Yes, I'm still alive. I apologize for the long lapse in posts, I really do! It's just that rejoining the working world has made a significant dent in my free time, and after a long day waitressing my brain doesn't often feel up to working in the evenings. BUT it's a Saturday, and that means that tomorrow is my one day off, so I feel up to the challenge...
Here's a summary of the highlights of my past few weeks:
1. Going out to an Afrikaans bar/club and learning how to Sokkie dance. Think hoards of 18-year-old Jersey shore hybrid guys (with a blonde mullet instead of the spiky brown do) sporting tight tank tops spinning their dance partner around in an old-fashioned style two-step dance to popular Afrikaans dance music. Way more fun than dancing in American bars! But also way harder. There I was, learning to dance, obviously quite the amateur, with my (female) friend Isabeau, among all of these other couples who appeared practically semi-pro compared to me. I quickly had to stop caring what an idiot I looked like!
2. Getting a R200 tip on a R160 bill from an astoundingly generous Canadian couple. I now love Canadians.
3. Expanding my repetoire of South African food: "pap and stew", crayfish, abalone cakes, freshly-caught mussels, and braai-broodjies. Pap is a very traditional cooked cornmeal dish, like a finer and softer polenta. Very nice with boerewors and tomato stew. The abalone cakes tasted similar to fish cakes, only way more salty, and the mussels of course were divine. Braai-broodjies are barbequed toasted sandwiches, with cheese, onion, and tomato. How can you go wrong? (minus the tomato)
4. Stalling 3 times in a row at a stop street because I didn't realize my flip flop kept getting caught. Oops! I now drive barefoot, and haven't stalled again since.
5. Playing tennis almost every day.
6. Learning my first real Afrikaans phrase: "Ek het baie geloop" which means "I walked a lot". I use it nearly every day when I get home and am tired from being on my feet all day. But, doesn't come in very useful when about 75% of the time customers start speaking to me in Afrikaans, and 100% of the time they're not talking about walking...
7. Nearly dropping a tray with 3 glasses of ice, and 3 bottles of water on a small boy's head. "Nearly" is the key word here, but I still about had a heart attack. Also, so far I've broken 1 antique plate and 1 wine glass. Not a train wreck, but that loud crashing noise is now my worst nightmare.
8. Getting an amazing album of messages and photos from my family and friends for Christmas- best, and most unexpected, present ever!
And there you have it. Other than trying to avoid endangering small children's lives at work and playing tennis, I throw the tennis ball with Leo the dog on the beach, and go for occasional swims in the ocean. In the evenings after work, I hang out with the Kritzingers for a bit, write emails, and then go to bed! That's a day in the life of Marg the waitress, in the beautiful town of Jeffreys Bay.
Happy New Year's everyone!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
And how would you like your eggs cooked?
Yes, I'm now a waitress. I've crossed over into the mysterious land of food service, and I've become one of them. Yes, I've become one of those people who weight our aprons with so many pens, notepads, mints, and towels that we appear to be carrying a small child in our pockets. A small, bulgy child. One of those people who shout for joy on the inside when they see a large, nicely-dressed group of people sit in their section, and have to contain their grin when the pricey alcohol orders start flowing. One of those people who think, "I won't write it down, I'll remember that, it's just an English Breakfast and 2 double cappachinos"...and then shamefacedly has to traipse back to the table to double check the order because we're second-guessing ourselves. And even better, because I'm still new, I'm also now one of those people who when questioned, recommends dishes to a customer that I've never even tried. But hey, the menu description sounds delicious!
Today was my first real day as a waitress, no more training or baby steps, I had a normal section to myself. Yesterday I had a small section of only 3 tables, and over the course of the whole day made a measly 53 rand. Which, when converted to dollars, is about $8 or so. For 9 hours of work...yeah. The problem is that here in South Africa, the convention is to only tip 10%, and I only got 6 or 7 tables the whole day. I just try and avoid converting the money into dollars, because that's when things get depressing. On the bright side, I do spirit away a few handfuls of Endearmints away with me at the end of the day, which I guess might add about $2 onto my total yield, but still, that's not much. The "season" rush that everybody at the restaurant has been talking about (aka freaking out about) apparently hasn't hit yet, but when it does I've been told that we'll enter the tip promise land, so that's exciting.
The language barrier hasn't been much of a problem so far. I'd say about 75% of customers start off by speaking to me in Afrikaans, and after the blank look on my face and my polite "pardon?" they repeat themselves in English. About a third of all my tables ask me where I'm from, or inquire about my accent, which on one hand is nice, because I can chat a bit with the customer (better tips!) but on the other hand if I'm running around with things to do, discussing my family history and holiday plans etc. can be a little too time consuming. I have come across 2 Americans in the last few days, and we always bond, so that's been nice. Barbara from Colorado and Jodi from Georgia, both married to South Africans and living here, believe it or not. I do enjoy hearing that familiar twang, I have to say.
The problem with working in a restaurant that doubles as a bakery is that all day I'm surrounded by fresh bread and assorted desserts that slowly revolve in a glass display case. At times I feel like I'm a dog who's mesmerized by a meaty hamburger, except that what I'm drooling over is a chocolate strawberry cheesecake or chocolate ganache cupcake. Each time I walk past the baker on my way to drop off dirty dishes in the kitchen, and I catch a glimpse of what she's working on, the decadence of her creations almost stop me in my tracks. Well, sometimes I do stop in my tracks, actually, and am occasionally rewarded with a taste or an off-cut. But not very often. We are allowed to eat a "lunch" of bread and butter, so in a snatched moment when I don't have any tables, or my customers are busy eating, I go and slice myself a door-stop piece of ciabatta or fresh brown bread to eat in the back. The only problem with this is that in the last week, my dietary stable has become bread. Bread for lunch, and free bread left at the end of the day as part of my dinner. Thank goodness we don't get any desserts for free, or I'd really be in trouble!
Even though I'm definitely still a novice, and have a lot to learn, I haven't made any terrible mistakes yet. Well, now that I say that, I'll probably really put my foot in it tomorrow. But the worst I've done is walk up to a table when you think they're finished with their coffee to ask if they'd like more, and their cup is still half full, I just couldn't see it. Then, you're standing there awkwardly, cursing yourself, and are forced to say something lame like, "is everything alright?" because it's next to impossible to see how full a coffee cup is unless you're standing right next to it. I think this happens to all of the waiters though, however experienced. Another good one is walking up to collect the bill when they haven't put anything in it yet. Oops, that's awkward. If it's closed, how was I supposed to know?! But anyhow, you live and you learn!
Today was my first real day as a waitress, no more training or baby steps, I had a normal section to myself. Yesterday I had a small section of only 3 tables, and over the course of the whole day made a measly 53 rand. Which, when converted to dollars, is about $8 or so. For 9 hours of work...yeah. The problem is that here in South Africa, the convention is to only tip 10%, and I only got 6 or 7 tables the whole day. I just try and avoid converting the money into dollars, because that's when things get depressing. On the bright side, I do spirit away a few handfuls of Endearmints away with me at the end of the day, which I guess might add about $2 onto my total yield, but still, that's not much. The "season" rush that everybody at the restaurant has been talking about (aka freaking out about) apparently hasn't hit yet, but when it does I've been told that we'll enter the tip promise land, so that's exciting.
The language barrier hasn't been much of a problem so far. I'd say about 75% of customers start off by speaking to me in Afrikaans, and after the blank look on my face and my polite "pardon?" they repeat themselves in English. About a third of all my tables ask me where I'm from, or inquire about my accent, which on one hand is nice, because I can chat a bit with the customer (better tips!) but on the other hand if I'm running around with things to do, discussing my family history and holiday plans etc. can be a little too time consuming. I have come across 2 Americans in the last few days, and we always bond, so that's been nice. Barbara from Colorado and Jodi from Georgia, both married to South Africans and living here, believe it or not. I do enjoy hearing that familiar twang, I have to say.
