Aquilla Game Reserve
Girls going out.
Townships.
Nelson Winery.
Township little girl.
October 3-8
Saturday 10/3 Wine Production and Management
It’s spring in Cape town and feels amazing. We arrived in a picturesque port in the morning. The waterfront is just like Halifax—very clean, nice restaurants, very touristy, lots of new colonial style buildings masquerading as old, but still achieving a nice effect. Baby blues, whites, rusts, and mustard stucco buildings with exaggerated molding—a manufactured charm. Nice change of pace form Ghana though; give ourselves a little break from the culture immersion, so to speak.
I had an FDP: Wine Production and Management for two of my professors, McGowan and Duran. Yeah, not a hard decision to go on that one. Will be my favorite FDP of the trip, I’m sure. A lot of people went that didn’t have either professor.
We chose McGowan’s bus because he’s not as intense as Duran (McGowan’s the one that did shots with students one night). But we broke down on the side of the road. T.I.A. This is Africa.
Got on a new bus and went to Backsberg Wineries first—the only carbon-neutral winery in South Africa and the 3rd in the world to be so (there are currently 7 “green” wineries in the world). Fittingly the power was off, making it cool, dark, and romantic. The grounds were beautifully manicured with a spectrum of flowers overlooking the hazy blue peaks in the background. This must be the most beautiful wine country in the world—rolling hills of twisted vines framed by sharp rocky mountains and perfect weather. The owner of Backsberg was a handsome older man that said he primarily did the marketing for the label—OK, how do I get his job? Or I could take the job of the guy who led us through the tasting. They apparently export and sell a lot in the U.S., so I need to look for the John Martin Sauvignon Blanc Reserve 2009. Lemony, tart, sweet, and light. Taste of fresh green grass and green apple. Made in French oak barrels, so it doesn’t age well because it doesn’t have enough wood contact to age. Good for about 2 years. Fresh clean aftertaste, a sellout. Excellent. And yes, I discerned all of that for myself with my established pallet I have/ just read what they said it tastes like and believe them. Cotton candy? Oh yes, I taste the subtle sweet undertones of that. Whatever. “When it comes to wine, it’s personal. Be honest.” –Backsberg wino.
The next winery was Nelson Vineyards. The GM (again clad in jeans and a button down, the official uniform of a corporate wine-guy… I wouldn’t mind doing corporate if it was with wine) walked us over to the vines and expanded on a much more detailed approach of operations and business (because Duran’s group had been there first and grilled him), so I took furious notes (blah.) We then had our tasting outside which was very pleasant except for the “muckies” (what South Africans call little flying bugs). Not as good as the first winery, but good.
Got back to the ship, had a tiny bit of wireless time, and found a great restaurant with Carley, Leigh Anne, Mary Chandler, and Karis. Had seafood tortellini and a small salad, complimented with a nice Chenin Blanc wine. After dinner on the Victoria and Albert waterfront we found a great wine bar, Belthazars, where I had a fabulous De Trafford Chenin Blanc. Excellent. Biggest wine bar in the world, they claim. We then got a cab to Long Street, the Bourbon of Cape Town and bar hopped a little. Flirted with these adorable little 18 year old South African boys for a spill. Good night.
10/4 Sunday Robben Island
Today we set off to try to see Robben Island, which was iffy because usually you have to buy tickets the day before. We (Bobby Lee, Lindsay, and I) formed at breakfast. Lindsay’s awesome. Sweet face, pixie cut hair, super laid back, easy, and a little airheaded. Much more my personality fit. Reminds me of Katie-Chloe.
We had a wonderful quick lunch in the V and A mall after getting some rand from the ATM. Turkey, avocado, mozzarella, cucumber, and a ranchy dressing on a brown roll and hazelnut and “bar one” gelato. Amazing. The mall felt completely American—had lots of our shops. Nice break though.
