I had the great fortune to stumble on a wonderful event which took place in Cape Town this afternoon. It was, in fact, the World Cup Final.
But Mike, you moron, you'll say, the World Cup Final was played in Berlin, a few months ago, and though South Africa will have the World Cup, it won't happen until 2010.
Well, I don't appreciate the "moron" comment, thank you very much, but you didn't let me finish. I, along with Caitlin from my house, some of the Highstead House girls, and the birthday boy (Yankee fan), saw Russia take on Kazakhstan in the Homeless World Cup final in Grand Parade this afternoon. The Homeless World Cup, for those who may never have heard of it, is an annual event, held to raise awareness about global poverty and homelessness in an attempt to curtail the growing number of people in the world who go without shelter on a daily basis. The Homeless World Cup is a much different even from the recently-passed World Cup in Germany. This event is much more informal, but with the same competitive atmosphere. For these players, who, to a man, are homeless, this game was not simply an exhibition for a great cause, it was for them, perhaps, their greatest achievement, something they could take pride in, amidst lives of hopelessness and despair. When Russia finally triumphed 1-0 in the tense, fifteen-minute battle (The Homeless World Cup, I should mention, is played with Street Soccer rules: 4-a-side, much faster pace, smaller concrete pitch, boards instead of out of bounds plays, no tackling), the goalkeeper sank to his knees and openly wept - he had allowed only 9 goals in the 13 games Russia had played, and won, over the course of the last week. Players from both teams embraced. There was a palpable sense of joy amongst all in attendance; Russian, Kazakh, South African and every other nationality alike, we all stood, cheered and danced in the celebration. It was truly a great day all around.
But I have no doubt, that each player on that field, every person in the stands, the organizers of the tournament, each of us who witnessed the joy and the pride of the sport today would trade it all to end poverty, and end homelessness. Events like the Homeless World Cup highlight these problems in a world which all to often forgets about the least of its brethren, and help us envision a world better for all of us.
30 September 2006
27 September 2006
A Scintillating Success, Waiting to Happen
Those were the closing words of the 7th Steve Biko Memorial Lecture given last evening in Jameson Hall here at UCT by Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. I was lucky enough to be in attendance with about 1,500 other members of the UCT community, and (apparently) a Danish Princess - which was a running joke throughout the proceedings. Tutu spoke, in his own colloquial and eloquent fashion, for nearly an hour, linking the promise of the new South Africa to the black consciousness movement of the 1970s, of which Steve Biko was a leading proponent. He was, at one, lofty and mundane, speaking of the ideals set forth by Biko and his teachings, whilst also speaking of a need for the people of this country to take pride in their surroundings, going on for a good minute or two about the sad state of the South African public service, and littering in the cities. Tutu struck a particular chord in speaking about the mundane details of life, however. The prelate made the point that the Apartheid regime, which for so long had created an initmate sense of fear and terror within the African communities of this nation, still, in the long hangover since 1994, breaks the spirit of those people in many ways. He advocated a sort of citizenship re-education, teaching those who were oppressed under the ancien regime to take pride in their communities again and play key roles in their stewardship. For Tutu, all is not lost, however, as he referenced, briefly, Peter Gabriel's tribute song to the memory of Steve Biko, saying that when the South African police brutally tortured and assassinated Biko, they thought they could "blow out his candle," annihilate his memory and influence on the African community. But, as Tutu - and Gabriel - proclaimed, you cannot blow out a fire. The wind will catch it and the flames reach higher. Tutu's fervent hope is that the winds of change will blwo through this country, and lift the spirits - and communities - of this great nation higher and higher.
22 September 2006
The Other Side of the Mountain
::HOOOOOOONK!!!:: "Get out of the way! Do you want to die?!"
Going to the beach is supposed to be relaxing. And when we were in Camps Bay this afternoon, it was relaxing. Beautiful mediterranean scenes: angry Atlantic waves crashing on the white sand beaches, visions of beautiful people gathered at one of South Africa - and the world's - best strips for sunbathing, cool breezes, games of chess and football going on around us, and the hot African sun keeping us warm.
Flash forward to the Cape Town Minibus Transit Terminal. As CJ Cregg once said to Albie Duncan on West Wing, "Have you ever been to the Moscow Circus? No? Well then I have no frame of reference in which to describe to you what you're about to see." Picture if you will minibuses, stretched across the top of the train station downtown, literally hundreds, maybe thousands of them, each with a different destination, and a different hawker trying to get fares. "Sea Point! Heidelberg! Mowbray! Wynberg!" The cacaphony is deafening. You are disoriented trying to differentiate between the screams, the hooting, the whistling, the grind of the engines. In the close and confined space, minibuses whiz past going too fast for the road. In the scene depicted in medias res above, poor Ashley from our group was nearly run down by a speeding minibus amidst the confusion. You must find the right bus in all of the chaos, then be prepared to be scrunched in with 16 or so people who are about to become your closest friends for the short ride up to Mowbray, in our case.
In any case, we made it home, perhaps a bit more tired than when we left. But I have never been to the beach and then come home thinking I need a scotch. Our voyage today has certainly changed that. But, ah, we are in Africa, these are the experiences you cannot have anywhere else. The relaxation and the chaos all in one short afternoon spent on the other side of the mountain.
Going to the beach is supposed to be relaxing. And when we were in Camps Bay this afternoon, it was relaxing. Beautiful mediterranean scenes: angry Atlantic waves crashing on the white sand beaches, visions of beautiful people gathered at one of South Africa - and the world's - best strips for sunbathing, cool breezes, games of chess and football going on around us, and the hot African sun keeping us warm.