The problem with working in a restaurant that doubles as a bakery is that all day I'm surrounded by fresh bread and assorted desserts that slowly revolve in a glass display case. At times I feel like I'm a dog who's mesmerized by a meaty hamburger, except that what I'm drooling over is a chocolate strawberry cheesecake or chocolate ganache cupcake. Each time I walk past the baker on my way to drop off dirty dishes in the kitchen, and I catch a glimpse of what she's working on, the decadence of her creations almost stop me in my tracks. Well, sometimes I do stop in my tracks, actually, and am occasionally rewarded with a taste or an off-cut. But not very often. We are allowed to eat a "lunch" of bread and butter, so in a snatched moment when I don't have any tables, or my customers are busy eating, I go and slice myself a door-stop piece of ciabatta or fresh brown bread to eat in the back. The only problem with this is that in the last week, my dietary stable has become bread. Bread for lunch, and free bread left at the end of the day as part of my dinner. Thank goodness we don't get any desserts for free, or I'd really be in trouble!
Even though I'm definitely still a novice, and have a lot to learn, I haven't made any terrible mistakes yet. Well, now that I say that, I'll probably really put my foot in it tomorrow. But the worst I've done is walk up to a table when you think they're finished with their coffee to ask if they'd like more, and their cup is still half full, I just couldn't see it. Then, you're standing there awkwardly, cursing yourself, and are forced to say something lame like, "is everything alright?" because it's next to impossible to see how full a coffee cup is unless you're standing right next to it. I think this happens to all of the waiters though, however experienced. Another good one is walking up to collect the bill when they haven't put anything in it yet. Oops, that's awkward. If it's closed, how was I supposed to know?! But anyhow, you live and you learn!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Spaz Bus
Hello from Jeffreys Bay! Or Jeffreysbaai as I should say. On Monday, I took an eventful bus trip from Cape Town to Jeffreys, and have been enjoying my last 2 days off before I start my waitressing job tomorrow. The trip by car I think would take no longer than 8 hours, and by bus was supposed to take 12 hours max. Lo and behold, I arrived in J Bay after 14 hours! I traveled on a Baz Bus, a South African backpackers bus, which is a 22-seater bus that transports backpackers, or anyone who wants really, to various hostels throughout the country. I decided to take this bus because I'd heard good things about it, and also liked the idea of meeting other foreign young people along the way. And yes, I definitely did get my money's worth in amusement alone. Let me describe it for you...
The cast of characters:
-Gavin the bus driver- happy-go-lucky guy with an Afrikaans accent, no teeth on the top, and a full row of shiny teeth on the bottom (dentures?) Which is weird because he appeared to be in his 40's. But anyhow, he was sporting a robust beer boep, complete with a tight and slightly holey t-shirt. Opening line to the passengers: "Hello guys! I just want to tell you my bus is the LOOOVE bus, because we all talk to each other and make friends!" He then threw in "I'm a BAD bus driver, not a BAZ bus driver" and then laughed very hard at his own joke.
-Lars the brooding German- computer programmer dressed only in black. From Berlin, in SA for 2 weeks by himself on a holiday.
-The Chatty Dutchman- (I didn't catch his name, I was too busy trying not to get trapped into a 2 hour long conversation) who was wearing a sparkly, brown plaid fedora and to go with his thick brown sideburns. I swear I'm not exaggerating. Spent the last year in Cape Town studying real estate, is going back to Holland soon. I didn't know people studied real estate. It took me most of the day to figure out why his voice sounded so familiar, and then I realized he sounds like Brad Pitt in Troy. I think. He talked so much I had plenty of time to mull it over.
-The Beach Blonde Austraaahlian girl- works at a bridal magazine in Australia, is in South Africa visiting her mom and grandma. Was traveling to Knysna by herself to take a break from her family, who apparently are too slow-paced for her. Unfortunately was trapped sitting up front with Gavin and the chatty Dutchman, but based on the amount she also talks, she definitely held her own. Is dating a surfer.
-The gaggle of German girls- very pale-skinned, animated group that chattered away in German for 4 or 5 hours straight, pretty much the entire time they were on the bus. I unfortunately have no idea what they were talking about or who they were.
-The gaggle of Austraaahlian girls- in SA for their old flatmate's wedding, decided to see a bit of South Africa afterwards. The one I was sitting by is an ex-travel agent for musical celebrities, apparently a very exhausting and stressful job. On their way to Oudtshoorn to see the ostriches.
-Tom Cruise- an American guy who looked and acted a lot like I imagine Tom Cruise would in person. Short statured, with big muscles (to compensate?) and brown spiky hair. From Chicago. Very loud and stereotypically American, but didn't turn out to be that friendly. By the time the bus picked him up, we were 2 1/2 hours late, so I can understand why.
-Possibly stoned couple- white American gangsta-lookalike guy, with an African girl sporting an afro that stood out at least a foot from her head. Again, I'm not exaggerating. Very out of it, fond of leaning against buildings on our gas station stops.
-The not so chatty Dutchman- an 18-year old blonde kid who looked like he was straight out of Orange County, but is actually from Holland. Smokes. Is in South Africa for 5 months, like me, visiting family during his gap year after high school. In his words, he "couldn't take any more school". I told him I felt the same way.
Lots going on, lots to see, but also took forever. The beach blonde Austraahlian girl said that we could have made a reality show about the Spaz (um, Baz) Bus, and she's right. The big drama of the day centered around one particular passenger that we were supposed to pick up in Mossel Bay, but when we got there there was no space for him. So Gavin, being a gracious and accomodating host, seats the sunburned, barefoot man on the floor in the aisle. Buut then he calls the "office" to let them know, and once we're 20 minutes away the "office" informs Gavin that he may lose his job, and therefore must drive the extra passenger all the way back to Mossel Bay. So we drive back, to drop the poor soul off again. The whole time during which Gavin is apologizing profusely and pleading with the passengers not to hate him. But by this time we're over an hour late.
And then leaving sunburned man in our dust, 40 minutes later we reach George. Gavin gets a call that he must now go back and pick up sunburned man AGAIN in Mossel Bay, because the "office" doesn't want to have to pay for him to stay an extra night. So Gavin left us in George to fend for ourselves, and drove back for a second time. Thank goodness we didn't have to go along for the ride, or Gavin may have had a mutiny on his hands. The whole point of a bus trip is to go TOWARDS your destination, not AWAY from it! But anyway, along with the chatty and not so chatty Dutchmen, the beach blonde Austraaahlian girl, and a few others I went to have dinner at Nandos, a chicken place. Which ended up working out, because we could all chat. And also, by then, I was in desperate need of a cup of tea, seeing as I'm an addict now and all.
Over an hour later, Gavin fiiinallly gets back with sunburned man, and we all load in and we're off! And then we realize that possibly stoned couple was no longer with us. They had accidentally gotten back on the wrong bus, the shuttle that was meant for sunburned man. And we still had their luggage. Suckaas! We didn't go back for them, whew.
So now running 2 1/2 hours late, we then passed the rest of the torturous 5 hours or so of the trip listening to Gavin's favorite CD, Lionel Richie love songs. Terrible, terrible music. Thank goodness for ipods, is all I can say. Eventually, at 10:30 pm, I finally made it to Jeffreys Bay, by which time Tom Cruise was so ansy that he kept shouting things like "ready to go?" or "everybody in?" each time we stopped a hostel and things were moving a little slow for his liking. All in all an entertaining journey, which I will definitely remember for a long, long time.
So there you have it! I'm undecided as to whether I want to take the Spaz bus back to Cape Town at the end of my month in Jeffrey's Bay...we'll have to see.
The cast of characters:
-Gavin the bus driver- happy-go-lucky guy with an Afrikaans accent, no teeth on the top, and a full row of shiny teeth on the bottom (dentures?) Which is weird because he appeared to be in his 40's. But anyhow, he was sporting a robust beer boep, complete with a tight and slightly holey t-shirt. Opening line to the passengers: "Hello guys! I just want to tell you my bus is the LOOOVE bus, because we all talk to each other and make friends!" He then threw in "I'm a BAD bus driver, not a BAZ bus driver" and then laughed very hard at his own joke.
-Lars the brooding German- computer programmer dressed only in black. From Berlin, in SA for 2 weeks by himself on a holiday.
