Sunday April 10th, 2005, UWC Dorm Room 12:31 AM

Interesting weekend, but first the weekday update.

Monday in my UWC Gender Studies class we started a movie on the women’s part of the Zimbabwean struggle for liberation. A “docu-drama” (fictitious movie based on real people and facts and events) it was roughly filmed and the accents were thick enough that I didn’t catch a good part of the dialogue but as with most things, the plot was understood without the words. It was interesting but nothing new. Rape as a war method, male to female soldier rape, the silence surrounding it, the question of why someone would rather be shot than raped and why in a shooting there is a clear victim to everyone, and in rape the lines are blurred for some people. Interesting stuff, but the professor admittedly backed down before she got too “feminist” on the class. It never ceases to amaze me how women still remain hesitant to take an adamant stand for their rightful place and space.

After that I moved into the library for the day after being away for the break. I played catch up and continued this trend for the rest of the week. I applied for more “real life” jobs, pretending to try to make a post-HWS plan but only seem to forecast thunderstorms of anxiety when I think about this topic. I'm not really certain where I'm going to take life as there are a variety of scenarios on the table, so your love and support (and job offers) are much appreciated.

Wednesday night, since Thelma Pinto had returned to the states for a conference in Colorado, the BIDS class was cancelled and in its place HWS covered dinner and a comedy show at “On Broadway” in Sea Point. We met at 6:45 in our “smart casual” wear (which for some was an interesting ensemble of bra straps and extra cleavage) and headed out. However the night would turn out, there was a beautiful sunset over UWC this night and I tried valiantly to capture it on film.



Our table was the first to sit and order by (at least) 7:30 and even though both the other two tables were served and finished eating, we did not receive our food until slightly before the 9 pm start of the show. Not only did I receive an un-“fresh” tomato basil mozzarella “salad” (without salad greens to speak of, aged, sliced mozzarella, and a basil pesto sauce that was supposed to consist of my dinner), the comedian proved to leave much to be desire.

Speaking largely in Afrikaans and making an uproariously funny joke about Americans upon announcing our presence, the rest of the evening consisted of a string of characters epitomizing the stereotypes of South African men and women mostly from the colored community. Now I openly admit I have a mal-/underdeveloped sense of humor and I don’t find mainstream comedy very funny but I can usually hide it or avoid it, thus not calling attention to myself. Yet in this particular circumstance I was sitting right next to the center stage, hoping desperately he was not going to be one of those comedians who picked on the front-row-sitters.

So because of this mal-/underdeveloped sense of humor I didn’t laugh much at all, and even found myself slightly taken aback by some of his more vulgar/offensive jokes. (While Dunbar laughed heartily away next to me) I know it’s comedic way of life to make stereotypical jabs at groups of people, genders, ages, races, religions – but I really really don’t find jokes like that funny. This, though, is not the general consensus and I know for sure others at my (hungry) table were fully amused by his jokes and antics.

One brief comment on the South African food service industry and their lack of decent customer service skills. Our food took an hour and a half to arrive and our waiter did nothing (not even apologize until we cornered him for some sort of restitution) to appease the situation in any way. SA waitstaff work on the same tip-based system the US does but they do nothing to work at increasing the possibility of upping the amount. Service is inconsistent at best, and it could very well hinge on the fact, learning from our South African friends, South Africans hardly complain when their food is not up to par, and instead just settle for it, pay the bill with the requisite 10% and simply vow not to return.

Americans, on the other hand, are quick to insist on top quality personal attention to detail when their food is involved. Unfortunately for the waiter if I specify whole grain bread lightly toasted, butter on the side, with a well-done over-hard egg and I get wheat bread well-toasted and buttered with a runny egg it takes me all of two seconds to send it back for what I intend to pay for. This does not apply for South Africans which is why, I believe, the food service industry does not strive to attain the same high quality customer service you often find in the states.

Needless to say, while it was nice to leave campus for the evening, a night out at the comedy club was not top on my list of things to do, and nor will it be a particularly memorable evening in Cape Town. Thankfully though, it was the last time the entire group of us have to gather and move somewhere all together. Ending the night after the disappointing food and lackluster comedic performance was welcomed, and we settled into the remainder of the week with steady resolve.

