Sunday's 9,000 ft high

Lenny drove the 3 of us to the start of the race at 6:15 am. When we arrived, we tried to join the porta-potty line for last minute wee, only to leave the line at 6:55 in order to start with everyone in the race. So, of course, on mile 2.5 I ducked behind some bushes on the side of the road (anyone who has ever run with me knows how typical that is). The run was great, very very windy (VERY WINDY), but gorgeous. It was right along the coast of the Indian Ocean about 85% of the time, ending in Simon's Town. This meant that we were totally exposed to the turbulent weather but also that we could not have had a better view of the coastline.

Thinking that the half marathon was scheduled for Saturday, not Sunday, I had planned skydiving for a group of us on Sunday. Once I found it, I had made up my mind that I was skydiving on Sunday and wouldn’t budge my plans. Thus, Sunday morning, around 9:15 am, Lenny and Sierra drove Mariah and me home. I arrived home at 10, did some computer things, showered, ate, and met everyone outside to hop in a van with our driver, Hershal, to head to Atlantis for skydiving.

They took us up in the oh-so-small plane in groups of 3 (there were six of us) and 3 jumping partners, guys who do this 6-10 times a day for years and years. My partner, Jason, started reading his book in the choppy 25-minuted plane ride up 9,000 ft. I started laughing, “You’re reading!?!”. He just smiled and replied, “Yeah, it’s a long ride.” I was Chatty Kathy the whole way up since talking helps me calm my nerves. Hellen, who was sitting next to me, quells her nerves other ways and Taylor, sitting behind me, was pretty focused as well, so most of the silence was filled with my usual questioning. “How many times do you jump a day? Has anyone ever refused to go? What book are you reading?”…etc.

Jason and I jumped first. With 3 minutes to go, he pulled me onto his lapped and attached our harness together in 4 places. Then he talked me through my simple job: head back, feet back, and keep breathing. They opened the door to the plane, and we sat there with our feet dangling as he readied the hand camera. At this point, I was so ready to go. You can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your preparing yourself for the biggest rush of your life. Then, he jumped. The energy I felt was undescribable, as if I could snatch the entire of the Capetonian coastline in my hand. The amazing thing about sky diving is that the fear of falling through the sky immediately leaves you once you fall. You are no longer worried about what will happen, only focused on what is happening in the moment that you are and how awesome that is.

I couldn’t stop shouting and laughing as we continued to soar over everything. The entire coast was in my sight, more beautiful than ever. Then, Jason pulled the parachute and we were pulled into a sitting position, still high above the earth. He let me steer the parachute and take us in 360 degree circles. After that, it’s the best 3 minutes of relaxed sightseeing I will ever have in my life. Jason and I had lively conversation the whole way down. To me, he was a man among men, a god, but to him, I was just another first-time jumper on an adrenaline rush.

We all completed the jumps and walked away with our hand-camera videos. We were still soaring when we jumped in Hershal’s van and headed back home. I finally felt the weight of the day’s events and immediately fell asleep in the van, much to no one’s surprise.

Later Sunday evening I went to Church on Main with Malory and Sarah, and then Rafe gave me a ride to a traditional eggs on toast dinner, hosted by one of the elders of the church, Dave, and his wife, Meg. Of course, I showed the skydiving video to Mitch, Mark, and Greg, all of us squished in the back seat of Rafe’s car. In fact, I couldn’t stop talking about it all night. How was I to respond to the question, “How was your weekend?” It was great to simple relax and make good conversation. I listened to Dave’s stories of his 3 month stay in California when he got a job parking fancy cars without a driver’s license. It was the perfect way to end an amazing weekend.

The Start of a Crazy Weekend

Thursdays at 1 pm (“meridian”) on Jammie plaza at UCT, something phenomenal takes place. That’s just the way things are here. This week was a relay race, sledding down Jammie plaza steps, knocking down water bottles, eating (“smashing”) pizza as quickly as possible, and doing the wheelbarrow while bobbing for balls. It was quite entertaining to say the least, and every Thursday draws a large crowd.