-The Chatty Dutchman- (I didn't catch his name, I was too busy trying not to get trapped into a 2 hour long conversation) who was wearing a sparkly, brown plaid fedora and to go with his thick brown sideburns. I swear I'm not exaggerating. Spent the last year in Cape Town studying real estate, is going back to Holland soon. I didn't know people studied real estate. It took me most of the day to figure out why his voice sounded so familiar, and then I realized he sounds like Brad Pitt in Troy. I think. He talked so much I had plenty of time to mull it over.
-The Beach Blonde Austraaahlian girl- works at a bridal magazine in Australia, is in South Africa visiting her mom and grandma. Was traveling to Knysna by herself to take a break from her family, who apparently are too slow-paced for her. Unfortunately was trapped sitting up front with Gavin and the chatty Dutchman, but based on the amount she also talks, she definitely held her own. Is dating a surfer.
-The gaggle of German girls- very pale-skinned, animated group that chattered away in German for 4 or 5 hours straight, pretty much the entire time they were on the bus. I unfortunately have no idea what they were talking about or who they were.
-The gaggle of Austraaahlian girls- in SA for their old flatmate's wedding, decided to see a bit of South Africa afterwards. The one I was sitting by is an ex-travel agent for musical celebrities, apparently a very exhausting and stressful job. On their way to Oudtshoorn to see the ostriches.
-Tom Cruise- an American guy who looked and acted a lot like I imagine Tom Cruise would in person. Short statured, with big muscles (to compensate?) and brown spiky hair. From Chicago. Very loud and stereotypically American, but didn't turn out to be that friendly. By the time the bus picked him up, we were 2 1/2 hours late, so I can understand why.
-Possibly stoned couple- white American gangsta-lookalike guy, with an African girl sporting an afro that stood out at least a foot from her head. Again, I'm not exaggerating. Very out of it, fond of leaning against buildings on our gas station stops.
-The not so chatty Dutchman- an 18-year old blonde kid who looked like he was straight out of Orange County, but is actually from Holland. Smokes. Is in South Africa for 5 months, like me, visiting family during his gap year after high school. In his words, he "couldn't take any more school". I told him I felt the same way.
Lots going on, lots to see, but also took forever. The beach blonde Austraahlian girl said that we could have made a reality show about the Spaz (um, Baz) Bus, and she's right. The big drama of the day centered around one particular passenger that we were supposed to pick up in Mossel Bay, but when we got there there was no space for him. So Gavin, being a gracious and accomodating host, seats the sunburned, barefoot man on the floor in the aisle. Buut then he calls the "office" to let them know, and once we're 20 minutes away the "office" informs Gavin that he may lose his job, and therefore must drive the extra passenger all the way back to Mossel Bay. So we drive back, to drop the poor soul off again. The whole time during which Gavin is apologizing profusely and pleading with the passengers not to hate him. But by this time we're over an hour late.
And then leaving sunburned man in our dust, 40 minutes later we reach George. Gavin gets a call that he must now go back and pick up sunburned man AGAIN in Mossel Bay, because the "office" doesn't want to have to pay for him to stay an extra night. So Gavin left us in George to fend for ourselves, and drove back for a second time. Thank goodness we didn't have to go along for the ride, or Gavin may have had a mutiny on his hands. The whole point of a bus trip is to go TOWARDS your destination, not AWAY from it! But anyway, along with the chatty and not so chatty Dutchmen, the beach blonde Austraaahlian girl, and a few others I went to have dinner at Nandos, a chicken place. Which ended up working out, because we could all chat. And also, by then, I was in desperate need of a cup of tea, seeing as I'm an addict now and all.
Over an hour later, Gavin fiiinallly gets back with sunburned man, and we all load in and we're off! And then we realize that possibly stoned couple was no longer with us. They had accidentally gotten back on the wrong bus, the shuttle that was meant for sunburned man. And we still had their luggage. Suckaas! We didn't go back for them, whew.
So now running 2 1/2 hours late, we then passed the rest of the torturous 5 hours or so of the trip listening to Gavin's favorite CD, Lionel Richie love songs. Terrible, terrible music. Thank goodness for ipods, is all I can say. Eventually, at 10:30 pm, I finally made it to Jeffreys Bay, by which time Tom Cruise was so ansy that he kept shouting things like "ready to go?" or "everybody in?" each time we stopped a hostel and things were moving a little slow for his liking. All in all an entertaining journey, which I will definitely remember for a long, long time.
So there you have it! I'm undecided as to whether I want to take the Spaz bus back to Cape Town at the end of my month in Jeffrey's Bay...we'll have to see.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Ambulance Rides and Crocodiles
By a chance encounter with a friend of my cousin's, yesterday I had the opportunity to shadow a paramedic who works for Cape Medical Response, a privately-owned ambulance service in Fish Hoek. Here in South Africa, if there's an emergency people don't call the government ambulance (like we might with 911) because in this area it might take 30-45 minutes for help to arrive. So most people phone a private ambulance service for fast care, and I spent the day with the paramedics that work at one of these companies.
Going into it, I was apprehensive about what I was going to see, after hearing stories about township stabbings, shark attacks, etc, but it turned out that my most exhilarating experience of the day was nearly having a heart attack on the ambulance ride to the scene, rather than what happened when we got there. Our first call was to treat an older lady who, while going on her morning bike ride, got off her bike and then fainted. It was about a 15-20 minute drive from the company office to where she was, but we made it there in about 10 minutes, despite the fact that very few cars here actually slow down or pull over for the ambulance. It was the most hair-raising car ride I've ever been on, hands down. We sped around corners, drove on the wrong side of the road, and narrowly missed cars several different times. It's a miracle none of the paramedics have ever died in a car accident! Not wanting to seem uncool or anything, I had to really concentrate on not reflexively grabbing the door after every swerve, but the truth is I was terrified. And to top it off, on our way we happened to pass a train of about 8 Porsches, which prompted the ambulance driver to whoop and holler and shout to himself, "I'm passing the porsches, nah nah nah nah". Very confidence-inspiring. But anyhow, we got there alive, and the lady turned out to be alright, so that's all that mattered.
The second call was just for an elderly man who injured some ligaments in his shoulder when he fell in the garden, not too exciting. But what interested me most perhaps in the whole day, was hearing about a gas station attendant named Desmond. Apparently he's epileptic, and has daily seizures while pumping gas at work. So the paramedics all know who he is, because they frequently get calls when his seizures are longer than normal, or when he's not recovering well after a seizure. He has medication, yet doesn't take it, because according to the medic who was telling me this, it's seen as a sign of weakness in his culture for him to be seen taking medicine for the "falling down sickness". So rather than managing his condition, Desmond continues to have daily seizures at work. To me, it doesn't make much sense, but I suppose his decisions are so tied to his cultural and religious convictions that I couldn't even begin to understand where he's coming from.
Other than those two calls, the rest of the afternoon passed by very quietly, I suppose it makes sense that not many violent crimes or car accidents happen in the middle of the day. I'm probably going to go back for another shift in January, and I'd like to see if I can get in on a night shift so that I can see some more action. While I was there on Tuesday, I talked to the two paramedics (1 of which is 22!) who recently saved a shark attack victim who had his leg bitten off, and hearing their stories put me in awe of their responsibility. All in all, I think being a paramedic must be an awful lot like being a cop- long periods of boredom punctuated by adrenaline rushes and crises. Probably a very exhilarating and fulfilling existence, but definitely not for me!
One thing I also noticed while meeting and chatting with the paramedics yesterday, was how funny some people's attempts to relate to America can be. When I told one guy I was from California, he said "Ooohh! My friend just went to Miami for a wedding." I didn't really know what to say, never having even been to Florida, so I just gave some generic response like, "oh yes, I've heard parts of Florida are really pretty" or something to that effect. It's puzzling, yet kind of entertaining, when people give you completely random bits of information that they feel relate to you, yet you really don't have any idea where they're coming from! I'm sure South Africans experience this phenomenon about 10 x worse in the US, probably getting things like "Oh yes, I've been to Egypt" or "my neighbor went hunting in Kenya", but for me, not being used to it, I really notice it when it pops up. I also had to giggle (silently, of course) when the paramedic I was shadowing explained to me that here, in South Africa, they have a breed of alligator, slightly different than the American one of course, called a "crocodile". Even better was when he told me that since the US doesn't have as big of a problem with TB and AIDS as South Africa, our biggest health challenge was probably old age, in Florida. I was speechless for about 10 seconds, but after I got myself together I told him I thought cancer, cardiovascular disease, and other problems associated with obesity were pretty big issues for the US as well as old age. Other people's perceptions of America never fail to entertain!