Flash forward to the Cape Town Minibus Transit Terminal. As CJ Cregg once said to Albie Duncan on West Wing, "Have you ever been to the Moscow Circus? No? Well then I have no frame of reference in which to describe to you what you're about to see." Picture if you will minibuses, stretched across the top of the train station downtown, literally hundreds, maybe thousands of them, each with a different destination, and a different hawker trying to get fares. "Sea Point! Heidelberg! Mowbray! Wynberg!" The cacaphony is deafening. You are disoriented trying to differentiate between the screams, the hooting, the whistling, the grind of the engines. In the close and confined space, minibuses whiz past going too fast for the road. In the scene depicted in medias res above, poor Ashley from our group was nearly run down by a speeding minibus amidst the confusion. You must find the right bus in all of the chaos, then be prepared to be scrunched in with 16 or so people who are about to become your closest friends for the short ride up to Mowbray, in our case.
In any case, we made it home, perhaps a bit more tired than when we left. But I have never been to the beach and then come home thinking I need a scotch. Our voyage today has certainly changed that. But, ah, we are in Africa, these are the experiences you cannot have anywhere else. The relaxation and the chaos all in one short afternoon spent on the other side of the mountain.
Mass Hysteria and Confusion: The UCT Grading System and You
Not to toot my own horn here, but I did get my history paper back this morning and the first class mark was sitting there for me to read in all its glory. Never in my life have I ever more ecstatic to receive a 77 on a paper.
That's right, a 77. Under South African grading, that's first class. In the U.S., that translates to an A+. This further proves my theory that the way to excel in college is to follow the following rubric:
1) Pick paper topics on incredibly esoteric topics that no one knows anything about (In this case, migrant labour on Natal and Louisiana sugar plantations in the period 1900-1920).
2) Do very little research
3) Write essentially a well-worded treatise about how there is no research on the subject
4) Receive your high marks.
Anyway this whole system is still hard to comprehend. In other news, you fail at 50. Except you don't fail, you just don't receive a "duly performed" certificate, or DP, which means you can't take the final. And then you fail. But that's not what I'm concentrating on this bright, beautiful Cape Town morning. At least not until I get my politics paper back. Oy...
Until then, I'm going to enjoy my 77, bronzing under the sun, reading 'Absurdistan' by Gary Shteyngart (Thanks, Christine!), and taking a lazy afternoon.
That's right, a 77. Under South African grading, that's first class. In the U.S., that translates to an A+. This further proves my theory that the way to excel in college is to follow the following rubric:
1) Pick paper topics on incredibly esoteric topics that no one knows anything about (In this case, migrant labour on Natal and Louisiana sugar plantations in the period 1900-1920).
2) Do very little research
3) Write essentially a well-worded treatise about how there is no research on the subject
4) Receive your high marks.
Anyway this whole system is still hard to comprehend. In other news, you fail at 50. Except you don't fail, you just don't receive a "duly performed" certificate, or DP, which means you can't take the final. And then you fail. But that's not what I'm concentrating on this bright, beautiful Cape Town morning. At least not until I get my politics paper back. Oy...
Until then, I'm going to enjoy my 77, bronzing under the sun, reading 'Absurdistan' by Gary Shteyngart (Thanks, Christine!), and taking a lazy afternoon.
20 September 2006
Congratulations, Massachusetts
The death was announced last night, across every city and town in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, with resounding force, of the politics of the past. Deval Patrick and Timothy Murray are the nominees of my party for Governor and Lieutenant Governor. Patrick didn't just win, he blew away a venture capitalist with an insane amount of money and TV airtime and a popular, incumbent Attorney General. To say this achievement is earth-shattering does not do it justice. A lot of thanks go out to people like Peter Dolan and the Progressive Democrats of Masschusetts, who found Patrick and took him under their wing, making him a political superstar. An African-American civil rights lawyer from Chicago, who began campaigning 18 months ago with little more than the change in his pocket and some fresh ideas about direction for our Commonwealth, garnered half of the votes cast in last night's tally. To the people at the Patrick campaign, I salute you. You did for progressive politics what a lot of us on the Dean Campaign started and could not finish. You have truly lived the dream so far and put yourself in position to change Massachusetts for the better for a very long time. And, for the first time since the debacle of 2004, you have made me, personally, proud once again to say that I am a Massachusetts Democrat.
The fight is on now, however. Kerry Healey and the Republicans will be formidable opponents as they have every intention on keeping the Corner Office, their last vestige of power in the Commonwealth, which they have held for 16 years. The next seven weeks will be a bruising test of our, and Patrick's, resolve. But it is a fight that will make Patrick stronger as a person and, eventually, a Governor, and one that we democrats intend to win.
The fight is on now, however. Kerry Healey and the Republicans will be formidable opponents as they have every intention on keeping the Corner Office, their last vestige of power in the Commonwealth, which they have held for 16 years. The next seven weeks will be a bruising test of our, and Patrick's, resolve. But it is a fight that will make Patrick stronger as a person and, eventually, a Governor, and one that we democrats intend to win.