Thursday afternoon at 2, I was supposed to volunteer to help 2 way travel company lead semester at sea students up Lion’s Head, but, due to strong winds, they could not dock that day. So, instead, Duncan, Trevor, and I hike up Lion’s Head ourselves, with bellies full of pb&j sandwiches meant for semester at sea students. We had a nice leisurely stay at the summit before heading down the mountain. Over a beer after our hike, I learned about cricket, slang, and the academic/job arena in South Africa. Later that night we ventured to Casablanca and then a bar called Tin Roof for some good ol’ fashioned dancing.

Friday was a pool day and then again yo-yoga. The flow class we attended was phenomenal. On our way back, we stopped at Cocoa Wah Wah to refuel our stomachs. I happily scarfed down the feta cheese, couscous, and butternut squash wrap. Then, Ilana, Georgie, Taylor, and I spent the evening cuddling in Georgie’s bed, trying to figure out travel plans for the coming weeks. It’s overwhelming how many places we want to go.

Saturday, Mariah and I went to the Sports Warehouse to pick up our racing numbers. Since we don’t have a car, we decided to run there, only to become last and add a mile to our route (surprised?). We received our numbers and walked home in close to the same amount of time it took us to run there. Then, Taylor, Harry, Jack and I hopped on a train to Muizenberg, a beach on the Indian Ocean, for an afternoon with surf club. The waves weren’t very merciful towards us—the strong current that day had them stacked on top of each other every several seconds—and we were quite exhausted trying to avoid their harsh breaks, but it was a fun day. We must keep practicing.

Saturday evening, Sierra and Lenny picked Mariah and me up and took us out to an Italian dinner with Lenny’s parents, Lynne and Len (whom I had had breakfast with the week before). They are such delightful company, and we had a great carb-filled meal in preperation for the Peninsula Half Marathon that the 3 of us were to run on Sunday. Sierra had invited us to spend the night at their house in Constantia because we had to wake up so early the next day. The estate they live on is breathtaking. I can’t even begin to tell you how beautiful it is. They were the most generous of hosts, and Mariah and I were giddy at our luxurious accommodations and our choice of breakfast foods at 5 am on Sunday morn.

Lion's Head Crazies

The other day, after class, we hiked Lion’s Head, which is arguably the least amount of effort for the best view. It is a great hike; we tried blazing our own trail for a while before we finally caught up with the real path. They even created a quasi-rock climbing option with substantial handgrips and chains up the rock race. The view is spectacular.

When we got to the top, we found a German trick biker, popping wheelies and doing jumps on the rocks overlooking the rocks and shrubbery many many feet below. It was thrilling to even watch. Apparently, he just does this for sport and his friend photographs him. I told him he should submit these pictures to sports illustrated. They would be a hit; perhaps that spoils the fun in it.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine’s Day was our first real day of classes. I’ve finalized my schedule: African Dance, Ancient Mythology, and Health Psychology. African Dance is all American but I’m looking forward to it for entertainment purposes. Psychology is always interested (I am a psych major), and I’m thrilled to learn about the subject from a Safrican perspective. Then there is Ancient Mythology which was randomly picked but has turned out to be great. The lecturer is young but very on top of her game, which is a refreshing difference from much of the school system here. So far we have learned about mythological origins (aka powerful creatures reproducing). Because it is not a class about Africa, there is a great mix of American and local students in the class. Hopefully it will be a good way to meet other people.

Monday evening 8 of us, a very usual crowd of girls whom I’ve come to really love spending time with, made reservations at a great Italian restaurant on the waterfront called Balducci’s. “Abes”, our regular cab driver called last minute to say he was very behind, so we frantically hailed a mini-bus and told the driver we would pay him 120 rand if he took us straight to the waterfront without stopping to pick up anyone else on the way. That is a lot of money for he and his collector so they happily agreed. There were 2 problems. First, they didn’t have enough gas, so, much to our disappointment and even in the midst of our impatient backseat driving, they pulled into a gas station. Sensing our hurry, the driving kept the car running while the assistant starting yelling out of the window to get service as soon as possible. We were all waiting for the car to burst into flames at that point. Then, we continued on, only to realize that the driver didn’t know the first thing about how to get to the waterfront. The minibus we were on did not have a regular route continuing there. So, of course, the driver began yelling out the window to people in cars adjacent to us to see if they would know of how to get there. Funny thing was, he need only ask us; we have been there before directly from Cape Town.