Thursday and Friday afternoon passed without much excitement. I had a mini freak-out about more post-HWS life to Crystal but with determination we worked through the various scenarios and possibilities and options, mulled over the consequences and emerged feeling better and even a little excited. (Not that there was any resolution…)

Shaun swung by around 8:30 picking Rebecca Crystal and I up for a night of games at his friend Asim’s house. We got there and greeted another couple (Rob and someone…) who were there for a Settlers of Catan challenge. Playing through two rounds on teams, Rebecca and I tied for last with Shaun and Crystal, and then we came in an admirable third in the last round. It was really a lot of fun and I had a great time with Rebecca (who has just started coming out with us…and after last night, may hesitate a bit if I ask her to come along again…)

After Catan we bid farewell to the couple (Rob said we were the nicest Americans he’d ever met…) and riled up for a round of Jenga. Threatening shots of tequila for the loser, I, of course, knocked the 32-story-record-high game without even managing to find a loose brick.















Having been saved from the tequila by taking a shot of sour apple, we played another round, tossed the idea of going out (as it neared 3 am) and instead took a walk on the beachfront located right outside the back patio area. It was tumultuously windy and quite a bit cold (though nothing by home standards) and I found there were quite a few jellyfish washed ashore!

They were the size of large dinner plates and really gross. I poked one and it wasn’t as jelly-ish as I had anticipated, finding it instead sort of hard jelly. There were a bunch located all over the beach and we shrieked in fear of stepping on one of them. (After I stepped on a snail making his way innocently across the planks of the path…) The night waned down and the three of us stayed over in order to start our day early the next morning.

Saturday started around 9:30 for me, and I was amazed to find it was a beautifully clear day and Table Mountain loomed larger and clearer than I remembered.



We left Asim’s with many thanks and so much appreciation for his kindness and headed to Mugg and Bean for breakfast where Shaun and his tequila-eyes was having a hard time encouraging his stomach to accept his food. After heading into the city for the (yet another) market where I wanted to grab up this necklace I so dearly wanted to acquire. We arrived and split up, Shaun stayed in his car to nap, I went over to the market to peruse, and Becca and Crystal headed to the internet café to check email.

Finding the necklace that had haunted me was no longer where I remember it, I wandered around the stalls thinking about the few people I had left on my list to buy for, and instead ended up with new clothes items for myself. I haven’t though, spent much money on myself in the last few weeks and they were special items I had wanted to pick up.

I bought a pair of flowy Thai fishing pants that are RED and a beautifulbeautifulbeautiful shimmery colorful skirt that I had seen before but she was out of any sizes larger than a small. This may replace the previous “graduation outfit” plan I’d made and is really really wonderful. I picked up a gift for someone else and a long sleeve shirt for myself from a surf shop and was generally really pleased with my purchases. I met back up with Becca and Crystal and we scouted out Shaun and from Cape Town headed out into the Stellenbosch area to find wineries that offered cheese tasting.

Finding one at Fairview, (allegedly very “touristy”) we parked and were amazed to find a goat in a tower before us! Posing with his tall horns and long beard he was unequivocally the perfect billy goat gruff. We entered and for 15R got a glass of fresh grape juice (and inadvertently a taste of some wine) plus access to the 6 cheeses of the day! There were two goat’s milk cheeses, a mushroom brie, and the shining star of the offering, a cheddar infused with blue cheese veins. Cringingly sharp but really good I do believe it was the mass consumption of this cheese that went straight to my head and left my giggly for the rest of the day.





We left there and headed to a butterfly farm down the road, finding rather, more excitement in the guinea pig/rabbit enclosure. Like little toupees running around we tried to pick one up to cuddle and instead had to rely on the little girl also in with us to catch them. I did manage to grab a little furball baby guinea pig that was adorable but it was the adults I was more interested in. The animals here really really captivate me for some reason.







We did manage to hold an adult and I had to resist the urge to put it on my head and model the toupee-ness of it. We headed out after that to another winery that was hosting a wedding. They had some beautiful Cape Town/Table Mountain posters that I couldn’t resist (and potentially paid too much for) but that will complement any living room arrangement in my future.

