Today is Special...because it's February 1st here

Happy Birthday to a wonderful person!

I send my love from the other side. Now everyone please do your best to make it a big hoorah and embarrass him on my account.

The Cape Town Mini-Bus

Today, Mariah and I went on a nice run. It’s so good to have camaraderie while running. Even the mornings here are quite warm, and often dehydration weighs heavily on my endurance. After our run, Mariah, Sam, and I took the minibus back to Clifton, to a beach a couple coves down from the one we had been to before. On the way we met several locals who enlightened us about the endless activities in CT and wished us a very happy semester. Then, we spent another day relaxing in the brilliant sunshine that Cape Town offers. After some time, a good portion of our group joined us and for hours we ventured in and out of the cold water and up and down the coastline. Not a bad Monday. I ended the day with a guitar serenade by Brittany; there is nothing better.

The mini-bus system here is used more commonly than the regular buses that we are used to. The mini-bus driver and his “associate” take charge of the navigating and payment/passenger collections, respectively. Their pay is based on commission, so the more passengers, the more pay. There is no time to stop for more time than is necessary or to drive slowly.

And, it seems to me that never, under any circumstances is there a lack of room for one

more person until every seat meant for one is filled with at least two people. It is a process of piling in and piling out, since often the person departing is in the back of the mini-bus with 10 strangers acting as obstacles to the door. The advantage of riding the mini-bus is that you can ask the driver to stop anywhere along his route. Everyone pays roughly the same price for his or her distance traveled. Sometimes you can barter with the drivers if you are in a big group or persuade them to take you somewhere off of their typical route for some extra rand. One thing is for sure, the drivers care about their money. I have been on a mini-bus when the driver stopped the car and refused to continue until everyone had paid. These buses are dangerous, especially for the obvious foreigner. Petty theft is a common occurrence, and holding on to your bags is very necessary. Yet, there exists a whole chaotic system of passing bills up and back as people stuck behind other passengers reach to pay for their fare. We are told not to ride these after 6 pm. I can only imagine. It surely is a culturally enriching experience.

How Low Can You Go?

Sunday, Grace, my very sweet apartment-mate attending Williams from upstate NY, and I woke up to run at 6:30 in the morning. Somehow, I feel like adrenaline pulses through my veins here. Everyday is exciting and new, no matter how sleep-deprived I may be. Do you see a general them here? We had to meet at 7:30 to board the buses for a peninsula tour. Although we initially sat in the back, Brittany and I made our way to the front seat of the bus, squeezing with Praise on a seat meant for two. It was a blast and the views were unbelievably beautiful. We drove around the entire peninsula- not an easy trek for a largebus. We stopped four times to get out and take thousands of pictures, like the true American tourists that we are. But, for the most part we spent the day gawking at the beauty of the coastline and joking with each other from our cozy but comfy seats.

We stopped at Boulder’s Beach to see the penguins.

We stopped at a township for lunch and ate in their convention center. This township, as small as it is holds 40,000 inhabitants. It has a school and many different churches as well as a variety of extracurricular programs for the community’s kids. The kids performed for us; they were quite good and very expressive. It was clear that their involvement meant a great deal to them. The members of this township are for the most part well fed and in possession of shelter but a great deal receive government support and drug problems run rampant throughout the community. It is a very harsh way to live.

Our last stop along the tour was at the Cape of Good Hope, the South-Western most tip of all of Africa. That was a concept to wrap my head around. The coastline there is divine and generally untouched. It is secluded enough and the cliffs steep enough that tourist don’t often find themselves eager to destroy the white sands and natural shores with their lasting treads.

We hiked up to the light house and then down to the tip of the cliffs. It was wonderful, but by the time we got back into the buses there was a general need for shut-eye.

Most of us slept the whole way home

as burns started to form on our backs and shoulders.

That night, we went to half off sushi and cocktails at a nice restaurant called Beluga. It was our “family dinner” with the whole program, organized by G and Charles. It was delicious.

I shared a huge platter with my newfound friend Brendan. We weren’t sure of half of what we were eating but it was delicious and well worth the price. I spent most of dinner probing three of my guy friends about their families and hopes and dreams in life. They soon found that generally my dinner table conversation, as I have learned from my family, is not simply based on the latest movies out in theaters. It was a great dinner and a good time to get to know one another.