After many wrong turns, we arrived at the restaurant and had a beautiful meal. It wasn’t complete without a toast,

“On Valentine’s Day, you are supposed to be with the people you love. This is a toast to our families, our friends, and our significant others who we cannot be with right now but who are here with us in our hearts. And this is to us, learning to love each other one day at a time.”

Well, it was something like that at least.

Continuing, Monday night I went to homegroup and learned about Zimbabwe. Did you know that, for a while, they were using a 100 trillion “dollar” bill because inflation was so high? Now they use the American dollar, but bills not cents at all.

Wednesday, we had more class and then took a bikram yoga class at a studio and Claremont. It was fun!

Our Very Own Half Marathon

On Friday night, after our first day of classes, we went to Big Bash, a huge outdoor party put on by UCT in the middle of Green Market Square downtown. The DJ was great, everyone was dancing, and, best of all, they had an entire stage devoted to table tennis. Brittany and I barely lost to my friend Mitch and his friend David when I missed the table on a clutch shot. I will never forgive myself. Of course, I made myself feel better with a good ol’ fashioned face painting.

Saturday, I went kayaking with some girls from IES and CIEE in Simon’s Town, farther down the coast on the Indian Ocean. The beaches there are breathtaking and the water temperature is perfect, but they take quite a long time to get to on crowded trains. It’s worth it in the end, but I can’t keep myself awake during those long rides. I suppose that extra sleep is well-received by every part of me besides my impatience. I met some new faces and had the opportunity to snorkel, swim, and bask in the Indian Ocean waters. Then, of course, we stopped for fish and chips (which I didn’t know until now are actually fries) for lunch.

Right when I got back Saturday, I changed clothes, washed my face, and ran to the Jammie stop to catch a lift to Sunset Jam, another UCT sponsored concert at a park in Newlands. It was right out of Woodstock. We walked through a clearing to this open span of lawn and right up to Bob Marley’s identical twin and his band jamming away to an eager, hippie audience. Of course, the short and sweet evening included a human train singing “don’t worry about a thing”. We left in good spirits and went for a wonderful dinner at Café Sofia.

On Thursday, after Sax Appeal, I went to coffee with Sierra, who is from California but now married to a South African ex-pro tennis players and lives in Cape Town. It was so great to spend time with her and see the worlds collide in the span of 2 hours. On Sunday Sierra picked me up at 6 am and drove me to Sea Point, right on the ocean front. With her running group, we ran 22 kilometers (roughly 13.6 miles) up the coast, to Camps Bay and then back to our cars. I was thrilled to be able to run by the ocean, and she was great company, telling me all about her brilliant life in Cape Town and elsewhere.

Then, we had breakfast with her husband Lenny and Lenny’s parents Lynne and “Len”. They taught me so much about South African life and recent history. I asked them about the effect of the Apartheid on everyday life here and for the different populations throughout South Africa. It’s amazing to compare it to American history because here everything is very new and the ramifications are still very evident today. You don’t need a textbook to learn about it; you just need a few friendly South Africans and a great muesli breakfast.

Selling Sax

Wednesday night we went to Trinity, a club in Green Point. It was more of a scene than any other place we had gone to. Instead of dancing on dingy bar tables, I felt as though I was at P-Diddy’s birthday party. It was very cool, but there was an taste of self-consciousness in the atmosphere surrounding the place. In places like that it seems you have to be wearing the right brands, be with the right people, be doing the right thing. I commend anyone who has the energy to live that lifestyle. Of course, we arrived home around 2 and I hit the hay around 2:30 AM.

I woke up at 3:30 AM, changed and got a lift from my friend Rafe to the lower campus Jammie (UCT shuttle) stop where hundreds of Safrican freshmen were waiting, sporting scandalous clothing. We were to be shipped off to random places for the day to sell Sax Appeal magazines, an annual publication created by UCT students about sex and everything associated, to raise money for charity. When I say random, I mean random. Of course, the bus we chose to go on just happened to be the farthest from campus, and after about an hour of driving, we were dropped in front of a robot (stop light) on a highway somewhere in Somerset West. Don’t ask me where that is.