We headed out of the (always very beautiful) winelands and into Somerset West to pick up foods for the braai celebrating Shaun’s friend Justin’s girlfriend Helet’s birthday. (got that?) Pick n’ Pay was closed so we scouted Woolworth’s but I was slightly unimpressed with the offering and we decided on sweet potato/chick pea burgers for us, and to come without a gift in hand.

Arriving we found the rugby game still on and that most of the people there already had been drinking since 2 pm, the start of the game prior. We greeted and shook hands and were welcomed into the home of Helet’s parents for what would start an evening of absurdity (in a good way though…mostly…).

Becca and I got in conversation with Michelle, Helet’s heavyset, short haired sister who had spent 5 months in Upstart New York on a farm watching the daughter of the homeowners. It sounded as though she didn’t have the best time but was interested in returning as soon as possible and having a different experience. When I asked her what she missed most about the States (expecting Starbucks or something like that) she told me “the freedom you guys have to go anywhere, to access anything and to be or not be around things of your choice. Here I'm stuck in more ways than one” which I thought was really really interesting to hear from a white (Africana) South African.

On the wall was displayed the pre-1994 South African flag that was green and orange and white bars with mini-flags of Britain, Portugal, and the other SA colonizers down the middle. Michelle gestured to it and said, “Bet you have never seen that before, that was our flag before, we still respect it because it’s part of our history, it’s part of us”

Crystal continued to gab away with Helet’s father while Becca and I started conversation with Michelle’s friend (whose name I never acquired) about how she didn’t really like South Africa at all and instead wanted to leave for Ireland (in which she spent 2 years studying) and the sooner the better as far as she was concerned.

It was about this time that the rugby game ended and the really loud (and often in-Afrikaans) music started and conversation became strained and I found myself feeling hoarse trying to talk to people. Becca and I moved outside for some “fresh air” where we found solace in the quiet. Encouraged to come back in by the smells of the in-room brick oven braai setup we realized Helet’s really wonderful mother had grilled up our veggie burgers first (thus saving us from the funk of meat drippings) and we were able to nab some food. Feeling a bit awkward with our plates and inability to hear ourselves think, we again retreated to the front lawn finding we did not escape unnoticed and we started to accumulate a little party around us made up of Shaun and Lenore and Crystal and some guy with whom Crystal was arguing about fishing. Feeling a little like that scene in Garden State where the main guy is sitting on the couch and the party is revolving around him at a frantic pace (though our experience was without the addition of drugs or alcohol). We felt a little like we were in the Twilight Zone, frankly.

The burgers though, they were something to comment on. Grilled to a crunchy perfection and with the addition of the soft wheat rolls I think Becca and I realized just how far heaven could reach. A yummy sprout and feta filled salad and a final addition of sweet rolls at the end, the food was fabulous as well was the company, but in a different sort of way. Finding ourselves a magnet for random (and seemingly unpredictable) conversation for sitting outside we had quite the increasing-in-strange interactions with various patrons.

One guy who was born in SA but left at 6 years old for Portugal had recently returned in the last year and wanted to have random conversation about how it was so hard for him to make a living in South Africa. We asked him with (vague, but forced) interest about any perceived differences from the past until now and he recounted a story of walking on the separate side of the street from the blacks but noted (seemingly with pride) the significant and apparent changes since democracy in 1994. He had actually expected more racism from whites and less integration but in his words “it’s all so mixed up here”. He talked about how in Portugal it was still ok to call blacks, “blacks” and to tell them to do certain jobs as a white person, and that even though it wasn’t the same as SA, he didn’t think things were going to change there.

I don’t know much about Portugal (honestly I'm not even sure where it is exactly) and I was (unfortunately) sustaining conversation for the simple fact I didn’t want him awkwardly standing there while Becca and I wondered what dimension we had accidentally stumbled into. He did mourn the job market (most likely due to black empowerment laws) and his inability to gain a decent paying job and fantasized about leaving SA again, but not for Portugal.

Because the part devolved into Dance Party 2005 I was hesitant to return inside although I did toss around the idea of simply grabbing my camera and playing paparazzi for the evening to alleviate the strangeness but I didn’t want to be the weird American behind the camera. Finding I was on the same wavelength as another guy there (though I think he just wanted an excuse to show off his new 7000R Nikon digital camera he bought from B and H photo (we’ll get to his story a bit later)) who entered with his camera around his neck.