17 September 2006
Beautiful Desolation: The Namibia Tour
I have, in fact, returned alive from eight wonderful days in the Namibian desert. There are so many stories to tell, so many experiences to relate, so many sights I have yet to comprehend. The immensity of the place, the vastness really inspires an almost zen sense in you, of being alone amidst creation, and part of it. I think it would be impossible to relate the entire experience to you in one post, and I will probably write more comparing Namibia to South Africa and beyond over the rest of my 10 weeks here. For now, what I can give you is a snapshot. Throughout the tour, I kept a journal of my experiences and thoughts, the sights and sounds. That journal is reproduced, in its entirety, below. I tried to do it in a Bill Simmons-esque, running diary fashion over the eight days, so it takes the form of my thoughts from one moment to the next without a whole lot of conclusion. Be forewarned, this is a VERY long post. It is raw and unedited. You are lucky to be getting the reproduced version, as it is a little hard to read my low-tech chicken scratch, especially when riding along in a VW Microbus on Namibia's gravel roads. Anyway, here is the diary. I hope you enjoy it.
-------------------
FRIDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER
-------------------
2300 - We arrived in Windhoek this evening to a cloudy desert sky. Just my luck, the one time in my entire life that I go to the desert, it rains. As we pulled into the gate at Hosea Kutako International Airport, so 50km to the west of the capital, the dying sun poked through the clouds as it fought its losing battle against the desert night. We drove out into the desert in a minivan, shepherded into Windhoek by a minibus driver named Corrie, and watched the increasingly reddening orb as it fell beneath the distant mountains and night fell across the vast expanse. We arrived at the Cardboard Box hostel just after nightfall to a brewing happy hour of American emigres and a gaggle of fellow travellers. We met Per, a Swede, who can only be described as "on a mission." Having spent 2 1/2 years in Australia, Per and some other random friends he has met along the way are driving a Land Rover from Cape Town to Sweden. (Google "cruisingcontinents.com" for more information). It makes our National Lampoon's-esque journey look like a walk in the park. He will traverse about every war-torn area in the world - including, but not limited to, Uganda, Sudan, and the Middle East - before returning home to Stockholm. Also, as I mentioned earlier, we ran into a bunch of American college students just getting started on their program at the University of Namibia. Spent a good deal of time talking politics and development with them (and college basketball, as a few of them went to Chapel Hill, and I, of course, am an avowed Duke Blue Devils fan) over more than a few Tafel lagers, the finest Namibia has to offer. Amazingly, I'm looking forward to tomorrow's early wake-up call as I settle in for a night's rest. To explore the vastness of this country will be quite an adventure, I'm sure. To see places and experience things I otherwise never would, nor of which I have never even conceived. The differences, the 180-degree turnabout from anything in my consciousness, that is what makes this moment, this journey so special.
---------------------
SATURDAY, 9 SEPTEMBER
---------------------
0945 - We are officially off the beaten path. Having met our guide, Andre Blaauw of Foxtrot Tours, this morning at the backpackers, we journeyed south from Windhoek on the route to Sesriem and Sossusvlei. As our red minibus rolled down the B1, we left behind the last vestiges of civilization and began traversing the savannah. Guarded by mountains on each side, the paved road, soon to be a novelty was long and straight only the occasional undulation. We made a brief stop at Rehoboth (I wanted to take a picture in my "Why Not Us?" t-shirt and send it to Red Sox Color Commentator Jerry Remy, but alas, there wasn't time) to pick up supplies (Beer). As I write this entry, we are on the C24 gravel road, having left pavement behind as we wind our way throught the mountains towards Sesriem and our stop for the evening. The vegetation is growing a bit sparser now, and the smell of desert dust fills the air.
1130 - "Road to Nowhere" by the Talking Heads comes over the stereo. A little on the nose, don't you think?
1135 - "I bless the rains down in AAAAAAAAAAAAA-frica..." Yeah, so that happened. Kevin's a pretty awesome DJ.
1215 - We take a journeyman's lunch of roast beef sandwiches amidst the towering Naukluft mountains. These sentries guard the semi-arid savannah we've been driving through all morning from the Namib Desert, which at 85 million years old, is the world's oldest, according to Andre. We're climbing the switchbacks now, on our way into the sand seas, where life itself is endangered by nature on a daily basis.
1520 - We are now settled in at Sesriem Campground. Wiled away the day's heat in the pool, lounging with what sounded like Angolan Portuguese as well as some other Capetonians. With the heat dissipating, we are headed to Elim's Dune for an evening hike. As we enter the Namib-Naukluft Park on the Sossusvlei Road, we can the vegetation, or lack of it, changing rapidly from savannah into desert. We should see an even more marked change at Sossusvlei tomorrow, but Elim's Dune, red and off in the distance, should be a good introduction.
1645 - "CAN'T STOP! CANNOT STOP!!! AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" That's the sound I make when I run, full bore, down a giant sand dune. I made the hardest 1km (not vertical) of my life all the way to the top, and despite spending about 10 minutes trying not to vomit, the view was astounding. We all sat in wonder and awe as the beautiful desolation lay out before us. Each of us, to a man, asking, "Where are we, and how in hell did we get here?" We all know the answer now: "This is Africa, and by sheer force of will."
--------------------
SUNDAY, 10 SEPTEMBER
--------------------
0600 - One night of camping down, we set out for Sossusvlei in the pre-dawn Sunday morning calm. Managed to survive the night relatively comfortably and without animal or insect interaction. Moonlight on the dunes creates an ethereal fog, painting the landscape in a grey mist as the night begins its transfer of power to the day.
0640 - Still on the Sossusvlei Road. As we move west, the dawn begins to break over the dunes. The grey pallor of moonlight has given way to a host of hues; reds, pinks, fiery burnt orange and faint blue. The day is at hand now.