After lunch we made friends with the manager of Robben Island and he got us on the 3 pm tour for 186 rand a piece. The ferry was 30 minutes out to the island, and we were greeted by thousands of gulls and other seabirds on the rocky coast, including penguins. Waddling around like tipsy tuxedoed waiters, those flightless birds seem even more charming in the wild than they do in the zoo. We got on a shuttle bus, which was accompanied by one of the best tour guides I’ve ever heard, and circumnavigated the 5 by 2 kilometer island. Robben Island came into its international fame it enjoys today largely by the political prisoners it held in its bowels during the South African apartheid government. From the 60s-90s, it held important black resistance leaders, with Nelson Mandela at its helm. Our guide’s booming, inflected, and charismatic voice, commanding demeanor, and personal experience made the tour wonderful. He was never a prisoner on the island, but was kept in a prison on the mainland. After the revolution, he gained a seat in Parliament and is personal friends with Mandela and Zimbuko, the father of the resistance. He related how every country that was represented on the shuttle—UK, France, Australia, and the U.S.—had an impact on the island. He hounded the Australians for bringing the greedy eucalyptus tree that sucks up all fresh water and takes over and for bringing rabbits that bred like crazy and are pests on the island. Among the rabbits were blue-headed guinea fowl, deer, and seals. Apparently the rabbits attack the penguins. Everybody’s got a soft spot for penguins, so I’m anti-bunny now. We saw the stone quarry that the prisoners worked in just for the sake of work. The limestone they were made to dig up wasn’t needed for the South African market, so it lay in waste. Sometimes the prisoners would carry it back and forth from one end of the quarry to the other during their backbreaking 7 hour day. The sun was so bright in the quarry that most of the prisoners are now half-blind. To this day Mandela asks for no flashes in cameras. But they would talk all day about intellectual matters, sharing their knowledge with everyone, even the young white guards. Mandela preached reconciliation, not revenge. When he was released in ’92 and elected president in ’94, he said “never again will any group oppress another like this.” He’s 94 now. A few years ago he was an interport lecturer for SAS and joined to voyage for a week! Can you imagine going for a coffee with Nelson before class one day? Crazy. He’s a great man.
We entered one section of the prison, this time led by ex-inmates. I couldn’t believe that the prisoners actually now work at the island—“This was my cell, this is the mat I slept on.” They say it’s a very good job though, and with almost 48% unemployed for whites and 95% for blacks in townships in S.A., they aren’t in a position to be picky. And they like educating people about what happened so it won’t happen again. Mandela’s cell was so small. He was imprisoned for 28 years.
A lot of correlation in my mind to the Civil Rights movement of America. Yet white supremism seems like it was more stifling here than at home. Maybe that’s a pride thing—it couldn’t have been this bad at home. Perhaps it was because it took place later in history and took longer to overthrow apartheid. The revolution lasted until the 90s, after all. P.S. It was bloodless until the white police opened fire on a crowd of protesters, most of who were shot in the back, fleeing.
After we got back to the mainland, Lindsay and I ditched the spare (just kidding, she wanted to peace out and go get her ear pierced.) We didn’t want to eat in the V and A again, although there are lots of restaurants (little over-priced). So saw a Westin shuttle and hopped on—took us to their concierge, who recommended the cape quarters de waterkant area, which was a little replication of Italy. Cobblestone streets, quaint restaurants with lots of outdoor seating around a modern fountain. Ate at Andalucía, a great Italian restaurant. Had a very light Sauvignon Blanc, an Italian tart (spruced up brushetta), and a great pizza—artichoke, olives, ricotta, pumpkin, rosemary, and butternut squash. Sweet, very good. Our waiter, Max, was a cute blonde that kept on saying “is it?” after everything, like an affirmation. Very S.A. phrase, “is it?” After our romantic dinner, we were led by the sound of Aretha and Diana to a corner bar, Café Manhattan. 3 huge voluptuous black soul singers with tight dresses, afros, and lots of makeup too us straight back to New Orleans and Memphis to the queens of Beale and Bourbon. Well, I don’t know where it took New Yorker Lindsay, but that’s where I went. Bonus: it was a gay bar and we saw the show from an open window outside. And witnessed a first date. He left early so it must not have gone well. He said he was a friend of a friend so it wasn’t really a date. They were just hanging out. After a few Castles (local brew) we hopped a cab to the Camps Bay area to Caprese, a club that Max recommended.
Mon 10/5 Operation Hunger
Operation Hunger, an FDP today. We went to the shanty towns/townships outside of Cape Town to a day care, where we measured and weighed children to determine if they were malnourished or over-nourished (poor diet). All fell in those two categories, none were normal/good nutrition. We then went to a church hostel for our box lunches and heard a little more on Operation Hunger.