Then we spent the next 5 hours approaching cars asking, and then pleading, them to buy magazines for 20 rand. We tried bargaining, guilt-tripping, and even a bit of harassing to try to receive support. It was a day full of hilarious bonding with the people in my sax appeal group as well as frustration at the fact that we received so much attention and so little financial support. It was especially hard being the only girl because, as you can guess, our clothing was not usual Safrican dress code. In 5 hours, I sold a mere 17 magazines, made 5 new great friends, didn’t eat a single bit, and nearly cried 3 times. It was quite the experience. Luckily my friend Dylan was great company on the long bus ride back, enlightening me on good places to travel in Safrica while everyone else slept.

The Peak of The Devils

On Tuesday, we hiked Devil's Peak, a route that not many have done, simply because most of it doesn't resemble a trail so much as a rock climb to the top. With 45 people it was pretty impressive to hustle everyone up the mountain at a decent pace. We hit the summit after about 3.5 hours and then had another 2.5 hours hiking down. I was very keen on teaching everyone contact (a word game) on our trip down but was reminded that "most people don't talk so much while they are hiking". Right.

It made me want to be back in Colorado on Outward Bound, although, I was very happy for a warm shower at the end of the day.

Wining, Dining, and Being 5 Years Old Again

Monday we went Wine Tasting in Stellenbosch, just outside Cape Town. The South African wine industry produces about 1,000,000,000 litres of wine annually. Stellenbosch is the primary location for viticulture and viticulture research. The day got off to a rocky start when our train was delayed an hour due to vandalism. But, fear not, I spent the time reading Dontevenreply.com to our group in a voice too loud to be socially acceptable.

When we eventually arrived in Stellenbosch to go bike touring/wine tasting, our day had to be significantly shortened. Yet, when we finally arrived at a place to just hang out, it was as if we were puppies let loose in piles and piles of kibble. We were so obnoxiously jolly and giddy, about nothing at all really…except for the fact that it was quite hot and we were all a bit tipsy and so excited to be in such a beautiful place. The pictures don’t do the moment justice.

It was a hilarious day, full of random bouts of laughter and a few spills (love you, Leigh). We saw beautiful landscapes and not so beautiful train stations, and in the end, all was still well with the world upon our return.

That evening we went to Cocoa Wah Wah, a café that gives internet vouchers upon any purchase, to upload pictures. With all of us sitting there, typing away on our Macs (sorry, Izzy), I felt like I was in Tisch Library again. I couldn’t help but smile out loud at that.

Adult World in CT = Dunkins in MA

After OBM (Old Biscuit Mill, get with the lingo) on Saturday, the 5th, I convinced everyone to walk with me to Adult World. Why? Well, because there are at least 5 Adult Worlds on the way to Cape Town proper alone and I wanted to know what all of the fuss was about. I thought the store was near the market. Quite the contrary; after 45 minutes of walking we arrived at the very closed off, dodgy-looking building and went inside for a little over 5 minutes, enough time to laugh at the fact that we had just walked 45 minutes to..well, Adult World. But, at least now I can say I've seen a bit more of Cape Town.

Later that day, I went over to Charles' and Gee's apartment, and we sat outside on plastic chairs, underneath their umbrella and just chatted for 2 hours. At one point, Gee brought out his guitar and played while I sang along to Enrique and Lauren Hill (at least we know some of the same music) and Charles made us tuna melts. It was such a wonderful afternoon.

After another night at Springboks, and Church on Main the next day, we went to Muizenberg, a beautiful beach on the Indian Ocean. Taylor and I took a long walk down the beach. The sand seems to run forever, and you can just get lost in the unending beauty of it all. It's also a great place to collect sea shells! One thing I did notice- and take note of this- was the immediate, seemingly random, disappearance of the surfers in the water. It wasn't until I noticed the flag in the water that I realized the severity of the emptiness. Apparently that little flag is enough to tell every surfer in the water that a shark is about to give them a love bite. Good to know.

Of course, the day wasn't complete without half-off sushi at Beluga. Abraham, or "Abes", as we like to call him, is our new go-to driver. We were all starving from a day in the sun and had a great meal full of sushi and good laughs.

Church on Main

So, as it turns out, Nicci and Tash, who Mariah and I met at the time trial a couple weeks ago, invited us to go to "sundowners" at Clifton 4, a great beach in Cape Town. We were more excited to actually drive there than anything else, to tell you the truth. Little did I know, this was an event through their church, Church on Main. Everyone there was so friendly and genuine towards us. It became a long-running private joke between me and my Safrican friend Christianna (and later others) that I would try to hold off as long as possible without the locals knowing I was American....just a lot of "ja ja"s and "heectic broo". Or I would throw in an "azwell" or "kiff, trousers there, hey?"