The Old Biscuit Mill

Saturday, after a great run we ventured to The Old Biscuit Mill Market (OBM). This was one of the highlights of Cape Town thus far. The market is huge- much bigger than the farmer’s market I had expected. The food market there is spectacular, with tables of honeys, pestos, dried fruits, coconuts, cheeses, home-made bagles, crepes…you name it, it’s there. We noticed very quickly that this market is a place to be seen. With wine tasting and champagne offerings, young, beautiful South Africans make their way to the weekly market on Saturday afternoons and socialize.Beyond the food market are more shops, all with wonderful surprisesand potential gifts (although, I keep telling myself I have 5 months to buy you all things to bring back with me). In the span of those two wonderful hours at the market I was: interviewed, along with the other girls, by a young journalist for a youtube video, introduced to the best bread I have ever tasted in my life, and promised some guy named David’s leftover coconut shells to use as a bathing suit top (he later apologized to me for throwing them away before he had seen me return to the food market). I will have to save the ostrich burger for another day.

After the market, we headed back to the beach to a place near Camps Bay but a bit more secluded and protected from the wind. It was an afternoon of swimming and lounging. Many people find the water here to bevery cold but, personally, I think it is wonderfully refreshing on a hot, arid afternoon. I am pleased to say that my tan is coming along just fine. Thanks for those Hungarian genes, Dad.

The Future South African Rugby Team

Friday began bright and early after a whopping three hours of sleep the night before. I finally got to skype with The Ocho, which was well worth the expense (slight inside joke) and sleep lost. I woke up early to run before the day began and the heat set in. A lack of sleep never bothered me anyhow. We had a rugby practice with the UCT rugby coach, which- let me tell you- was hilarious, considering the fact that we could barely cognitively understand how the drills were to be run, let alone actually attempt to complete them. It was quite fun, in any case. Most of the time I was simply laughing hysterically and, although that may not go hand-in-hand with rugby, it surely adds to a good team spirit.

Then a big group of us took a mini bus to the beach called Camps Bay. Camps Bay is a combination of Santa Monica, Miami, and a dream. It is incredibely beautiful and lined with shops and restaurants. It is also incredibly white. Driving into Camps Bay is somewhat like leaving KFC to go to Wolfgang Puck’s (I would have said Dunkins, but I know, in the East, that is an elite establishment). It was somewhat disturbing to me to see the all-too clear cut difference between the world of the wealthy and that of the impoverished. Mostly, however, it is the feeling of total contentment that I find very interesting. I have heard many times while I have been here, “These are the way things are”. It is interesting to come from America, where injustice causes marches, boycotts, and continuous resentment, to a place where it seems as though people have come to accept the fact that resources in the country are completely unequal in distribution. Perhaps I am interpreting what I see completely erroneously. I will let you know as I observe more.

We toured long street Friday night, a boulevard of shops during the day and bars and clubs during the night. The roads are filled with young socialites roaming up and down, looking for the best place to dance, drink, or simply mingle and enjoy the warm night air. It is not cheap. Each bar/club has a cover fee and then drinks cost money. Yet, in South Africa, everything is still relatively cheap. Our largest cover charge was 30 rand, roughly 4.5 dollars. It is a place to gain exposure to the local culture and learn from South Africans who, in a loosened state, drop their stereotypes and social barriers.

Oh Those Americans

I have much to tell but will keep it to important details in order to spare you an unnecessary 3-hour reading. Thursday continuedthe life of vacation. In our orientation meeting that morning, we learned that platonic relationships between men and women in South Africa is relatively rare and that being overly friendly is often misconstrued as being flirtatious. This topic was undoubtedly focused on the females of the group, or as Charles calls us, “Mah girls”. We, like countless other American women fall victim to the influences of American standards of style and romantic expectationsand its false sense of innocence. What our mentors had to explain was that we are sending a direct message in the way we act and how we hold ourselves; a very good thing to note. Interestingly enough, at University of Cape Town, most students dress up for class. It is considered a privilege to attend such an elite varsity (university), and under-dressing is insulting that privilege. Yet, even at a fine institution with good students, first second and third years are expected to take on the opinions of the text and lecturer and sit quietly through class with little input or interruption. The program advisors said that there were three things in particular that distinguished the American students at UCT from the locals: 1) our unfailing need to bring our water bottles to class, 2) our tendency to wear sweatpants to class, as though that were cool, and 3) our incessant hand-raising and questioning. Seeing as I fit all of those descriptions, this should be interesting.

After orientation,

Taylor, Ilana (aka Lans), Georgie (aka Geo), and I took the minibus to the waterfront, a breathtaking area of shops, boutiques, restaurants, and lots and lots of dock space.

There are also a few museums and an aquarium, but those we will visit another day. We spent the afternoon wandering around and, of course, treating ourselves to Marcel’s, the frozen yoghurt (with an h) in Cape Town.

At a certain point, we felt the wear and tear of a day of walking in the sun and found a couch in one of the malls.