It’s a nonprofit based in Cape Town that helps communities set up soup kitchens and nutrition programs. Yet the need is so huge that they have to qualify for aid because they can’t help everyone; they simply aren’t big enough. So the kids have to be evaluated and measured to see if their malnourishment is severe enough. So sad. The lady that worked for it had a young, sweet voice and face to match it—always with a smile. They want so much to alleviate the bad situations and bring hope and a better future to the children and people of the shacks. Shantytowns, townships, squatter camps, slums—call them what you like, these villages of rusted tin and filth. A home is small pieces of rippled flimsy metal (3 walls and a roof, maybe a door of cloth or wood.) They come to Cape Town looking for nonexistent work (unemployment is 95%) and end up in the outskirts in these shacks. Yet the people seem to have a spirit about them—there’s a strong sense of community in this struggle to survive. It’s where most of the crime happens—Cape Town is the #1 crime capital of the world, and most of it happens in the shanty towns. You don’t want to go there alone. Yet when we arrived in our huge tour bus with its cushy seats and AC, a big black lady named Miriam hopped on the bus with us and with a smile that lit up her eyes told us, “Ok sweeties, I don’t want you to be scared. I work with these people every day and they are just people that live in a bad situation. Alright, stick near me, and let’s go!”
Walking through the shacks, through the puddles of wrappers, chicken feathers, tires, and sour ick, we felt strange and hypocritical with our cameras and our nice clothes. Yet the people didn’t seem to mind—in fact, they seemed to be glad we were there; perhaps they think that we’ll somehow help them. But the truth is that we won’t. Maybe we’ll give a small donation at Christmas, maybe we’ll fit them into a small slot on CNN, somewhere between the sports and weather. People will see it, and they will probably be touched and sympathetic. Then they will go pick up their kids from soccer practices and get back to their hamburgers, pushing the unpleasant image to the dark recesses of their mind to deal with later or not at all. This is hard to write and I’m sure to read because we’d rather ignore it, pretend it’s not happening. We really can’t do anything and why dwell on what you can’t change?
Maybe we’ll find a way someday. Until then, at least the memory of these people will make us thankful, grateful, and conscious always in our community, family, and lives. Maybe it will help us become better citizens, daughters, husbands, wives. Maybe not. I know one thing though—I was touched.
After we visited the daycare Miriam took us to her home right next to the township—a modest but comfortable brick house with a pretty, well-cared for garden. We helped prepare our leftover lunch (apples, bologna sandwiches, Oreos, chicken legs, brownies, and juice boxes) for the kids to have with their thin broth soup that they get every day. It was a feast. Miriam is the mother of the community; everyday she opens her home to about 40 kids. She feeds them, disciplines them, laughs and cries with them, and nurtures them. And they mind her so well! They don’t get the parenting that she gives them at home, so Miriam is essentially raising them. You could see her faith in God radiating form her every move and word. An amazing person.
The minute we finished cutting up apples, the kids flooded the house and ran up to us, smiling and tugging on our arms. With a word from Miriam, they all lined up and sang for us. The songs of children are always sweet, but these kids touched our hearts.
After they sang we helped distribute the food—I got the huge bowl of apple slices—one slice for each child. They loved getting their picture taken and seeing it on the screen. It was hard to leave.
Tuesday 10/6 Aquilla Game Reserve
At 545 we had a light early breakfast on the ship. We got to the Aquilla Private Game Reserve after a short 2 hour bus ride through wine country and into the mountains—beautiful. Gradual cliffs covered in thousands of shades of stone—terracotta, caramel, rust, sand, deep green. The reserve is a small, plush lodge with bungalows and a beautiful restaurant which held an incredible looking breakfast for us… So of course, I had to at least taste it. Very very fresh grapefruit, pears, pineapples, passion fruit, papayas—I had forgotten how wonderful fresh fruit is! (Boat fruit is never ripe or it’s over ripe.) Coffee and passion fruit juice awesome as well.
After breakfast we walked across the road to the lion, leopard and cheetah enclosure—the ones that were rescued and can’t be set free because captivity has made them unable to fend in the wild. Just a simple wire fence between me and questioning yellow eyes of a lioness. Felt a little too close!