I enthusiastically agreed to go their church on campus that Sunday and loved it. Malory, my new found friend acts as a selfless chauffeur for many first years (and now and American), treking us to and from church and youth group events like it is nothing. The church has a great vibe. It makes faith something personal, not something institutionalized. And, the people are so real and passionate and, at the same time, openminded and free spirits. Above all, I am so excited to join this wonderful group of people, in any setting, but especially in their church.

Since then, I've continued going to church services, youth group get-togethers, and homegroup meetings. Malory and some friends gave me a lift to a beautiful beach just the other day after church. Every Sunday after the morning service on campus, people picnic on the lawn and just spend time together. Sunday evening is a service in Claremont for the whole church, but most of the older population attends the morning services in Claremont (not the UCT service), so this service is predominantly college-middle aged people, all barefoot and sporting a tshirt and shaggy, free-flowing hair. It's just my vibe.

Capetonian Academic Organisation

First, yes, it is spelled with an “s” here.

Let me brief you on registering for classes here…

You are given a handbook with classes in it. All semesters are listed so you have to be sure that you are not signed up for an “S” course (second semester, not spring), “W” (whole year), or “H” (half semester) course, even though these classes comprise about 2/3 of the booklet. The syllabi in the handbook are posted with the class titles but do not say during what days the classes take place. Most have recorded their time period, but some do not. None of them have listed the location or the dates/times of any tutorials. Some have listed how many days a week they meet, but often this is falsely recorded. So that’s your handbook. Good luck picking classes.

Registration times are sorted by last name, but in reality it’s a first come, first served basis. So, on registration day at 8 am, we sat at the beginning of the line for an hour. Then, when the doors opened there were 4 separate lines to check in A-B, C-D, E-F, G-H students and then one more line for I-Z last names. Nice work. Then, you shuffle through chairs for another half hour filling out forms. The “advisor” who signs off your forms just checks to make sure that none of your classes are the same period. Good? Great. Signature.

Then you wait in line to get your peoplsoft password (like blackboard), but you still don’t have internet set up on your computer at UCT, so that needs to be done later. In order to get your ID card (which they make right then and there), you must wait in line for anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. We all did that, only to find out that there had been another place to get ours done without any line at all on the other side of campus all along.

Of course, even after registering, you don’t know where or when your classes are, so you must wait until they are posted on each individual department board in different buildings around campus. The departments are listed on a campus map if you are lucky enough to get your hands on one. If you, like me, are just looking to have simple classes that, for the most part don’t take place on Fridays, you must go around to each department and take mobile photos of the individual class times and venues to make sure of your schedule.

Lastly, if you want to add/drop a course you must wait in another line to get an approval from an advisor, but that’s only if you remembered to print out your unofficial transcript. And then there is the process of getting text books and course readers…

TIA.

Thursday was burger day

First of all, the club captain of the Celtic Harriers delivered my keys to me last week.

Thursday 10/02 : we took a tour of Long Street, a “major street in the City Bowl section of Cape Town. It is famous as a bohemian hangout, and the street is lined with many bookstores, various ethnic restaurants, and bars. Perhaps the highlight of our tour was Café Royale, a well-known burger establishment. These are no ordinary burgers, and their classics are half off from 4-6 pm (good to know if you’re visiting). I even managed to pick up some African tunes from a local music shop.

Then we went dancing at our usual favorite dance bar, Springboks. For those of you who know me well, you know I'm a huge fan of film scores. The DJ at Springboks always plays a House (type of music) version of "Skull and Crossbones", written by Klaus Badelt and featured in Pirates of the Caribbean. It would be an understatement to say, I thoroughly enjoy every moment of that song. What is interesting is the way men dance here. In the states, it is very accepted that, in a dance setting, women, often dancing with other women, will be approached by men. Here, men dance with each other just as often as women do, and to be approached by someone is very forward and outright. Social norms when it comes to treatment of the opposite gender are quite different here

Breaking the First Rule of Thumb

The first thing you learn as a child – after, of course, “don’t put that in your mouth” and “just say NO”—is “Don’t get into cars with strangers”. Oops. But, of course, behind every major mess-up in my life, there is a majorly hilarious tale to be told. Hence, allow me to amuse you. Last Sunday, as you may have read, I spotted a young female runner as I was searching for less-boring routes and asked her where she was coming from. She told me about a time trial 5k every Wednesday at 6 pm at the Rondebosch Commons with the Celtics running club. I convinced my running buddy Mariah to run there with me (about a 10 minute run away) to do the trial.