0820 - The heat of the day is already gathering as we continue on from Dune 45 to Deadvlei and Sossusvlei. Running (and falling...and getting up and running and falling again) down Dune 45 was quite the experience. I almost wish I had skis and could have carves my way down the virgin, ephemeral surface. As we leapt and - Kevin's word here - "pranced" down the duneside, the incredibly carefree nature of the moment gripped me. It was like being 5 years old at O'Maley School with Kate and Patrick rolling down the hill while our moms walked the track. Though I came up literally covered in red dune sand, and I had absolutely no desire to walk back up and try it again - both marked departures from my youthful adventures - here I was, in Africa, marvelling, both at nature in 360 degrees, and in the hindsight of my own journey here.
1045 - Never has there been a more appropriate name than Deadvlei. The clay bed, surrounded by the tallest dunes in the Namib is quite literally bereft of life. The most eerie sensation was hearing the chirping of birds, signs of life with dead, 900-year old, standing trees. Our own existences questioned in a place where life is not meant to thrive.
--------------------
MONDAY, 11 SEPTEMBER
--------------------
0730 - We set off for Swakopmund under the glow of yet another beautiful desert dawn. Spent one last fun night at the campground, discussing issues of import. At one point, we began talking about Steve Biko and "Cry Freedom." Andre became interested in our conversation, asking bluntly, "Do you believe everything you see in movies?" We all demeured slightly, knowing Andre's personal history: educated at Stellenbosch - the outpost of Afrikaner nationalist thought, first language of Afrikaans, retired special ops for the South African Defense Forces under the apartheid regime. The conversation moved along haltingly at first, each of us hoping it would be civil. In the end, it was that and also enlightening as Andre gave us a perspective on apartheid that is missed in both U.S. educational circles as well as UCT, the academic bastion of the anti-Apartheid movement. And while I do not agree with his conception of the movement being, in his words, "overblown," I do agree that, in America at least, the issue was largely misunderstood because of misinformation in many circles. Andre spoke of his best friend in the military who was a Black African, and shot dead standing on the line right next to him. Apartheid did breed deep division to be sure, but interestingly, in Andre's words, it also bred a quixotic sense of commonality of being part of a bad situation.
0830 - We are continuing up the C19 towards Solitaire. The grit of the gravel roads begins to settle in my nose and throat. I'm definitely looking forward to our apple tart stop in Solitaire, because as much I am loving this trip and this place and want to take it all in, I'd rather not choke on it!
0930 - Well, I can officially say I went on Spring Break in the Tropics as we pass the sign marking the Tropic of Capricorn. Pretty much, it's just a sign in the middle of the desert with nothing (and I mean, NOTHING) around. Still, a milestone nonetheless.
1415 - "Is that my shin sticking out?!?!?! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" Luckily, it wasn't, but, indoor kid that I am, I managed to roll a 4x4 ATV on my left leg while on the dunes between Walvis Bay and Swakopmund. Only superficial damage, but I did needed to be driven back by our guide. Before the accident, we got soem amazing views of the sand seas with the ocean in the background...at 60km/h. My mom's gonna kill me.
---------------------
TUESDAY, 12 SEPTEMBER
---------------------
1030 - On the road to Hentiesbaai and the Damaraland after a fun night in Swakopmund. In a stunning twist of fate, our fellow interstudy friends who are also travelling in Namibia showed up at the same bar we were at last night. Without email, cell phones or communication of any kind, we somehow knew to find each other at a certain time, in a certain place. Just goes to show, fate will always bring good people together, even in farflung, ex-German colonial outposts. Dinner at Cape to Cairo restaurant was excellent last night as well. I had an excellent kudu steak in mushroom sauce. The choices on the menu showed off the best African cuisine had to offer. We got to share appetizers like fried crocodile, orix in blue cheese sauce and Nigerian-style meatballs. Quite the fete culinaire!
1230 - There are some times Andre stops the minibus and says, "We're here," and we all respond "Uh...we're where exactly?" Just now, we stopped at a "rest area" (read: picnic table in the desert) just short of the Brondberg, Namibia's highest peak. There is literally the mountain and then NOTHING as far as the eye can see. After a quick stop, and toss of the new NERF football we found - miraculously - in Hentiesbaai, we were off again. But, it is becoming increasingly clear that nothing encapsulates the Namibian experience more than the phrase, "We're here."
-----------------------
WEDNESDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER
-----------------------
1350 - We are on the Halali Road inside Etosha National Park. We aren't supposed to be able to see any animals in the heat of the day. Of course, that means we have already seen legions of springbok, zebra and orix. Oh yeah, and about 20 elephants. We haven't even gotten to the campsite yet! This, after last night sleeping - or, in my case, not sleeping - in a dry river bed in the Damaraland with elephants all around us to be heard, though not seen. Etosha is flat, barren and hot. And yet, as we have already seen, full of life.
1910 - Writing by the light of the braai tonight in Halali Camp. We are all marvelling - and I know I'm using that word a lot, but still, we are marvelling - at the immense luck we've had today. In the space of 90 minutes, in the heat of the day no less, we saw all the animals I already mentioned, plus giraffes, wildebeest and even MORE of everything else. Andre even admits that what we lucked into today is part of the magic of Etosha. Many hot days like today, you won't see anything with the animals taking shelter from the hot African sun. And yet, here we came, unannounced and drove right into a herd of elephants drinking at a water hole, sunning themselves, then thundering majestically, if haltingly, across the plain. It is sights like this one, of nature in full array, in its element that makes Namibia, wild and untamed, worth every moment.
----------------------
THURSDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER
----------------------
0952 - Lions. That is all.