We then jumped in open air jeeps and bumped off into the small reserve. At the watering hole we saw antelope, hippos, ostriches, and later rhinos, elephants, zebras, and wildebeests. Since it’s a private reserve, we were able to see the different animals within like 5 minutes of each other. Almost felt fake—so surreal. In big reserves you have to track he animals and it might be 4 hours in between animals—so this is a lot more my style. I’m so glad I just did a day safari—I think I would have regretted sacrificing time in Cape Town for a 3 day like a lot of my friends did. When we got back we had an incredible lunch of traditional African food (again, SO fresh). Waddled back to the bus and had a good nap.
When I got back to my room Charis, Carley, Olivia, Mary Chandler, and Leigh Ann were all there. Good to see everyone and hear adventures from them. Everyone had wild stories (no pun intended). Even though it hurt to think about food (I felt like an overstuffed chicken), we went out to Belthazars, the wine bar and restaurant, where I had a filet of ostrich! Julie and I split an ’09 Sauvignon Blanc –great. Even cheap wine here is great.
Wednesday 10/7 Wine lands
A group of us decided to go wine tasting today—brothers Bret and Kevin (CO), Lauren (St. Louis), Aleilei (looks Hawaiian and has a Hawaiian name but is from Denver), Cynthia (very rich and sort of knows it, but enjoyed her), Alyssa (Detroit, blonde), Carter, and Mary Chandler. We hired a driver to take us out and he took us to Spier Winery, where we petted a cheetah! It was very tame and the handler was at his head—very soft fur… chilliest cheetah I’ve ever seen. Young girls from the UK and Australia were working there—cool job. Tasted some good vintages, but it’s not allowed to ship wine back to MS. Something about taxes and regulations. Probably good, need to slow down on spending.
Next we went to Asara winery, which was gorgeous. Got a great tour from Stephanie and she made the operations of the winery infinitively more interesting than the Nelson Winery guy on the FDP. I’ve decided I want her job. She told me to keep in touch and do a South African wine accreditation program if I move here. She also said to come volunteer for harvesting—they need all the help they can get hand picking grapes—like 20 hour days, but drink a lot and bond a lot. Would be SOOO cool. I’ve asked a few people if it’s hard to get a work visa for an American in South Africa, and they say not too bad. Really might look into it.
After we tasted the wines, we went over to Zanzibar, the whiskey and cigar bar. I had a double Johnny Walker Red on the rocks and a Bolivar cigar, which was really fat and smoky. Am I a 60 year old man? Yes. But that’s nothing new, eh? Some others got cigars too, but the consensus was that mine was the best. I was in heaven. Soo fun. Cheers my mate.
Thursday 10/8 Leaving
I went to a small café outside and had the prettiest cappuccino (barista drew a tree with the froth and cinnamon soil) I’ve ever seen with an incredible breakfast warp—avocado, eggs, mushrooms, lettuce, ham. So good. Wrote a lot in my journal, then found a fresh guava and orange juice at a quiet outside table by the food court and wrote some more. Then a lady came and asked to sit with me because she didn’t want to eat alone. Of course. Her name is Babalwas but some call her Beverly. She works at Robben Island and said “lovely” about everything. SOO nice. Very interested in Semester at Sea and we talked about Nelson Mandela, who she said she’d try to introduce me to if I come back. She said she’d love to help me with anything and everything when I come back, and I believe her! So sweet and genuine.
After basically writing a novel in my journal, I accidently went shopping and found an amazing hole-in-the-wall place called Pure Solid. Asian-inspired, Anthropologie type bohemian clothes at extremely reasonable prices, and it’s owned by the designer Marco! That’s why I had to buy; I’ve never had anything made directly from the designer and sold to me by the designer. He’s from Cape Town and has a Chinese girlfriend, his muse. Absolutely amazing and well-made clothes—I got a hunter green/taupe parka for my Great Wall trip, a blue and chocolate peasant dress with these crazy flowing sleeves, a gray and muted blue bubble dress, a wonderful white tunic with khaki trim, and a hunter green asymmetrical jersey-type dress with three buttons at the top and two crazy random pockets on the side. I love it. My parents and Gere will probably hate it. Anyway, good prices.
I still had a little rand left, so I stopped at a sushi bar and had a chardonnay and crispy snow crab roll. Off to the ship now, I’m a little past “Byron time” (our Dean of Students, Bryon, says be on the ship an hour before “on ship time” which is 2 hours before we sail so you won’t get dock time). I watched Out of Africa with Meryl and Robert tonight—my new favorite movie. So many great quotes. I’m now out of Africa too, but I think I left my heart there.