Going into it, I was apprehensive about what I was going to see, after hearing stories about township stabbings, shark attacks, etc, but it turned out that my most exhilarating experience of the day was nearly having a heart attack on the ambulance ride to the scene, rather than what happened when we got there. Our first call was to treat an older lady who, while going on her morning bike ride, got off her bike and then fainted. It was about a 15-20 minute drive from the company office to where she was, but we made it there in about 10 minutes, despite the fact that very few cars here actually slow down or pull over for the ambulance. It was the most hair-raising car ride I've ever been on, hands down. We sped around corners, drove on the wrong side of the road, and narrowly missed cars several different times. It's a miracle none of the paramedics have ever died in a car accident! Not wanting to seem uncool or anything, I had to really concentrate on not reflexively grabbing the door after every swerve, but the truth is I was terrified. And to top it off, on our way we happened to pass a train of about 8 Porsches, which prompted the ambulance driver to whoop and holler and shout to himself, "I'm passing the porsches, nah nah nah nah". Very confidence-inspiring. But anyhow, we got there alive, and the lady turned out to be alright, so that's all that mattered.
The second call was just for an elderly man who injured some ligaments in his shoulder when he fell in the garden, not too exciting. But what interested me most perhaps in the whole day, was hearing about a gas station attendant named Desmond. Apparently he's epileptic, and has daily seizures while pumping gas at work. So the paramedics all know who he is, because they frequently get calls when his seizures are longer than normal, or when he's not recovering well after a seizure. He has medication, yet doesn't take it, because according to the medic who was telling me this, it's seen as a sign of weakness in his culture for him to be seen taking medicine for the "falling down sickness". So rather than managing his condition, Desmond continues to have daily seizures at work. To me, it doesn't make much sense, but I suppose his decisions are so tied to his cultural and religious convictions that I couldn't even begin to understand where he's coming from.
Other than those two calls, the rest of the afternoon passed by very quietly, I suppose it makes sense that not many violent crimes or car accidents happen in the middle of the day. I'm probably going to go back for another shift in January, and I'd like to see if I can get in on a night shift so that I can see some more action. While I was there on Tuesday, I talked to the two paramedics (1 of which is 22!) who recently saved a shark attack victim who had his leg bitten off, and hearing their stories put me in awe of their responsibility. All in all, I think being a paramedic must be an awful lot like being a cop- long periods of boredom punctuated by adrenaline rushes and crises. Probably a very exhilarating and fulfilling existence, but definitely not for me!
One thing I also noticed while meeting and chatting with the paramedics yesterday, was how funny some people's attempts to relate to America can be. When I told one guy I was from California, he said "Ooohh! My friend just went to Miami for a wedding." I didn't really know what to say, never having even been to Florida, so I just gave some generic response like, "oh yes, I've heard parts of Florida are really pretty" or something to that effect. It's puzzling, yet kind of entertaining, when people give you completely random bits of information that they feel relate to you, yet you really don't have any idea where they're coming from! I'm sure South Africans experience this phenomenon about 10 x worse in the US, probably getting things like "Oh yes, I've been to Egypt" or "my neighbor went hunting in Kenya", but for me, not being used to it, I really notice it when it pops up. I also had to giggle (silently, of course) when the paramedic I was shadowing explained to me that here, in South Africa, they have a breed of alligator, slightly different than the American one of course, called a "crocodile". Even better was when he told me that since the US doesn't have as big of a problem with TB and AIDS as South Africa, our biggest health challenge was probably old age, in Florida. I was speechless for about 10 seconds, but after I got myself together I told him I thought cancer, cardiovascular disease, and other problems associated with obesity were pretty big issues for the US as well as old age. Other people's perceptions of America never fail to entertain!
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Conquering Chapman's Peak
Today...I became a runner. Well, I won't compromise the term "runner" by classifying myself as one, but I was one for a day! Along with 2 of my cousins and their boyfriends, I woke up at 5 am to do a 10k "road race" (for me, a "road jog") up Chapman's Peak. For people familiar with Chapman's Peak, the views of the ocean are absolutely spectacular, although it's definitely not designed for a leisurely excursion. We started at the bottom, the Hout Bay side, and ran 5 k uphill, until we reached the highest point of the peak, and then ran 5 k back down again. The wind was really howling, so much so that I probably had the running form of one of those forward-leaning 75-year-old joggers. Going up was obviously the worst, but once I reached the top and started back down my outlook definitely improved. My ego was dented when one of those 75-year old joggers ended up passing me on the way down, but seeing all of the people that came in after me did make me feel a little better! I finished in 1:02, and all I really cared about was that the people running the 20k didn't beat me. The 20k winner came in about 2 minutes after I did, but luckily I was spared that embarrassment. Even though my calves are probably going to be angry for days, the upside is that any race I may do after this HAS to be easier.
My cousin Alison and I after we finished
Being in Cape Town has been amazing, and I really am convinced that this is the most beautiful place in the world. Here is the view on the beach in front of my aunt and uncle's house, where I'm staying:
Last weekend I went paddle boarding with my cousins and uncle right in the spot that you see in the photo above, and it was an amazing, once in a lifetime experience because the sea was swarming with seals! They had chased massive amounts of sardines to shore, and were playing, lounging, and eating in such large numbers that we just paddled around right next to them. Mostly they carried on unfazed, and sometimes they turned and looked at me sideways, but never swam away. I was a bit nervous about sharks, but figured that there was enough other food in the sea, between the sardines and seals, that they probably (or rather, hopefully) wouldn't go for me.
Since being in Cape Town, which is definitely more Afrikaans than Durban, I've been working on my pronunciation of Afrikaans words. I can say "braai", "boervors", and "bakkie", but I have trouble with words ending in "berg". I really struggle trying to say what sounds to me like "baaahrrjjgghhh". Yeah. If that word looks like it doesn't make sense, that's because it doesn't! Usually I just make some crazy gutteral sound and hope nobody thinks I'm choking on something. Another word I have a hard time with, and usually avoid saying, is "weg", which is meant to sound like "vaaahrgghh". I think. It's hard because when referring to a place with an Afrikaans name, I have 2 options. 1) I can say it with my accent, which sounds really ridiculous, or 2) attempt an Afrikaans pronunciation, which completely butchers the word AND makes me seem like I'm trying too hard. So pretty much it's a lose-lose. I've resorted to using alternate means of communication, such as pointing, or describing the place like "that mountain" or "that steep road". Although I do have fun learning about very Afrikaans names, such as Kobus (kooo-a-bus) and Jacoba (ya-ko-ba), just because they are so strange-sounding to me. When someone, poor soul, is trying to teach me something, I mimic the word, and uproarious laughter follows. But then I usually fire back asking someone to say "hey y'all whatcha doin'?" or something, and then enjoy laughing at their generally ridiculous American pronunciation. There are always ways to get even. But anyway, hopefully this skill in the works will come in useful sometime in the future. If anything else, my pronunciation is definitely horrific enough that it could become a weird party trick...or maybe not. Maybe for my own sake I should refrain from speaking Afrikaans in public!
I just have to post this photo, it's from Durban. I took it while standing in my grandparents' back yard- there are mother and baby monkeys all over the place, along the roads, on roofs, in yards, and they are soooo cute.
Look at the baby's little ears! I want to kidnap him.
Until next time! Totsiens :)
Being in Cape Town has been amazing, and I really am convinced that this is the most beautiful place in the world. Here is the view on the beach in front of my aunt and uncle's house, where I'm staying:
Last weekend I went paddle boarding with my cousins and uncle right in the spot that you see in the photo above, and it was an amazing, once in a lifetime experience because the sea was swarming with seals! They had chased massive amounts of sardines to shore, and were playing, lounging, and eating in such large numbers that we just paddled around right next to them. Mostly they carried on unfazed, and sometimes they turned and looked at me sideways, but never swam away. I was a bit nervous about sharks, but figured that there was enough other food in the sea, between the sardines and seals, that they probably (or rather, hopefully) wouldn't go for me.