1330 - How is it that I've only been here a day and I'm already getting desensitized to animals? We were just sitting at the Namutoni watering hole literally surrounded by impala and zebra and kudu, and after sitting for just a few minutes, we all just looked at each other and said "Well, it's slow here, let's get back on the road." Never before would I have considered such a scene "dead." But, you know, I've now seen lion and elephant up close and personal. That's gonna change my perceptions. We're taking the afternoon and driving through the Great Etosha Pan, the clay bed of an ancient sea, formed ages ago and dead for centuries. It should bring an interesting change from game viewing, a reversion back to the desolation of Deadvlei.
--------------------
FRIDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER
--------------------
0940 - We have been very lucky so far here in Etosha. But then you have days like today. It's a little warmer and that seems to be keeping the animals out of sight. We did get a treat last night with four rhinoceros at the Halali watering hole, so we have now seen all of Etosha's big boys. Still, despite the lack of animals this morning, the relaxing drive is a fitting close to our visit here.
----------------------
SATURDAY, 16 SEPTEMBER
----------------------
0900 - As we roll down the (paved, thankfully) road towards Outjo and Windhoek, our voyage is officially at an end. We had one more 'Etosha Magic' moment last night. We thought we would take a leisurely stroll to the watering hole and watch the sunset one last time over the Etoshan expanse. Sure enough, jsut as we were getting ready to leave, 20 elephants descend under the red, dying sun for a quick drink. Just when you think you're having a slow day! I am excited to return to Cape Town, despite still having one paper due Monday afternoon which is conspicuously unfinished. This trip has put a lot in prespective for me. Rest assured, I am still an indoor kid. My thought, upon waking up this morning in our rather cramped tent was, "Ah ha! I survived." I will not necessarily miss that part, nor the fact that I have showered in five days, nor shaven in nine. My left leg is shredded, and my feet are blistered from wearing shoes without socks for eight days. I'm getting pretty tired of the strains of "Rooi Rok Bakkie" and other Afrikaans pop music. Seriously, I honestly cannot believe anyone would like it, but Andre seems to be a pretty big fan. But then I remember dawn at Dune 45, roaming with elephants, wandering through the desert and all the other wonderful parts of the trip (even quad biking...you know, up to the 'almost breaking my leg' part) and realize I wouldn't trade a minute of it for a shave, shower or proper bed.
-------------------
FRIDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER
-------------------
2300 - We arrived in Windhoek this evening to a cloudy desert sky. Just my luck, the one time in my entire life that I go to the desert, it rains. As we pulled into the gate at Hosea Kutako International Airport, so 50km to the west of the capital, the dying sun poked through the clouds as it fought its losing battle against the desert night. We drove out into the desert in a minivan, shepherded into Windhoek by a minibus driver named Corrie, and watched the increasingly reddening orb as it fell beneath the distant mountains and night fell across the vast expanse. We arrived at the Cardboard Box hostel just after nightfall to a brewing happy hour of American emigres and a gaggle of fellow travellers. We met Per, a Swede, who can only be described as "on a mission." Having spent 2 1/2 years in Australia, Per and some other random friends he has met along the way are driving a Land Rover from Cape Town to Sweden. (Google "cruisingcontinents.com" for more information). It makes our National Lampoon's-esque journey look like a walk in the park. He will traverse about every war-torn area in the world - including, but not limited to, Uganda, Sudan, and the Middle East - before returning home to Stockholm. Also, as I mentioned earlier, we ran into a bunch of American college students just getting started on their program at the University of Namibia. Spent a good deal of time talking politics and development with them (and college basketball, as a few of them went to Chapel Hill, and I, of course, am an avowed Duke Blue Devils fan) over more than a few Tafel lagers, the finest Namibia has to offer. Amazingly, I'm looking forward to tomorrow's early wake-up call as I settle in for a night's rest. To explore the vastness of this country will be quite an adventure, I'm sure. To see places and experience things I otherwise never would, nor of which I have never even conceived. The differences, the 180-degree turnabout from anything in my consciousness, that is what makes this moment, this journey so special.
---------------------
SATURDAY, 9 SEPTEMBER
---------------------
0945 - We are officially off the beaten path. Having met our guide, Andre Blaauw of Foxtrot Tours, this morning at the backpackers, we journeyed south from Windhoek on the route to Sesriem and Sossusvlei. As our red minibus rolled down the B1, we left behind the last vestiges of civilization and began traversing the savannah. Guarded by mountains on each side, the paved road, soon to be a novelty was long and straight only the occasional undulation. We made a brief stop at Rehoboth (I wanted to take a picture in my "Why Not Us?" t-shirt and send it to Red Sox Color Commentator Jerry Remy, but alas, there wasn't time) to pick up supplies (Beer). As I write this entry, we are on the C24 gravel road, having left pavement behind as we wind our way throught the mountains towards Sesriem and our stop for the evening. The vegetation is growing a bit sparser now, and the smell of desert dust fills the air.
1130 - "Road to Nowhere" by the Talking Heads comes over the stereo. A little on the nose, don't you think?
1135 - "I bless the rains down in AAAAAAAAAAAAA-frica..." Yeah, so that happened. Kevin's a pretty awesome DJ.
1215 - We take a journeyman's lunch of roast beef sandwiches amidst the towering Naukluft mountains. These sentries guard the semi-arid savannah we've been driving through all morning from the Namib Desert, which at 85 million years old, is the world's oldest, according to Andre. We're climbing the switchbacks now, on our way into the sand seas, where life itself is endangered by nature on a daily basis.