Saturday 10/3 Wine Production and Management
It’s spring in Cape town and feels amazing. We arrived in a picturesque port in the morning. The waterfront is just like Halifax—very clean, nice restaurants, very touristy, lots of new colonial style buildings masquerading as old, but still achieving a nice effect. Baby blues, whites, rusts, and mustard stucco buildings with exaggerated molding—a manufactured charm. Nice change of pace form Ghana though; give ourselves a little break from the culture immersion, so to speak.
I had an FDP: Wine Production and Management for two of my professors, McGowan and Duran. Yeah, not a hard decision to go on that one. Will be my favorite FDP of the trip, I’m sure. A lot of people went that didn’t have either professor.
We chose McGowan’s bus because he’s not as intense as Duran (McGowan’s the one that did shots with students one night). But we broke down on the side of the road. T.I.A. This is Africa.
Got on a new bus and went to Backsberg Wineries first—the only carbon-neutral winery in South Africa and the 3rd in the world to be so (there are currently 7 “green” wineries in the world). Fittingly the power was off, making it cool, dark, and romantic. The grounds were beautifully manicured with a spectrum of flowers overlooking the hazy blue peaks in the background. This must be the most beautiful wine country in the world—rolling hills of twisted vines framed by sharp rocky mountains and perfect weather. The owner of Backsberg was a handsome older man that said he primarily did the marketing for the label—OK, how do I get his job? Or I could take the job of the guy who led us through the tasting. They apparently export and sell a lot in the U.S., so I need to look for the John Martin Sauvignon Blanc Reserve 2009. Lemony, tart, sweet, and light. Taste of fresh green grass and green apple. Made in French oak barrels, so it doesn’t age well because it doesn’t have enough wood contact to age. Good for about 2 years. Fresh clean aftertaste, a sellout. Excellent. And yes, I discerned all of that for myself with my established pallet I have/ just read what they said it tastes like and believe them. Cotton candy? Oh yes, I taste the subtle sweet undertones of that. Whatever. “When it comes to wine, it’s personal. Be honest.” –Backsberg wino.
The next winery was Nelson Vineyards. The GM (again clad in jeans and a button down, the official uniform of a corporate wine-guy… I wouldn’t mind doing corporate if it was with wine) walked us over to the vines and expanded on a much more detailed approach of operations and business (because Duran’s group had been there first and grilled him), so I took furious notes (blah.) We then had our tasting outside which was very pleasant except for the “muckies” (what South Africans call little flying bugs). Not as good as the first winery, but good.
Got back to the ship, had a tiny bit of wireless time, and found a great restaurant with Carley, Leigh Anne, Mary Chandler, and Karis. Had seafood tortellini and a small salad, complimented with a nice Chenin Blanc wine. After dinner on the Victoria and Albert waterfront we found a great wine bar, Belthazars, where I had a fabulous De Trafford Chenin Blanc. Excellent. Biggest wine bar in the world, they claim. We then got a cab to Long Street, the Bourbon of Cape Town and bar hopped a little. Flirted with these adorable little 18 year old South African boys for a spill. Good night.
10/4 Sunday Robben Island
Today we set off to try to see Robben Island, which was iffy because usually you have to buy tickets the day before. We (Bobby Lee, Lindsay, and I) formed at breakfast. Lindsay’s awesome. Sweet face, pixie cut hair, super laid back, easy, and a little airheaded. Much more my personality fit. Reminds me of Katie-Chloe.
We had a wonderful quick lunch in the V and A mall after getting some rand from the ATM. Turkey, avocado, mozzarella, cucumber, and a ranchy dressing on a brown roll and hazelnut and “bar one” gelato. Amazing. The mall felt completely American—had lots of our shops. Nice break though.