Now, anyone who knows me knows I don’t go in for the whole dance party, loud music, getting-trashed sort of scene so I was feeling a bit out of place (and was very thankful for Becca’s similar mentality and presence). But we made the most of it and I couldn’t stop laughing at the whole scene for the life of me. Kept company by Shaun and Lenore and various others who wandered out, we actually had quite a good time enjoying the whole hilarious series of events we were experiencing.

Once Crystal and her conversations found their way out to our reclusive group of lawn-sitters though, and the conversation was getting a bit too ridiculous for me I insisted Becca and I go scout out the interior excitement, and we happened upon an unshaven older man who was the least pleasant of the entire night.

He caught by our accents that we weren’t South African and proceeded to blatantly talk down to us and our culture in a variety of demeaning ways. Now it’s fairly hard to move me to be malicious but had I not been the guest in a very kind family’s house I would have told his much-older man exactly what to do with his unwelcome insults. Even on his way out of the party, finding us again outside on the lawn, he made it clear we knew nothing for being American, we were useless and made sarcastic comments about whatever he could make a dig at. Most unpleasant South African ever.

We did, however, have a really interesting conversation with a guy who was simply genuinely interested in interacting with an American – he asked simple questions comparing the two countries, and wanted to know all about where I was from and when I asked, “Well what do you want to know about”, he would tell me, “Just tell me anything, I like to listen, I like hearing whatever you have to tell me”. So I told him about Buffalo’s chicken wings, and Niagara Falls and the snow and how property and car prices were better here and that there was more to New York State than NYC, there were forests and gorges and lakes.

Then his friend wandered over (after his girlfriend defensively made out with him in front of us) and said, “Holy shit I can’t believe we had AMERICANS right here in front of us”, to which we just laughed off (it was well into the night of laughing-off and at many things). But he managed to wind into some conversation about how we must love Mandela but didn’t we think he was just a kaffir? (Kaffir is a South African derogatory name for black people, you probably can guess the US equivalent.) Unable to answer him simply because I was thrown by (and unsure of) the intent of his question/statement he noticed this and went on to wonder if didn’t we as white Americans still use derogatory words in exclusive company? because even though it was illegal in SA to use the word, “and you could even get thrown in jail for it, we still use it when we’re in places like this, around our own people”.

Completely thrown off, I launched into a history lesson of the United States civil rights situation and the cultural differences between the Northern and Southern states and how because of where I'm from and the way my family has been raised we have not and do not use words like that and have no interest in doing so. I understand that it’s only been 10 years since the laws and sentiments have been forced to change, and we’ve had 50 or so years to work it out. He agreed and (thankfully) moseyed on his way.

The party turned into Techno-Rave Dance Party 2005 and I felt like I should have had a glowstick in my mouth and glitter on my face. Becca and I retreated to a newly anti-social space, the darkened den, hoping we wouldn’t be dragged into any more random conversations, content with how things had gone.

The evening really continued on much as described, with other strange conversations and interactions shaping the look and feel of the night. Feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland Becca and I found ourselves paraphrasing about how the circumstances became stranger and stranger and how people came and went in the most mysterious and unpredictable ways and times. We headed home around midnight after the birthday girl, Helet, herself headed out for the night. Strange as it was, I did have a really good (amusing) time and it was just another experience of real South African culture (more so than I would/will gain at UWC given the circumstances) and I appreciate the opportunity to be “in it”.

I finished writing this on Sunday afternoon around 3 the early part of the day had been sunny and calm as per usually but in the last 15 minutes the skies opened up and I thought a tornado was going to touch down in Bellville. The winds were gusting, carrying with them leaves and the rains poured down harder than I've seen yet and as Monique and I stood at our windows wondering what was going to happen next, it started HAILING. Feeling a bit like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, we stood in shock at the small ice chunks the size of marbles came tumbling from above as those who had laundry drying on the line frantically ran about trying to retrieve it. Lasting only 15 minutes itself, it eased off and returned to rain but the skies are still dark and I'm not so sure I'm still in the same dimension as last night.







Stranger and stranger…