1520 - We are now settled in at Sesriem Campground. Wiled away the day's heat in the pool, lounging with what sounded like Angolan Portuguese as well as some other Capetonians. With the heat dissipating, we are headed to Elim's Dune for an evening hike. As we enter the Namib-Naukluft Park on the Sossusvlei Road, we can the vegetation, or lack of it, changing rapidly from savannah into desert. We should see an even more marked change at Sossusvlei tomorrow, but Elim's Dune, red and off in the distance, should be a good introduction.
1645 - "CAN'T STOP! CANNOT STOP!!! AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" That's the sound I make when I run, full bore, down a giant sand dune. I made the hardest 1km (not vertical) of my life all the way to the top, and despite spending about 10 minutes trying not to vomit, the view was astounding. We all sat in wonder and awe as the beautiful desolation lay out before us. Each of us, to a man, asking, "Where are we, and how in hell did we get here?" We all know the answer now: "This is Africa, and by sheer force of will."
--------------------
SUNDAY, 10 SEPTEMBER
--------------------
0600 - One night of camping down, we set out for Sossusvlei in the pre-dawn Sunday morning calm. Managed to survive the night relatively comfortably and without animal or insect interaction. Moonlight on the dunes creates an ethereal fog, painting the landscape in a grey mist as the night begins its transfer of power to the day.
0640 - Still on the Sossusvlei Road. As we move west, the dawn begins to break over the dunes. The grey pallor of moonlight has given way to a host of hues; reds, pinks, fiery burnt orange and faint blue. The day is at hand now.
0820 - The heat of the day is already gathering as we continue on from Dune 45 to Deadvlei and Sossusvlei. Running (and falling...and getting up and running and falling again) down Dune 45 was quite the experience. I almost wish I had skis and could have carves my way down the virgin, ephemeral surface. As we leapt and - Kevin's word here - "pranced" down the duneside, the incredibly carefree nature of the moment gripped me. It was like being 5 years old at O'Maley School with Kate and Patrick rolling down the hill while our moms walked the track. Though I came up literally covered in red dune sand, and I had absolutely no desire to walk back up and try it again - both marked departures from my youthful adventures - here I was, in Africa, marvelling, both at nature in 360 degrees, and in the hindsight of my own journey here.
1045 - Never has there been a more appropriate name than Deadvlei. The clay bed, surrounded by the tallest dunes in the Namib is quite literally bereft of life. The most eerie sensation was hearing the chirping of birds, signs of life with dead, 900-year old, standing trees. Our own existences questioned in a place where life is not meant to thrive.
--------------------
MONDAY, 11 SEPTEMBER
--------------------
0730 - We set off for Swakopmund under the glow of yet another beautiful desert dawn. Spent one last fun night at the campground, discussing issues of import. At one point, we began talking about Steve Biko and "Cry Freedom." Andre became interested in our conversation, asking bluntly, "Do you believe everything you see in movies?" We all demeured slightly, knowing Andre's personal history: educated at Stellenbosch - the outpost of Afrikaner nationalist thought, first language of Afrikaans, retired special ops for the South African Defense Forces under the apartheid regime. The conversation moved along haltingly at first, each of us hoping it would be civil. In the end, it was that and also enlightening as Andre gave us a perspective on apartheid that is missed in both U.S. educational circles as well as UCT, the academic bastion of the anti-Apartheid movement. And while I do not agree with his conception of the movement being, in his words, "overblown," I do agree that, in America at least, the issue was largely misunderstood because of misinformation in many circles. Andre spoke of his best friend in the military who was a Black African, and shot dead standing on the line right next to him. Apartheid did breed deep division to be sure, but interestingly, in Andre's words, it also bred a quixotic sense of commonality of being part of a bad situation.
0830 - We are continuing up the C19 towards Solitaire. The grit of the gravel roads begins to settle in my nose and throat. I'm definitely looking forward to our apple tart stop in Solitaire, because as much I am loving this trip and this place and want to take it all in, I'd rather not choke on it!
0930 - Well, I can officially say I went on Spring Break in the Tropics as we pass the sign marking the Tropic of Capricorn. Pretty much, it's just a sign in the middle of the desert with nothing (and I mean, NOTHING) around. Still, a milestone nonetheless.
1415 - "Is that my shin sticking out?!?!?! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" Luckily, it wasn't, but, indoor kid that I am, I managed to roll a 4x4 ATV on my left leg while on the dunes between Walvis Bay and Swakopmund. Only superficial damage, but I did needed to be driven back by our guide. Before the accident, we got soem amazing views of the sand seas with the ocean in the background...at 60km/h. My mom's gonna kill me.
---------------------
TUESDAY, 12 SEPTEMBER
---------------------
1030 - On the road to Hentiesbaai and the Damaraland after a fun night in Swakopmund. In a stunning twist of fate, our fellow interstudy friends who are also travelling in Namibia showed up at the same bar we were at last night. Without email, cell phones or communication of any kind, we somehow knew to find each other at a certain time, in a certain place. Just goes to show, fate will always bring good people together, even in farflung, ex-German colonial outposts. Dinner at Cape to Cairo restaurant was excellent last night as well. I had an excellent kudu steak in mushroom sauce. The choices on the menu showed off the best African cuisine had to offer. We got to share appetizers like fried crocodile, orix in blue cheese sauce and Nigerian-style meatballs. Quite the fete culinaire!