After lunch we made friends with the manager of Robben Island and he got us on the 3 pm tour for 186 rand a piece. The ferry was 30 minutes out to the island, and we were greeted by thousands of gulls and other seabirds on the rocky coast, including penguins. Waddling around like tipsy tuxedoed waiters, those flightless birds seem even more charming in the wild than they do in the zoo. We got on a shuttle bus, which was accompanied by one of the best tour guides I’ve ever heard, and circumnavigated the 5 by 2 kilometer island. Robben Island came into its international fame it enjoys today largely by the political prisoners it held in its bowels during the South African apartheid government. From the 60s-90s, it held important black resistance leaders, with Nelson Mandela at its helm. Our guide’s booming, inflected, and charismatic voice, commanding demeanor, and personal experience made the tour wonderful. He was never a prisoner on the island, but was kept in a prison on the mainland. After the revolution, he gained a seat in Parliament and is personal friends with Mandela and Zimbuko, the father of the resistance. He related how every country that was represented on the shuttle—UK, France, Australia, and the U.S.—had an impact on the island. He hounded the Australians for bringing the greedy eucalyptus tree that sucks up all fresh water and takes over and for bringing rabbits that bred like crazy and are pests on the island. Among the rabbits were blue-headed guinea fowl, deer, and seals. Apparently the rabbits attack the penguins. Everybody’s got a soft spot for penguins, so I’m anti-bunny now. We saw the stone quarry that the prisoners worked in just for the sake of work. The limestone they were made to dig up wasn’t needed for the South African market, so it lay in waste. Sometimes the prisoners would carry it back and forth from one end of the quarry to the other during their backbreaking 7 hour day. The sun was so bright in the quarry that most of the prisoners are now half-blind. To this day Mandela asks for no flashes in cameras. But they would talk all day about intellectual matters, sharing their knowledge with everyone, even the young white guards. Mandela preached reconciliation, not revenge. When he was released in ’92 and elected president in ’94, he said “never again will any group oppress another like this.” He’s 94 now. A few years ago he was an interport lecturer for SAS and joined to voyage for a week! Can you imagine going for a coffee with Nelson before class one day? Crazy. He’s a great man.
We entered one section of the prison, this time led by ex-inmates. I couldn’t believe that the prisoners actually now work at the island—“This was my cell, this is the mat I slept on.” They say it’s a very good job though, and with almost 48% unemployed for whites and 95% for blacks in townships in S.A., they aren’t in a position to be picky. And they like educating people about what happened so it won’t happen again. Mandela’s cell was so small. He was imprisoned for 28 years.
A lot of correlation in my mind to the Civil Rights movement of America. Yet white supremism seems like it was more stifling here than at home. Maybe that’s a pride thing—it couldn’t have been this bad at home. Perhaps it was because it took place later in history and took longer to overthrow apartheid. The revolution lasted until the 90s, after all. P.S. It was bloodless until the white police opened fire on a crowd of protesters, most of who were shot in the back, fleeing.
After we got back to the mainland, Lindsay and I ditched the spare (just kidding, she wanted to peace out and go get her ear pierced.) We didn’t want to eat in the V and A again, although there are lots of restaurants (little over-priced). So saw a Westin shuttle and hopped on—took us to their concierge, who recommended the cape quarters de waterkant area, which was a little replication of Italy. Cobblestone streets, quaint restaurants with lots of outdoor seating around a modern fountain. Ate at Andalucía, a great Italian restaurant. Had a very light Sauvignon Blanc, an Italian tart (spruced up brushetta), and a great pizza—artichoke, olives, ricotta, pumpkin, rosemary, and butternut squash. Sweet, very good. Our waiter, Max, was a cute blonde that kept on saying “is it?” after everything, like an affirmation. Very S.A. phrase, “is it?” After our romantic dinner, we were led by the sound of Aretha and Diana to a corner bar, Café Manhattan. 3 huge voluptuous black soul singers with tight dresses, afros, and lots of makeup too us straight back to New Orleans and Memphis to the queens of Beale and Bourbon. Well, I don’t know where it took New Yorker Lindsay, but that’s where I went. Bonus: it was a gay bar and we saw the show from an open window outside. And witnessed a first date. He left early so it must not have gone well. He said he was a friend of a friend so it wasn’t really a date. They were just hanging out. After a few Castles (local brew) we hopped a cab to the Camps Bay area to Caprese, a club that Max recommended.
Mon 10/5 Operation Hunger
Operation Hunger, an FDP today. We went to the shanty towns/townships outside of Cape Town to a day care, where we measured and weighed children to determine if they were malnourished or over-nourished (poor diet). All fell in those two categories, none were normal/good nutrition. We then went to a church hostel for our box lunches and heard a little more on Operation Hunger.