It was quite fun, and I was excstatic when, after the race, we met up with the young runner that I had seen the week before. Her name is Nikki, and she and 4 of her friends run on Wednesdays. They were so friendly and sincerely interested in what we were doing here and how we were getting by. The club had announcements and a prize drawing…therewas a man there in the most outlandish, but fabulous, track suit I have ever seen…anyway, by that point, I was so excited by our new find that I could talk about nothing but how we had to add this to our weekly schedule on our way running back home.

About a quarter mile from home, I was about to tell Mariah about running in Florence with my keys everyday when we both realized: I didn’t have my keys with me. I had put them in a small key collection cubby before we started the trial so I wouldn’t have to run with them.

We sprinted back a mile to the commons where we found a desolate plain of grass and no runners in track suits to be found. I saw a couple men in running gear and asked them if they knew how I could get a hold of the club. One of the men, who we later found out is named Andrew, offered to give us a lift to the club house without hesitation. Now you must understand, at this point, I had conflicting motives. The do’s and don’ts of life just continue to grow as you get older and although I knew “never get in cars with strangers”, I couldn’t help but think about “Never lose your keys, especially if they have private information on them”.

So, of course I responded, “Oh my gosh. That would be so great!”. To tell you the truth, the only thing that seemed somewhat strange was the fact that he entered the driver’s side on the right.

Andrew drove us 15 minutes down the road to the club house, all the while talking to us and telling us about South Africa and his life in Durban. When we got to the club house, the club captains were out and, to make matters worse, Andrew’s phone lost battery suddenly. So, of course, Andrew had to give me rand to use the pay phone line and had to help us search to find a number to call. When no one picked up, I left a message and we got back into the car to drive back.

On the way out of the club, we ran into Andrew’s wife’s (Cindy, is her name) friend and the friend’s kids. It was quite comical really to be waving awkwardly in the car as Andrew rolled down the window and said, in the most nonchalant tone I’ve heard, “Oh yeh, Bren heah has lahst heh keys sow we ah trah-ying to git her sowted owt.” Then, Andrew found out that his long time friend was coaching the rugby team playing on the field so we stopped to wave to him as well. I wonder what Cindy thought about all of this.Andrew drove us all the way back to the commons even though he lived in the other direction and then Mariah and I ran home and arrived at 8:15 pm. We had left at 5:45. I told Charles of what happened, and I was let into my apartment the master-key man…named Andrew. Thank god for all of you Andrews out there.

I ran to the clubhouse tonight, a little over 3 miles away in a different part of town. I had contacted them beforehand and was supposed to meet the club captain who has my keys, but he was stuck in a meeting. It rained for the first time since we’ve been here this evening so, by the time I arrived I was sopping. When I found out the captain would not be in, I made arrangements to retrieve my keys from him later and was about to head out the door when the nice woman at the desk told me I should not be running in that area of town holding my phone (I had brought it in case I got lost on the way). So, she made me put it in a little plastic baggie and safety pin it to my shorts. She looked very worried. It felt like a long run home in the rain.

So, although I don’t have my keys, I’ve met many very kind people on the way to finding them. It’s amazing the friends you make when you’re desperately in need.

This is where Mariah and I ran a few evenings ago (after following 3 men who looked like they knew where they where). We were so excited to find such a beautiful place. It is a memorial to English-born South African politician Cecil John Rhodes (1853-1902).

The inscription on the monument is "To the spirit and life work of Cecil John Rhodes who loved and served South Africa". Along with that, there is a stanza from the 1902 poem Burial by Rudyard Kipling in honour of Rhodes. It quite enchanted me.

The immense and brooding spirit still,

Shall quicken and control.

Living he was the land, and dead,

His soul shall be her soul.

And this was the view looking out onto Cape Town from the memorial. We were speechless.