1230 - There are some times Andre stops the minibus and says, "We're here," and we all respond "Uh...we're where exactly?" Just now, we stopped at a "rest area" (read: picnic table in the desert) just short of the Brondberg, Namibia's highest peak. There is literally the mountain and then NOTHING as far as the eye can see. After a quick stop, and toss of the new NERF football we found - miraculously - in Hentiesbaai, we were off again. But, it is becoming increasingly clear that nothing encapsulates the Namibian experience more than the phrase, "We're here."
-----------------------
WEDNESDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER
-----------------------
1350 - We are on the Halali Road inside Etosha National Park. We aren't supposed to be able to see any animals in the heat of the day. Of course, that means we have already seen legions of springbok, zebra and orix. Oh yeah, and about 20 elephants. We haven't even gotten to the campsite yet! This, after last night sleeping - or, in my case, not sleeping - in a dry river bed in the Damaraland with elephants all around us to be heard, though not seen. Etosha is flat, barren and hot. And yet, as we have already seen, full of life.
1910 - Writing by the light of the braai tonight in Halali Camp. We are all marvelling - and I know I'm using that word a lot, but still, we are marvelling - at the immense luck we've had today. In the space of 90 minutes, in the heat of the day no less, we saw all the animals I already mentioned, plus giraffes, wildebeest and even MORE of everything else. Andre even admits that what we lucked into today is part of the magic of Etosha. Many hot days like today, you won't see anything with the animals taking shelter from the hot African sun. And yet, here we came, unannounced and drove right into a herd of elephants drinking at a water hole, sunning themselves, then thundering majestically, if haltingly, across the plain. It is sights like this one, of nature in full array, in its element that makes Namibia, wild and untamed, worth every moment.
----------------------
THURSDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER
----------------------
0952 - Lions. That is all.
1330 - How is it that I've only been here a day and I'm already getting desensitized to animals? We were just sitting at the Namutoni watering hole literally surrounded by impala and zebra and kudu, and after sitting for just a few minutes, we all just looked at each other and said "Well, it's slow here, let's get back on the road." Never before would I have considered such a scene "dead." But, you know, I've now seen lion and elephant up close and personal. That's gonna change my perceptions. We're taking the afternoon and driving through the Great Etosha Pan, the clay bed of an ancient sea, formed ages ago and dead for centuries. It should bring an interesting change from game viewing, a reversion back to the desolation of Deadvlei.
--------------------
FRIDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER
--------------------
0940 - We have been very lucky so far here in Etosha. But then you have days like today. It's a little warmer and that seems to be keeping the animals out of sight. We did get a treat last night with four rhinoceros at the Halali watering hole, so we have now seen all of Etosha's big boys. Still, despite the lack of animals this morning, the relaxing drive is a fitting close to our visit here.
----------------------
SATURDAY, 16 SEPTEMBER
----------------------
0900 - As we roll down the (paved, thankfully) road towards Outjo and Windhoek, our voyage is officially at an end. We had one more 'Etosha Magic' moment last night. We thought we would take a leisurely stroll to the watering hole and watch the sunset one last time over the Etoshan expanse. Sure enough, jsut as we were getting ready to leave, 20 elephants descend under the red, dying sun for a quick drink. Just when you think you're having a slow day! I am excited to return to Cape Town, despite still having one paper due Monday afternoon which is conspicuously unfinished. This trip has put a lot in prespective for me. Rest assured, I am still an indoor kid. My thought, upon waking up this morning in our rather cramped tent was, "Ah ha! I survived." I will not necessarily miss that part, nor the fact that I have showered in five days, nor shaven in nine. My left leg is shredded, and my feet are blistered from wearing shoes without socks for eight days. I'm getting pretty tired of the strains of "Rooi Rok Bakkie" and other Afrikaans pop music. Seriously, I honestly cannot believe anyone would like it, but Andre seems to be a pretty big fan. But then I remember dawn at Dune 45, roaming with elephants, wandering through the desert and all the other wonderful parts of the trip (even quad biking...you know, up to the 'almost breaking my leg' part) and realize I wouldn't trade a minute of it for a shave, shower or proper bed.
07 September 2006
Big Pre-Namibia Changes
I decided I didn't want to shave while I was on safari.
So, for only the third time in ten years, that happened.
Enjoy, see you when I get back.
06 September 2006
Things I Miss, Volume 1: iTunes Music Store
Biggest problem with having megabyte-driven internet: I can't download music.
I mean, I can't. Kevin did it for the new RJD2 album and it cost him about $50. And as much as I want the new Audioslave and, next week, John Mayer albums no way I'm paying like that.
So yeah, if someone wanted to send me a care package with those CDs (God, how archaic is that? A CD!), I might greatly appreciate it.
I really didn't have anything else to say, I'm basically just trying to do anything but either A) study for tomorrow's "Third World Politics" test or B) keep compiling my sociology paper.
P.S. On the subject of sending me cool things, Jill Habig is today's all-star friend. She sent me her textbook from Bordeaux Wine School and included a map I can put on my wall. Cool things like that are always appreciated.
I mean, I can't. Kevin did it for the new RJD2 album and it cost him about $50. And as much as I want the new Audioslave and, next week, John Mayer albums no way I'm paying like that.
So yeah, if someone wanted to send me a care package with those CDs (God, how archaic is that? A CD!), I might greatly appreciate it.
I really didn't have anything else to say, I'm basically just trying to do anything but either A) study for tomorrow's "Third World Politics" test or B) keep compiling my sociology paper.
P.S. On the subject of sending me cool things, Jill Habig is today's all-star friend. She sent me her textbook from Bordeaux Wine School and included a map I can put on my wall. Cool things like that are always appreciated.