It’s a nonprofit based in Cape Town that helps communities set up soup kitchens and nutrition programs. Yet the need is so huge that they have to qualify for aid because they can’t help everyone; they simply aren’t big enough. So the kids have to be evaluated and measured to see if their malnourishment is severe enough. So sad. The lady that worked for it had a young, sweet voice and face to match it—always with a smile. They want so much to alleviate the bad situations and bring hope and a better future to the children and people of the shacks. Shantytowns, townships, squatter camps, slums—call them what you like, these villages of rusted tin and filth. A home is small pieces of rippled flimsy metal (3 walls and a roof, maybe a door of cloth or wood.) They come to Cape Town looking for nonexistent work (unemployment is 95%) and end up in the outskirts in these shacks. Yet the people seem to have a spirit about them—there’s a strong sense of community in this struggle to survive. It’s where most of the crime happens—Cape Town is the #1 crime capital of the world, and most of it happens in the shanty towns. You don’t want to go there alone. Yet when we arrived in our huge tour bus with its cushy seats and AC, a big black lady named Miriam hopped on the bus with us and with a smile that lit up her eyes told us, “Ok sweeties, I don’t want you to be scared. I work with these people every day and they are just people that live in a bad situation. Alright, stick near me, and let’s go!”
Walking through the shacks, through the puddles of wrappers, chicken feathers, tires, and sour ick, we felt strange and hypocritical with our cameras and our nice clothes. Yet the people didn’t seem to mind—in fact, they seemed to be glad we were there; perhaps they think that we’ll somehow help them. But the truth is that we won’t. Maybe we’ll give a small donation at Christmas, maybe we’ll fit them into a small slot on CNN, somewhere between the sports and weather. People will see it, and they will probably be touched and sympathetic. Then they will go pick up their kids from soccer practices and get back to their hamburgers, pushing the unpleasant image to the dark recesses of their mind to deal with later or not at all. This is hard to write and I’m sure to read because we’d rather ignore it, pretend it’s not happening. We really can’t do anything and why dwell on what you can’t change?
Maybe we’ll find a way someday. Until then, at least the memory of these people will make us thankful, grateful, and conscious always in our community, family, and lives. Maybe it will help us become better citizens, daughters, husbands, wives. Maybe not. I know one thing though—I was touched.
After we visited the daycare Miriam took us to her home right next to the township—a modest but comfortable brick house with a pretty, well-cared for garden. We helped prepare our leftover lunch (apples, bologna sandwiches, Oreos, chicken legs, brownies, and juice boxes) for the kids to have with their thin broth soup that they get every day. It was a feast. Miriam is the mother of the community; everyday she opens her home to about 40 kids. She feeds them, disciplines them, laughs and cries with them, and nurtures them. And they mind her so well! They don’t get the parenting that she gives them at home, so Miriam is essentially raising them. You could see her faith in God radiating form her every move and word. An amazing person.
The minute we finished cutting up apples, the kids flooded the house and ran up to us, smiling and tugging on our arms. With a word from Miriam, they all lined up and sang for us. The songs of children are always sweet, but these kids touched our hearts.
After they sang we helped distribute the food—I got the huge bowl of apple slices—one slice for each child. They loved getting their picture taken and seeing it on the screen. It was hard to leave.
Tuesday 10/6 Aquilla Game Reserve
At 545 we had a light early breakfast on the ship. We got to the Aquilla Private Game Reserve after a short 2 hour bus ride through wine country and into the mountains—beautiful. Gradual cliffs covered in thousands of shades of stone—terracotta, caramel, rust, sand, deep green. The reserve is a small, plush lodge with bungalows and a beautiful restaurant which held an incredible looking breakfast for us… So of course, I had to at least taste it. Very very fresh grapefruit, pears, pineapples, passion fruit, papayas—I had forgotten how wonderful fresh fruit is! (Boat fruit is never ripe or it’s over ripe.) Coffee and passion fruit juice awesome as well.
After breakfast we walked across the road to the lion, leopard and cheetah enclosure—the ones that were rescued and can’t be set free because captivity has made them unable to fend in the wild. Just a simple wire fence between me and questioning yellow eyes of a lioness. Felt a little too close!