Since being in Cape Town, which is definitely more Afrikaans than Durban, I've been working on my pronunciation of Afrikaans words. I can say "braai", "boervors", and "bakkie", but I have trouble with words ending in "berg". I really struggle trying to say what sounds to me like "baaahrrjjgghhh". Yeah. If that word looks like it doesn't make sense, that's because it doesn't! Usually I just make some crazy gutteral sound and hope nobody thinks I'm choking on something. Another word I have a hard time with, and usually avoid saying, is "weg", which is meant to sound like "vaaahrgghh". I think. It's hard because when referring to a place with an Afrikaans name, I have 2 options. 1) I can say it with my accent, which sounds really ridiculous, or 2) attempt an Afrikaans pronunciation, which completely butchers the word AND makes me seem like I'm trying too hard. So pretty much it's a lose-lose. I've resorted to using alternate means of communication, such as pointing, or describing the place like "that mountain" or "that steep road". Although I do have fun learning about very Afrikaans names, such as Kobus (kooo-a-bus) and Jacoba (ya-ko-ba), just because they are so strange-sounding to me. When someone, poor soul, is trying to teach me something, I mimic the word, and uproarious laughter follows. But then I usually fire back asking someone to say "hey y'all whatcha doin'?" or something, and then enjoy laughing at their generally ridiculous American pronunciation. There are always ways to get even. But anyway, hopefully this skill in the works will come in useful sometime in the future. If anything else, my pronunciation is definitely horrific enough that it could become a weird party trick...or maybe not. Maybe for my own sake I should refrain from speaking Afrikaans in public!
I just have to post this photo, it's from Durban. I took it while standing in my grandparents' back yard- there are mother and baby monkeys all over the place, along the roads, on roofs, in yards, and they are soooo cute.
Until next time! Totsiens :)
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Being a bloody Yank
Hello!
I'm happy to report that I'm alive and well, even after learning to drive a manual car on the left side of the road! I graduated from parking lots to actual roads for the first time on Sunday, and didn't cause mass panic, crash into anybody, drive on the wrong side of the road, or stall, so I considered it a notable personal victory. For me, driving required an intense level of concentration, so by the end of it I was jittery and wound up like a spring and nearly in a cold sweat, but I think as I practice more and more I'll be able to actually drive somewhere without getting a headache. The traffic's definitely not as bad as I'm used to, although people are more lax about obeying traffic laws, so that has taken some adjusting. I still look the wrong way for traffic when I walk across the street (oops) but when I'm driving it hasn't been a problem.
As I've been here longer, surprisingly I've found that I've been feeling more and more American and less and less South African, which is opposite from what I expected. I've never gotten my identity from being "American" before, I always associated myself more with my town, my sport, or my school, especially at UCLA. Rather than being a "UCLA tennis student trainer" or "post-grad interested in nutrition", which described me more as a person, now I'm just "American". Here, being American is actually what defines me, and so I guess has become a part of my identity more so than ever. I have always considered myself about half American, and the other half South African, but despite my excessive tea-drinking habit and love of rusks etc, here I'm nowhere NEAR as South African as everyone else, and therefore here am considered 110%+ American. Here, when I'm introduced, it's "this is Sarah, she's from America" and my foreign origin becomes the focal point of my interaction with whoever I'm meeting. And even when I'm not actually meeting someone, as soon as I open my mouth it's obvious I'm not a local, especially because I say things like "cayan you puhlease paass the budder", rather than "cahn yuu pleeze pahhss the buttah" and have no idea what's going on when Afrikaans jokes are flying around. As soon as I open my mouth I'm a Yank! I don't think that's going to change, either, because I'm going to be spending the whole month of December waitressing, which will mean explaining (and repeating) myself to everyone I come across! Maybe I can at least exploit my foreign-ness to get extra good tips, that's one good thing that may come of it. Even though I'm going to be here for about 4 more months, unless I'm able to suddenly morph my twang into a South African accent and start throwing around phrases like "yooooh that's a nice wave" or "this cup of tea is stunning" I think I'm going to remain as American as ever. I suppose being back in the "Motherland" has made me realize how American I actually am...But I suppose once I can drive like a whiz I can at least fool the other cars!
But seriously, this tea habit has become a little bit ridiculous. I think my count's up to 6 cups today, and it's not even 5 pm. It's a problem. I think when I get back my stamina will beat even my mom and Sue, which will definitely merit me going through a 10-step addiction program. I definitely shouldn't sustain this long-term, otherwise I'll probably get early-onset kidney problems or something. But while I'm here, I figure I may as well embrace what feels like that tiny .01% South African in me!
I'm happy to report that I'm alive and well, even after learning to drive a manual car on the left side of the road! I graduated from parking lots to actual roads for the first time on Sunday, and didn't cause mass panic, crash into anybody, drive on the wrong side of the road, or stall, so I considered it a notable personal victory. For me, driving required an intense level of concentration, so by the end of it I was jittery and wound up like a spring and nearly in a cold sweat, but I think as I practice more and more I'll be able to actually drive somewhere without getting a headache. The traffic's definitely not as bad as I'm used to, although people are more lax about obeying traffic laws, so that has taken some adjusting. I still look the wrong way for traffic when I walk across the street (oops) but when I'm driving it hasn't been a problem.
As I've been here longer, surprisingly I've found that I've been feeling more and more American and less and less South African, which is opposite from what I expected. I've never gotten my identity from being "American" before, I always associated myself more with my town, my sport, or my school, especially at UCLA. Rather than being a "UCLA tennis student trainer" or "post-grad interested in nutrition", which described me more as a person, now I'm just "American". Here, being American is actually what defines me, and so I guess has become a part of my identity more so than ever. I have always considered myself about half American, and the other half South African, but despite my excessive tea-drinking habit and love of rusks etc, here I'm nowhere NEAR as South African as everyone else, and therefore here am considered 110%+ American. Here, when I'm introduced, it's "this is Sarah, she's from America" and my foreign origin becomes the focal point of my interaction with whoever I'm meeting. And even when I'm not actually meeting someone, as soon as I open my mouth it's obvious I'm not a local, especially because I say things like "cayan you puhlease paass the budder", rather than "cahn yuu pleeze pahhss the buttah" and have no idea what's going on when Afrikaans jokes are flying around. As soon as I open my mouth I'm a Yank! I don't think that's going to change, either, because I'm going to be spending the whole month of December waitressing, which will mean explaining (and repeating) myself to everyone I come across! Maybe I can at least exploit my foreign-ness to get extra good tips, that's one good thing that may come of it. Even though I'm going to be here for about 4 more months, unless I'm able to suddenly morph my twang into a South African accent and start throwing around phrases like "yooooh that's a nice wave" or "this cup of tea is stunning" I think I'm going to remain as American as ever. I suppose being back in the "Motherland" has made me realize how American I actually am...But I suppose once I can drive like a whiz I can at least fool the other cars!
But seriously, this tea habit has become a little bit ridiculous. I think my count's up to 6 cups today, and it's not even 5 pm. It's a problem. I think when I get back my stamina will beat even my mom and Sue, which will definitely merit me going through a 10-step addiction program. I definitely shouldn't sustain this long-term, otherwise I'll probably get early-onset kidney problems or something. But while I'm here, I figure I may as well embrace what feels like that tiny .01% South African in me!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
It's...er...nice to meet you
Oh deary me, the weather is soooo dreary today! It’s gray, misty, drizzly, and breezy, definitely doesn’t feel like summer is approaching. Luckily I went swimming a few days ago when it was sunny and warm, so did manage to get a head start on my summer tan. The South Africa/Australia never-ending cricket match has been on the TV all day yesterday and today, but I have to admit I still have no idea what the hell is going on. I have gathered from my grandparents’ reactions that yesterday the South Africans were brilliant, and today we stink. But other than that I pretty much just glance at the screen occasionally to see if there’s a close-up of a cute cricketer, but I’d say rugby is better for that purpose.
