quicker. Debra was kind enough to loan me her “onflight” toiletry bag with lotion and toothpaste. Hopefully my luggage will be here before we get back to the hotel tomorrow.

First sign of wild life

This morning, as I was finishing packing, this giraffee was spotted by my suitcase. I believe he may have stowed away. I will call him Geoffery.

The Check Inn

155 Main rd Greenpoint, South Africa 8005 (telephone)(021) 439 4444 (fax)(021) 439 7199 checkinn@mweb.co.za visit www.48hours.co.za

Ok, so this is my first stop in Cape Town. I'll be there off and on for approxiamately three weeks. Cute name, huh?

Looks a little like a dorm room, but since I never got that experience, I won't complain. I think I'm on my own with this room, but the others, when we're traveling, I'll have to share.

T minus 2 days and counting

Yesterday I got my toes and nails trimmed and painted, just clear on my hands and short nails. I know that I won't be keeping them painted in South Africa. Today, I repacked, bought a larger suitcase, on sale at Macy's and loaded it up. 59 lbs on my home scale, that's over weight, but I'll pay the fee. At least it's all in one suitcase, even if I can't lift it more than a foot from the ground. I also bought a jogging suit to wear on my 1 1/2 day flight from Seattle to Minnesota to Amsterdam (where I meet up with the gang) and then it's on to Cape Town.

We've been adivsed to make sure we print out our itinerary because Cape Town is known to hassle people who can't prove they have a return flight.

My friend Stephanie gave me a great fabric bag last day of school. I've already filled it with snacks for the plane, handsanitizer, sun glasses, etc. I still have to pack my phone charger and the computer. But otherwise I'm pretty much ready for my African adventure.