We then jumped in open air jeeps and bumped off into the small reserve. At the watering hole we saw antelope, hippos, ostriches, and later rhinos, elephants, zebras, and wildebeests. Since it’s a private reserve, we were able to see the different animals within like 5 minutes of each other. Almost felt fake—so surreal. In big reserves you have to track he animals and it might be 4 hours in between animals—so this is a lot more my style. I’m so glad I just did a day safari—I think I would have regretted sacrificing time in Cape Town for a 3 day like a lot of my friends did. When we got back we had an incredible lunch of traditional African food (again, SO fresh). Waddled back to the bus and had a good nap.
When I got back to my room Charis, Carley, Olivia, Mary Chandler, and Leigh Ann were all there. Good to see everyone and hear adventures from them. Everyone had wild stories (no pun intended). Even though it hurt to think about food (I felt like an overstuffed chicken), we went out to Belthazars, the wine bar and restaurant, where I had a filet of ostrich! Julie and I split an ’09 Sauvignon Blanc –great. Even cheap wine here is great.
Wednesday 10/7 Wine lands
A group of us decided to go wine tasting today—brothers Bret and Kevin (CO), Lauren (St. Louis), Aleilei (looks Hawaiian and has a Hawaiian name but is from Denver), Cynthia (very rich and sort of knows it, but enjoyed her), Alyssa (Detroit, blonde), Carter, and Mary Chandler. We hired a driver to take us out and he took us to Spier Winery, where we petted a cheetah! It was very tame and the handler was at his head—very soft fur… chilliest cheetah I’ve ever seen. Young girls from the UK and Australia were working there—cool job. Tasted some good vintages, but it’s not allowed to ship wine back to MS. Something about taxes and regulations. Probably good, need to slow down on spending.
Next we went to Asara winery, which was gorgeous. Got a great tour from Stephanie and she made the operations of the winery infinitively more interesting than the Nelson Winery guy on the FDP. I’ve decided I want her job. She told me to keep in touch and do a South African wine accreditation program if I move here. She also said to come volunteer for harvesting—they need all the help they can get hand picking grapes—like 20 hour days, but drink a lot and bond a lot. Would be SOOO cool. I’ve asked a few people if it’s hard to get a work visa for an American in South Africa, and they say not too bad. Really might look into it.
After we tasted the wines, we went over to Zanzibar, the whiskey and cigar bar. I had a double Johnny Walker Red on the rocks and a Bolivar cigar, which was really fat and smoky. Am I a 60 year old man? Yes. But that’s nothing new, eh? Some others got cigars too, but the consensus was that mine was the best. I was in heaven. Soo fun. Cheers my mate.
Thursday 10/8 Leaving
I went to a small café outside and had the prettiest cappuccino (barista drew a tree with the froth and cinnamon soil) I’ve ever seen with an incredible breakfast warp—avocado, eggs, mushrooms, lettuce, ham. So good. Wrote a lot in my journal, then found a fresh guava and orange juice at a quiet outside table by the food court and wrote some more. Then a lady came and asked to sit with me because she didn’t want to eat alone. Of course. Her name is Babalwas but some call her Beverly. She works at Robben Island and said “lovely” about everything. SOO nice. Very interested in Semester at Sea and we talked about Nelson Mandela, who she said she’d try to introduce me to if I come back. She said she’d love to help me with anything and everything when I come back, and I believe her! So sweet and genuine.
After basically writing a novel in my journal, I accidently went shopping and found an amazing hole-in-the-wall place called Pure Solid. Asian-inspired, Anthropologie type bohemian clothes at extremely reasonable prices, and it’s owned by the designer Marco! That’s why I had to buy; I’ve never had anything made directly from the designer and sold to me by the designer. He’s from Cape Town and has a Chinese girlfriend, his muse. Absolutely amazing and well-made clothes—I got a hunter green/taupe parka for my Great Wall trip, a blue and chocolate peasant dress with these crazy flowing sleeves, a gray and muted blue bubble dress, a wonderful white tunic with khaki trim, and a hunter green asymmetrical jersey-type dress with three buttons at the top and two crazy random pockets on the side. I love it. My parents and Gere will probably hate it. Anyway, good prices.
I still had a little rand left, so I stopped at a sushi bar and had a chardonnay and crispy snow crab roll. Off to the ship now, I’m a little past “Byron time” (our Dean of Students, Bryon, says be on the ship an hour before “on ship time” which is 2 hours before we sail so you won’t get dock time). I watched Out of Africa with Meryl and Robert tonight—my new favorite movie. So many great quotes. I’m now out of Africa too, but I think I left my heart there.