Over the past week we’ve met up with a lot of family and family friends, and I’ve met some for the first time, and others for the first time in a long time. Something that I’ve noticed again and again over the course of various teas and dinners is that when it comes to greeting people of the older generation here, I have no idea what to do. There are just too many variations. Usually I just try and gauge what the other person is leading towards, and follow their lead. Which is hard, considering there’s the awkward distanced “hello”, traditional handshake, the hug (my favorite), the one-cheek kiss, the two-cheek kiss, and the on-the-lips kiss (my least favorite). Personally, as an American who’s not even particularly huggy, trying to guess what to do is about as confusing as physics. Actually, more confusing. In America, unless you’re family or close friends, when meeting somebody for the first time, usually you would just shake their hand. Here, it’s different. I see a head moving towards me in slow motion aaaand I’m useless. If it were up to ME I’d give everyone a hug and call it a day. But, alas, I’ve been the recipient of any and all of these combinations, and my awkward confusion about which side to lean towards has even led to me getting kissed on the nose, twice. My most unexpected experience was receiving a quick kiss on the lips by a 70-something year old man who I’d never met before. Now that was uncomfortable, and I’m pretty sure I was pink for a full five minutes afterwards. I realize that here it may be socially acceptable and not cringe-worthy, but it’s taking some getting to. After all of these greetings I’m more confused than ever, and am no nearer to figuring it out than I was three weeks ago. When I’m with people of my own generation in Cape Town and Jeffrey’s Bay in the coming months, I’ll have to see what they do to say hello. I’m hoping it’s something more familiar, otherwise I’ll just have to carry on being the stereotypical awkward American!
Other than being inducted into the cryptic world of South African hellos, other notable mentions of the past week include getting a guided tour of my mom’s old high school with my grandparents’ neighbor, and going out to lunch with my grandparents and eating the best cheesecake ever (I know, it's monumentous). I’ve still been going to the gym every morning because I enjoy getting out and mingling with young people, plus there’s free internet on their computers, so I can check up what’s going on in America and at UCLA. I’m using the term “mingling” loosely, by the way. I don’t actually talk to anybody, I’m more just going about my work out in their general vicinity. I’m not too good at striking up conversation with random strangers, so I pretty much keep to myself. But, I’ve realized that a gym’s a gym, and it’s the same here as it is in California and North Carolina! No translation or adaptation necessary, thank goodness exercise protocol is the same world-wide. Today I realized that I’ve listened to my “workout” playlist so many times now that if I wasn’t in a public place, I could probably rap along with Kanye. Now wouldn’t that be a picture…
Before I say goodbye I just have to make a quick shout-out to my cousin, Mr. Jack Kenneth Scott Henshall- have you been getting A’s and B’s? Before I left I threatened that if he got any C’s on his homework I’d call him out publicly (well, to my 9 or so readers), so I had to follow through. I expect a full report!
Until next time :)
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Paparazzi Marg
Hello again, sorry for the long gap in updates! I don't want to be one of those bloggers who tells you about what they ate for breakfast every day, etc, so I'm trying to wait until I have a collection of interesting tidbits to share. Since my photo uploading is going to be limited by my internet source at the time, I thought I'd take advantage while I have it to share pictures of the fun and different things I've been seeing and doing, so that you can see what I'm talking about for yourself! For example, if I were to attempt to explain a haircut that is a mix between a mullet and a mohawk, without a photo you would be very confused, surely unable to picture what horrific hybrid would result. But, I'll get to that later...So here is a photo journal of what I've been up to!
Going to the beach...yes, be jealous, very jealous. The beaches here in Durban are beautiful, especially when the weather's nice. Check out those waves, Dad! The weather's been pretty rainy lately, so I've only been a couple of times and haven't swam yet. This year's Shark Week is still a bit fresh in my mind...
Acrobatic father and daughter, performing on the beachfront for tips. They also performed this stunt, but with a small toddler clinging onto the back of her older sister, still on top of the dad's head. A precarious position up there, I would think, but they all survived!
Who's ever heard of a bread named "DUMPY"?? Whoever came up with that unappetizing name should be fired on the spot. It's not that hard, how about "wholesome" or "wheaty" or something. Anyway, this is the kind of bread we eat at my grandparent's house, and it tickles me every time I get it out of the fridge, so just had to take a picture.
Taxis. They're everywhere. Of course they're driven by maniacs are crowded to the brim, but the most fascinating part is their names! I get such a kick out of them. This is the best one I've seen so far, let me tell you what the back window says: "If U want me,come get me...cos' I'm tasty!!! VIOLATORS" This name is even worse than the bread! If I was looking for a taxi and saw this one coming along, I'd start running in the other direction. Other highlights include "CROCODILE", "VIPER", and "SEDUCTION". I have a couple photos of taxis now, but the only downside of this new fascination is that I now have to ride in the car with my camera ready at all times...they zoom by very fast so the window of opportunity is microscopic.
Sally Ann (my aunt) and I at the comedy show we went to at a theatre at Natal University last night. The comic's name is Aaron Mcilroy, a Durban native, and the theme of the show was "at work". The central character was an incredibly and obnoxious "inspirational" new CEO, who was of course, American. His accent wasn't half bad though.
HERE we go. The mullet mohawk. I know that I'm revealing myself to be a creepy stalker who takes photos of strangers, but I really was driven to do it. It's not my fault! This particular haircut is EVERYWHERE and is so disturbing. About half of the white guys here have either a short mullet/mohawk like this guy, or a long one, which is even worse. I guess it shows that "fashionable" is all relative! I was at the mall the other day and saw a guy with a mullet several inches down his back, with the tips dyed purple. I actually got my camera out and almost got a snapshot to document this historic sighting, but chickened out, I'm not very good at being blatantly rude! I've been trying to figure out what combined name I could create, like mohullet, or mullawk, but so far nothing seems to click. I'll have to keep thinking about it. The worst is that also in fashion for guys are short shorts. Haha yes, classic combination, I know what you're thinking. I'm still working on my photo documentation of the shorty short trend for your amusement, but don't worry, it's coming.
Bunny chow: a quarter loaf of white bread, hollowed out and filled with lamb curry...yuumm. Eaten with your fingers, specifically those of your right hand. I ate about half of it with my hands, half with a knife and fork, I'm not a pro yet like Sally Ann and Michael. Apparently it's a trademark Durban delicacy, and so I'm glad I got to try it at lunch today. Ironically, we ate our "bunnies" at a place called "Hollywood", I just can't escape LA.
Well, I hope you enjoyed your look into my past few weeks. Other than eating and stalking people and cars, I've been leading a very leisurely existence including daily trips to the gym, about 5 cups of tea a day, and watching tons of BBC TV programming. Can't complain!
I'll try and be better about updates...Until next time :)
Going to the beach...yes, be jealous, very jealous. The beaches here in Durban are beautiful, especially when the weather's nice. Check out those waves, Dad! The weather's been pretty rainy lately, so I've only been a couple of times and haven't swam yet. This year's Shark Week is still a bit fresh in my mind...
Acrobatic father and daughter, performing on the beachfront for tips. They also performed this stunt, but with a small toddler clinging onto the back of her older sister, still on top of the dad's head. A precarious position up there, I would think, but they all survived!
Taxis. They're everywhere. Of course they're driven by maniacs are crowded to the brim, but the most fascinating part is their names! I get such a kick out of them. This is the best one I've seen so far, let me tell you what the back window says: "If U want me,come get me...cos' I'm tasty!!! VIOLATORS" This name is even worse than the bread! If I was looking for a taxi and saw this one coming along, I'd start running in the other direction. Other highlights include "CROCODILE", "VIPER", and "SEDUCTION". I have a couple photos of taxis now, but the only downside of this new fascination is that I now have to ride in the car with my camera ready at all times...they zoom by very fast so the window of opportunity is microscopic.
Sally Ann (my aunt) and I at the comedy show we went to at a theatre at Natal University last night. The comic's name is Aaron Mcilroy, a Durban native, and the theme of the show was "at work". The central character was an incredibly and obnoxious "inspirational" new CEO, who was of course, American. His accent wasn't half bad though.
Bunny chow: a quarter loaf of white bread, hollowed out and filled with lamb curry...yuumm. Eaten with your fingers, specifically those of your right hand. I ate about half of it with my hands, half with a knife and fork, I'm not a pro yet like Sally Ann and Michael. Apparently it's a trademark Durban delicacy, and so I'm glad I got to try it at lunch today. Ironically, we ate our "bunnies" at a place called "Hollywood", I just can't escape LA.