We ended up lounging there for a good 45 minutes, sharing about

our families and trying to distract Lans from focusing on her ever-worsening sunburns. After som

e quick, cheap, and healthy (such a great combo) dinner wraps in front of the water, we

visited the bay and then took a cab home. It was too late to take the mini bus. We are

learning our dos and don’ts here.

Thursday night wasn’t complete without a night of dancing at the

bar/club called Springboks- this is the name of the rugby team, for those of you who have not seen Invictus. We literally danced the night away, quickly taking over both the dance floor and the tables by the bar and then eventually the small stage by some very-out-of-place fish tanks. Just as soon as our bodies would start to fatigue another song would start to play that we “had to dance to”. This went on for hours until finally it was time to call it quits and we all squished in cabs and went home.

South African Lingo

How's it? = How are you?

varsity = university

motherless = drunk

cinema = theater

Cheers! = Bye!

Rather = Instead (but they don't place "than" after the word "rather")

burgy = homeless person

dodgy = sketchy

to be keen on = to want to

frosties = frosted flakes

tomato sauce = ketchup

hash = pound sign

to hire something = to rent something (like a car)

take-away = to go

braai = BBQ

harmless = decaf

rubbish = trash

marks = grades

mobile = cell phone

SMS = text

schlem = pain in the ass

minibus/taxi = a van that acts as a bus would but caters to personal stops (they tell us not to take these after 6 pm). they are often less than a dollar to ride.

cab = taxi/cab

furthermore, many people add "eh?" onto the end of sentences, much like we would say, "you know?" When you say "just now", it means that it is on my list of things to do at some point or other. When you say "now, now", it means I will do it right after I'm done with whatever I'm doing at the moment. In South Africa, if we decide to meet at 10, any time between 10-10:59 is on time. This is my kind of place.

But, perhaps my favorite saying is "TIA" which locals use quite often. It stands for "This is Africa." For instance, we were in the mall the other day and the elevator broke...TIA. We managed to fit 8 people into an already overstuffed minibus because the driver made us a deal. Every time someone on the bus had to get off, 5 of us would have to step out of and then back into the minibus...TIA.

I am incessantly asking G and Praise to repeat things that they say so I can have a South African accent. It's one of my goals before I leave. The accent sounds like a blend of Australian and British, and trying to speak it constantly feels like my brain is multitasking between the two. It is very friendly and upbeat, but apparently I have a ways to go because they always laugh when I attempt to speak like they do. I've got 5 months; no rush.

G, B & B at Springboks (the bar/club)

Praise, at the mall; he always orders the same thing: chicken wings and a coke from Nando's

Mac, Lindsey, Christina, and "Bryan".

They thought I was a guy at first because no one here knows the name Bryn.

The Adventures Begin

Tuesday evening, we attended a show that taught us a little about South African culture. Just as a reminder that the dancers are paid for a reason, they had volunteers attempt some of their dance moves. Oh boy.

Wednesday continued orientation. I will tell you about some of the things I have learned later on. We spent 4 hours at the bank setting up South African accounts. I am starting to see a pattern of slow moving, slightly disorganized service here. It is not terrible by any means, but online documentation and efficient customer support are not a top priority at the moment. Thus, registering as an American student, pursae, involves volumes of paperwork and bulletin board postings as opposed to a quick and easy blackboard account. Not to worry, though. The lack of a sense of urgency is actually quite refreshing. I find myself enjoying the slow transition time simply because that is how it is and impatience will do nothing but heighten my risk of heart disease (if you’re at all interested in this and you go to Tufts, take Stress, Emotions and Health by Heather Urry….fascinating).

We have a group of South African students, mostly 3^rd or 4^th years—“freshman, sophomore…etc mean nothing to t

hem here”—acting as our student mentors. They are each outgoing, engaging, and such a perfect connection to the culture. “G”, as we call him, and Charles live with us in the apartments. Machello

, or “Mac”, is my mentor. He calls us his “children” and he our mother. He claims that I am abusive to him because, in an attempt to enthusiastically describe my studies to him, I accidentally hit his arm with my oversized plastic water bottle. Since then, he calls me Bryan when I’m a bad child. We have some great laughs together. G and Charles hang out with us as though they are friends on the program. The difference is, they don’t look the wrong direction when waiting for traffic to cross the street (and other small details like that). J

Wednesday, after G and Praise, another mentor, took us shopping at the mall. Everything here is so cheap compared to America (they don’t call it “the states” like Europeans do). The program encourages us to try to think in terms of the rand rather than the dollar because we need to know how much things are here, not simply that they are less expensive than they would be at home. But, I can’t help but smile when I get a chicken wrap for dinner for the equivalent of $4.5

0.