Well, I hope you enjoyed your look into my past few weeks. Other than eating and stalking people and cars, I've been leading a very leisurely existence including daily trips to the gym, about 5 cups of tea a day, and watching tons of BBC TV programming. Can't complain!
I'll try and be better about updates...Until next time :)
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Safari Gear, Zulu Dances, and Shongalolos
I’m finally here. I left at 7:30 am Wednesday morning, and arrived at 9:50 pm Thursday night. I last left you at the Washington Dulles airport, after which the interesting part of my trip began. Reaching my gate about an hour before the boarding was scheduled to begin was like entering into a South African mecca: almost everyone around me was speaking in that familiar accent, the largest group of South Africans I’ve been around in years. And then the “American tourists” converged. There’s nothing wrong with being a tourist, or being American, given that I’m pretty much both of those myself. BUT there’s no need to wear your safari gear at the airport. Unless you’re planning on resorting to your zip-off pants and vented shirt to combat the wild and unpredictable climate that one often runs into on airplanes. And yes, one man was wearing a safari hat. It was raining outside. I feel it’s even a little ridiculous to wear “safari gear” while driving around a wild animal reserve (you spend pretty much the entire time inside your air conditioned car, and hiking is NOT encouraged) but I suppose it’s appropriate in that situation. But please, not at the airport. Although it is entertaining, it really doesn’t help to improve our image in the eyes of the bemused natives.
After missing a connection, and luckily making the next flight, I finally made it to my destination. South Africa seems the same as the last time I was here 4 years ago. Coming from America, and LA at that, it’s definitely an eye-opener to be back. It’s not every day that you see a photo of the president doing a traditional Zulu dance in the local newspaper, wearing traditional tribal gear with a pair of blindingly-white tennis shoes. This set off a discussion on how much money the government is spending on Zuma (the president) and his “7 or 8 wives” and their residences. Culture shock!
Other than the glaring differences in our political and cultural systems, everything from the cars, the food, the heightened security, to even the doorknobs would seem strange and new to someone who was visiting for the first time. I was trying to explain to Alex how the houses here are surrounded by high walls, gates, electric fences, etc, and how that is completely normal. Since my description skills failed to communicate what I was trying to convey, here is a picture for those of you who are curious! But of course, also note the pretty flowers to complement the fence. Durban does have beautiful tropical foliage.
I had a run in today with something else you wouldn’t come across in America. I was on my grandparents’ back porch and they casually said, “Oh look, there’s a shongalolo.” I was carrying a plate to the table or something, and casually peered around the chair to find out what the hell a “shongalolo” was. A species of bird? A cute native butterfly? NO. I discovered a black, twizzler-sized centipede/millipede (who knows the difference anyway) creature slithering towards the door. It was the creepy crawliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life! I took a picture because I had never seen anything like it before. Talking about it the far smaller American shongalolo-equivalent later, my uncle said that not everything’s bigger in Texas. Guess he’s right. Here’s a picture so you all can be as creeped-out as I was.
At dinner tonight, we evaluated my trip and highlighted the three “firsts” I’ve had so far:
After missing a connection, and luckily making the next flight, I finally made it to my destination. South Africa seems the same as the last time I was here 4 years ago. Coming from America, and LA at that, it’s definitely an eye-opener to be back. It’s not every day that you see a photo of the president doing a traditional Zulu dance in the local newspaper, wearing traditional tribal gear with a pair of blindingly-white tennis shoes. This set off a discussion on how much money the government is spending on Zuma (the president) and his “7 or 8 wives” and their residences. Culture shock!
Other than the glaring differences in our political and cultural systems, everything from the cars, the food, the heightened security, to even the doorknobs would seem strange and new to someone who was visiting for the first time. I was trying to explain to Alex how the houses here are surrounded by high walls, gates, electric fences, etc, and how that is completely normal. Since my description skills failed to communicate what I was trying to convey, here is a picture for those of you who are curious! But of course, also note the pretty flowers to complement the fence. Durban does have beautiful tropical foliage.
I had a run in today with something else you wouldn’t come across in America. I was on my grandparents’ back porch and they casually said, “Oh look, there’s a shongalolo.” I was carrying a plate to the table or something, and casually peered around the chair to find out what the hell a “shongalolo” was. A species of bird? A cute native butterfly? NO. I discovered a black, twizzler-sized centipede/millipede (who knows the difference anyway) creature slithering towards the door. It was the creepy crawliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life! I took a picture because I had never seen anything like it before. Talking about it the far smaller American shongalolo-equivalent later, my uncle said that not everything’s bigger in Texas. Guess he’s right. Here’s a picture so you all can be as creeped-out as I was.
Don't let the lack of reference point fool you, this thing was big.
At dinner tonight, we evaluated my trip and highlighted the three “firsts” I’ve had so far:
1. Eating “canned” salmon which turned out to include skin and bones (I found a vertebrae). Actually, I wouldn’t say eating, I would say “trying a tiny bite”
2. My new BFF shongalolos
3. Overhearing gunfire/fireworks. Michael thought gunfire, Sally Ann and I thought we heard fireworks. I’m going to go with fireworks
But not to worry, a little excitement is good for me! What’s a trip if you can’t try new things. Except, I think I could have done without the Shongalolo encounter…
Bye for now J
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Chillin' at the Airport
Hello, since I have an extremely long layover in Washington DC, I thought I'd take advantage of my enjoyable 5 hour stay to write another post. To update you about the pleasures of airports, that is. Because I'm sure you all really want to hear about it. But I'm bored, so I apologize!
The flight from Raleigh to Dulles was uneventful, we literally took off and then 10 minutes later started the descent, now that's my kind of flight! I know that when I'm sitting on my next flight struggling through the 7th hour, and knowing that I'm not even halfway there...I'll look back and be very jealous of my previous self. There were absolutely no interesting (and by interesting, I mean crazy) passengers on my flight unfortunately. Nobody yelling obnoxiously to their blackberry while waiting on the runway, no overheard wildly inappropriate conversations, nobody dressed up in any bizarre hats. That one's not too far off, believe it or not, last year I saw a guy at LAX wearing a turkey hat on his head. I mean, thankfully it was around Thanksgiving, but it's still a sighting one should take advantage of. By texting multiple friends a picture taken on the sly, of course. I'm sorry that I have nothing that comes close to that level of interest to inform you about. But believe me, if there was something juicy, worth sharing, I wouldn't hold back!
This terminal is pretty fancy, by the way, on top of the wireless internet, there's even a Chipotle! However, it's not at the top of my airport list because the Starbucks is located inside the "News Connection" magazine place. What blasphemy. My last Starbucks experience for at least 5 months wasn't even a real one at that. Instead of relaxing on a purple plush armchair and gazing at framed posters with scenic farms and coffee beans, I'm sitting at a small table right next to the travel neck pillows, "NObama" shirts, and the $10 Pashmina scarf stand. Although I am in the prime location to people watch the passerby's, and if someone particularly interesting walks by I don't look too creepy because if caught staring I can just pretend that I'm really concentrating on my laptop screen. It's working out pretty well so far. The only noteworthy sighting was a little Asian toddler with spiky pigtails that was making her dad jump over the tile lines on the floor. He was a good sport, poor guy! But that's about it so far. I still have 4 more hours, so there's still hope.
Yesterday I was thinking that I should have goals for this trip, or at least a few things that I should make sure to do while I'm away. One that I came up with was to interject "y'all" sporadically into conversations, which I figure will have 3 purposes. 1) to conduct a social experiment to see how many people actually understand what I said, 2) to entertain myself while noting confused/polite facial expressions, and 3) to educate people about the convenience of merging two very long words: "you", and "all" into 1 easy-to-say package. I personally really enjoy saying "y'all" and I think that I want to try start a trend. That was the only goal I've come up with so far, but I'm sure I'll discover other noteworthy aspirations along the way. Normally I'm a very serious, goal-oriented person, but now that I think about it maybe my 2nd goal should be to have non-serious goals for the next 7 months. I'll work on it.