Wednesday I went for a run with some friends. The weather is beautiful in the evening. There is a big marathon in Cape Town in April, so I know there are many places to run, but I have not a clue where they are at this point. So, I’ve set out to find other runners and ask them. I ran on, solo on Wednesday, trying to explore and followed a runner’s directions to what is called Rondebosch Commons, a 3k loop around a plain with a perfect view of UCT and Table Mountain. Even better, I found out that a running club has a 5k time trial there every Wednesday at 6 pm, and everyone is welcome. So that is where I will start. Perhaps I will join a running club and sign up for the marathon! Why not, right?

Wednesday night we went to a pool bar where we met many other American students and

other Cape Town locals. The bouncer there, Patrick, is friends with Charles and apparently

likes to “jog”. When I asked him about running routes he offered that we should run together! So my n

ew running buddy could very well be a 250 lb black man with dreads. I will keep you in touch with that one.

A Brief Update/ ADDRESS

After a wonderful week at Tufts in which I both: received complete closure and also realized that I am but a mere visitor on campus this semester, I headed to Dulles on a Sunday morning flight out of Logan. I'm thrilled to have gotten the chance to spend time with friends and give proper hugs and kisses before departing. I am reminded of what a wonderful place Tufts is, mostly because of the people that fill it's boundaries.

I will give you a breakdown:

- 7 am wake up, change, drive to Logan
- 9 am - 11 am BOS to Dulles
- 11 am - 4:40 pm wait in Dulles airport (met several group members here including Brittany with whom I caught up for a while)
- 4:40-5:30 board our plane (yes, of course, we maneuvered our way to sitting in our groups)
- then commenced a 16.5 hour plane ride, with a stop in Dakar
- at this point, no one really knew what time it was or was supposed to be, just that everyone all of a sudden was really friendly and had accents
- we re-checked our bags and boarded a 2 hour flight to Cape Town

In Cape Town, we were met by a wonderful crew and driven to the apartments we will be staying. I will give a better description later but the apartment buildings (courts, as they are called) are beautiful. My room has a couch and tv (what?!). I met some great new people, and I am thrilled to get to know the area in the next coming days. Tomorrow starts at 7:30 (about 4.5 hours away) with orientation...sleep is overrated, as I like to say. But, perhaps the sleepless lifestyle is ill-advised. We shall see! :)

Anyway, before I sign off and get some shut eye, here is my mailing address (know that you can also reach me via email at bryn.kass@gmail.com or BBM if you have it).


Bryn Kass
Room 7.42 Level 7
PD Hahn Building
Private Bag X 3, Rondebosch
Cape Town, Western Cape
7700
Republic of South Africa


if you need to reach me by phone, call

011-27-71-1615-149

From TU

To UCT

To Infinity and Beyond

I write this in school coffee shop on an oversized comfy-chair with two legs clad in warm leggings hanging off the armrest. Every morning, I wake up—not too late, but definitely not too early—in a warm bed with four blankets to make up for the lack of any sense of a proper-working heater in my apartment. The day, everyday, is filled to the brim with classes, practices, meetings, and the daily dose of dining hall. To me, this life is “normal”, usual for a student my age. Any other life seems irregular and foreign. What do I want to gain from my experience abroad? Simple: a new “normal”.

Perhaps the greatest difference between a tourist and a full-time student abroad is what each call “home”. Home is a place of identity, support, and comforting familiarity; it is a context in which things are regular. A tourist walks through the Uffizi Galleria in Florence or roams the royal castles in Stockholm as a visitor, wide-eyed and perhaps feeling a little out of place. For a student abroad, however, sunbathing on the beach in Barcelona or hiking to the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town are not out of ordinary, for those are the adventures that become regular, and those the places that become a part of “home”.

Regular does not mean boring or habitual. I want to wake up every morning with a sense of adventure. I want to explore breathtaking landscapes, meet a variety of new people, and learn about different ways of life. I want to browse the trinkets in Green Market Square, make friends with penguins at Boulders Beach, relive the past on Robben Island, shark cage dive in the Indian Ocean. I want to photograph for a day at the Cape Point Nature Reserve, observe a traditional ceremony at the Castle of Good Hope, be in awe of the aquatic life in the Two Oceans Aquarium. I want to do all of this and much much more, and I want this to be a “normal” part of my life, not as a visitor our tourist but as a local resident, immersed in a culture that I find hidden identity with. Let this be my pledge to take every opportunity that allows me to experience South African culture and all of the many adventures that Cape Town places at my doorstep.