Well I will stop rambling, because my stream of consciousness/verbal diarrhea is stemming from my boredom, and not really because I have anything particularly interesting to say. I'll post again when I get to South Africa and manage to MacGyver some wireless internet for my laptop!
<3
The flight from Raleigh to Dulles was uneventful, we literally took off and then 10 minutes later started the descent, now that's my kind of flight! I know that when I'm sitting on my next flight struggling through the 7th hour, and knowing that I'm not even halfway there...I'll look back and be very jealous of my previous self. There were absolutely no interesting (and by interesting, I mean crazy) passengers on my flight unfortunately. Nobody yelling obnoxiously to their blackberry while waiting on the runway, no overheard wildly inappropriate conversations, nobody dressed up in any bizarre hats. That one's not too far off, believe it or not, last year I saw a guy at LAX wearing a turkey hat on his head. I mean, thankfully it was around Thanksgiving, but it's still a sighting one should take advantage of. By texting multiple friends a picture taken on the sly, of course. I'm sorry that I have nothing that comes close to that level of interest to inform you about. But believe me, if there was something juicy, worth sharing, I wouldn't hold back!
This terminal is pretty fancy, by the way, on top of the wireless internet, there's even a Chipotle! However, it's not at the top of my airport list because the Starbucks is located inside the "News Connection" magazine place. What blasphemy. My last Starbucks experience for at least 5 months wasn't even a real one at that. Instead of relaxing on a purple plush armchair and gazing at framed posters with scenic farms and coffee beans, I'm sitting at a small table right next to the travel neck pillows, "NObama" shirts, and the $10 Pashmina scarf stand. Although I am in the prime location to people watch the passerby's, and if someone particularly interesting walks by I don't look too creepy because if caught staring I can just pretend that I'm really concentrating on my laptop screen. It's working out pretty well so far. The only noteworthy sighting was a little Asian toddler with spiky pigtails that was making her dad jump over the tile lines on the floor. He was a good sport, poor guy! But that's about it so far. I still have 4 more hours, so there's still hope.
Yesterday I was thinking that I should have goals for this trip, or at least a few things that I should make sure to do while I'm away. One that I came up with was to interject "y'all" sporadically into conversations, which I figure will have 3 purposes. 1) to conduct a social experiment to see how many people actually understand what I said, 2) to entertain myself while noting confused/polite facial expressions, and 3) to educate people about the convenience of merging two very long words: "you", and "all" into 1 easy-to-say package. I personally really enjoy saying "y'all" and I think that I want to try start a trend. That was the only goal I've come up with so far, but I'm sure I'll discover other noteworthy aspirations along the way. Normally I'm a very serious, goal-oriented person, but now that I think about it maybe my 2nd goal should be to have non-serious goals for the next 7 months. I'll work on it.
Well I will stop rambling, because my stream of consciousness/verbal diarrhea is stemming from my boredom, and not really because I have anything particularly interesting to say. I'll post again when I get to South Africa and manage to MacGyver some wireless internet for my laptop!
<3
Friday, October 14, 2011
Hello Goodbye
It's a few days before the big departure date, and it still hasn't hit me that I'm about to leave the good ol' U.S. of A. for a long long looong time. What am I going to miss about America? Truth is, I'm not too worried about it because even though there are things about home I'm going to miss, for every one aspect of America that I'll leave behind, I know I'll discover at least two new perks that I wouldn't have otherwise experienced along the way.
For example, I know I'm dearly going to miss automatic cars that drive on the right side of the road. But, to look on the bright side, in South Africa I'll not only get to improve my motion-sickness tolerance to rival that of a jet fighter pilot, but my trip will have an added element of risky adventure when I accidentally look the wrong way for traffic while crossing the street. I need to be more daring anyway. Just because something isn't familiar, doesn't mean that it's any worse than what I'm used to- or at least that's what I'm telling myself.
Now that writing this blog has got me thinking about it, I suppose it's unavoidable that in a day or two I'll enter that mental phase that creeps up on you before you have to say goodbye to something or someone, where you start to think in terms of "lasts." As in "this is the third-to-last time I'm going to brush my teeth at this sink," or "this is the last time I'm going to help my cousin with his math homework", or my personal tragedy, "this is the last time I'm going to get to sit on this sofa and watch Toddlers and Tiaras while browsing facebook" (yes, that's me). I mean, it's no fun to walk around with a depressing commentary bouncing around one's head, but maybe I'll have a step-up on the "last" syndrome anyway, because I'm expecting it. Who knows...I'll keep you posted.
Regardless of the goodbyes I'll be saying in the next few days, there's always the hope of hellos on the horizon. Where there's a goodbye to soft, gooey chocolate chip cookies (no, they don't have these in South Africa, and when I introduce people to them, they all like them crispy) there's a hello to rusks. Goodbye dryer, hello sun-kissed clothes. Goodbye stupid stupid squirrels, hello pesky pesky monkeys. Goodbye football, hello rugby. Goodbye dollars, hello rands. Goodbye crappy American chocolate, hello delicious BarOne's, PS's, Crunchies, and Smarties (see, I bet you've never heard of these...you're missing out!) Goodbye Spanish, hello Afrikaans. Goodbye winter, hello summer! That one I'm excited about. Goodbye texting, hello emailing. That one, not so excited about. The best one of all: goodbye grad school applications, hello vacation!
My hope is that this blog will be a good way for my friends and family to keep up to date with what's going on in my life during my travels. I can't promise that my day-to-day life is always going to be interesting, but I'll try my best to give you a good look into what it's like to be a 22-year-old recent college graduate who's embarking on a (hopefully) life-changing journey for 7 months, after being in school for a short 17 years.
As for me, I think after all of this dwelling and introspection, it's time for a healthy dose of Real Housewives. I won't say goodbye.
P.S. A big thanks to the wonderful Alex Murphy for coming up with the name for this blog...ingenious!
For example, I know I'm dearly going to miss automatic cars that drive on the right side of the road. But, to look on the bright side, in South Africa I'll not only get to improve my motion-sickness tolerance to rival that of a jet fighter pilot, but my trip will have an added element of risky adventure when I accidentally look the wrong way for traffic while crossing the street. I need to be more daring anyway. Just because something isn't familiar, doesn't mean that it's any worse than what I'm used to- or at least that's what I'm telling myself.
Now that writing this blog has got me thinking about it, I suppose it's unavoidable that in a day or two I'll enter that mental phase that creeps up on you before you have to say goodbye to something or someone, where you start to think in terms of "lasts." As in "this is the third-to-last time I'm going to brush my teeth at this sink," or "this is the last time I'm going to help my cousin with his math homework", or my personal tragedy, "this is the last time I'm going to get to sit on this sofa and watch Toddlers and Tiaras while browsing facebook" (yes, that's me). I mean, it's no fun to walk around with a depressing commentary bouncing around one's head, but maybe I'll have a step-up on the "last" syndrome anyway, because I'm expecting it. Who knows...I'll keep you posted.
Regardless of the goodbyes I'll be saying in the next few days, there's always the hope of hellos on the horizon. Where there's a goodbye to soft, gooey chocolate chip cookies (no, they don't have these in South Africa, and when I introduce people to them, they all like them crispy) there's a hello to rusks. Goodbye dryer, hello sun-kissed clothes. Goodbye stupid stupid squirrels, hello pesky pesky monkeys. Goodbye football, hello rugby. Goodbye dollars, hello rands. Goodbye crappy American chocolate, hello delicious BarOne's, PS's, Crunchies, and Smarties (see, I bet you've never heard of these...you're missing out!) Goodbye Spanish, hello Afrikaans. Goodbye winter, hello summer! That one I'm excited about. Goodbye texting, hello emailing. That one, not so excited about. The best one of all: goodbye grad school applications, hello vacation!
My hope is that this blog will be a good way for my friends and family to keep up to date with what's going on in my life during my travels. I can't promise that my day-to-day life is always going to be interesting, but I'll try my best to give you a good look into what it's like to be a 22-year-old recent college graduate who's embarking on a (hopefully) life-changing journey for 7 months, after being in school for a short 17 years.
As for me, I think after all of this dwelling and introspection, it's time for a healthy dose of Real Housewives. I won't say goodbye.
P.S. A big thanks to the wonderful Alex Murphy for coming up with the name for this blog...ingenious!
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