Brain Dead
I think I need a vacation. From my vacation. This can't possibly be a good situation. Luckily, I'm getting one starting in about 48 hours (ahem...see below) and that flight to an old colonial outpost in the middle of the desert cannot come fast enough. I spent the last hour or so here in Beattie lab staring at largely blank pages of "writing" about sociology. And that's for one of the two classes I actually enjoy. I have already written two papers in the last week and found out yesterday I may have done one of them incorrectly (though that's starting to look like miscommunication with the TAs more than anything else). I have had zero cultural experiences in the last two weeks here. Since Knysna, all we have done is work, and occasionally pop down to Obz or Claremont for a couple pops where I nearly pass out from being so overworked and overtired. We have, all of us, been wading through academic minutiae in our particular subjects. Spring has even sprung here and I can barely enjoy because I'm doing too much work.
Don't get me wrong, apart from "Third World Politics" (which I put in quotation marks and will continue to until we talk about the third world...or even politics) and the inadequacies of the library (another rant for another time) I'm still having a ball here. But didn't all my friends who went abroad do a lot more work on their tans than in a textbook, or go to museums or meet interesting local people and have interesting cultural experiences?
Oh well, like I said, in 48 hours I'll be in Namibia free from all of the stresses that international universities can bring. And right in the middle of all of the stresses being stared down by a lion who thinks I look tasty can bring.
I can handle that.
Don't get me wrong, apart from "Third World Politics" (which I put in quotation marks and will continue to until we talk about the third world...or even politics) and the inadequacies of the library (another rant for another time) I'm still having a ball here. But didn't all my friends who went abroad do a lot more work on their tans than in a textbook, or go to museums or meet interesting local people and have interesting cultural experiences?
Oh well, like I said, in 48 hours I'll be in Namibia free from all of the stresses that international universities can bring. And right in the middle of all of the stresses being stared down by a lion who thinks I look tasty can bring.
I can handle that.
04 September 2006
Namibia. It's on.
That's right boys and girls, in just four short days I will shuffle off for foreign shores yet again as I embark upon a spring break odyssey to Namibia. Matt, Kevin, Mark and I will be taking a private safari, hitting all the highlights. Here's our itinerary so you can get jealous. (I realize I make you jealous a lot. Rest assured, I'm perfectly okay with that.)
Day 1: Fly from Cape Town to Windhoek and overnight in a hostel.
Day 2: Begin our safari tour by traveling to Sesriem, home of a huge canyon and right near...
Day 3: Dawn at Dune 45, Sossusvlei. For the uninitiated, that is apparently the spot where heaven and earth meet the rising sun. (Not my description, totally ganked from some travel diary online. But I can't wait to see it.) Then travel to Swakopmund for an afternoon of sandboarding and/or quad biking. My roommates may skydive. I, of course, will not.
Day 4: More of sunny, seaside Swakopmund (That's where Angelina Jolie had Brad Pitt's baby, by the way - not that I care, I just thought you might...though Angelina Jolie is really, really hot) before setting off back towards Windhoek on the way to Etosha National Park.
Day 5: Arrive at Etosha, proceed to see/get eaten by lions, rhinos, elephants, water buffalo, etc.
Day 6: More animals and camping.
Day 7: Even MORE Etosha!
Day 8: One last game drive through the herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically across the plain before returning to Windhoek for our flight back to Cape Town.
So I'd say that's an action packed week. I'll work on getting some pictures up when I get back. Pretty sure you'll want to see those.
Cheers.
Day 1: Fly from Cape Town to Windhoek and overnight in a hostel.
Day 2: Begin our safari tour by traveling to Sesriem, home of a huge canyon and right near...
Day 3: Dawn at Dune 45, Sossusvlei. For the uninitiated, that is apparently the spot where heaven and earth meet the rising sun. (Not my description, totally ganked from some travel diary online. But I can't wait to see it.) Then travel to Swakopmund for an afternoon of sandboarding and/or quad biking. My roommates may skydive. I, of course, will not.
Day 4: More of sunny, seaside Swakopmund (That's where Angelina Jolie had Brad Pitt's baby, by the way - not that I care, I just thought you might...though Angelina Jolie is really, really hot) before setting off back towards Windhoek on the way to Etosha National Park.
Day 5: Arrive at Etosha, proceed to see/get eaten by lions, rhinos, elephants, water buffalo, etc.
Day 6: More animals and camping.
Day 7: Even MORE Etosha!
Day 8: One last game drive through the herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically across the plain before returning to Windhoek for our flight back to Cape Town.
So I'd say that's an action packed week. I'll work on getting some pictures up when I get back. Pretty sure you'll want to see those.
Cheers.
02 September 2006
Jon Lester
Some thoughts this morning on a matter of grave concern from back home.
A lot of you know how seriously I take the Boston Red Sox. I am lucky enough to be a Bostonian, through and through, and the Red Sox provide me with 162 days of joy, consternation, blood, sweat and tears every spring, summer and fall. It consumes all of us in Boston, a part of our lives that only religion and family can match for those 162 days.
But all that is silent now, unimportant in the face of the diagnosis last night of lymphoma for Jon Lester.
I awoke early this morning in Cape Town to the sad and, frankly, horrifying news. To be 22 and having to stare down cancer must be unbelievably frightening. Luckily, the form of cancer Lester has been diagnosed with is eminently treatable, and, thanks to the incredible "luck" of a minor car accident a week ago, it was caught early. Despite the fact that baseball is the least important part of his life right now, Jon's teammates are already encouraged that Jon will rejoin them next spring in Fort Myers and be able to return to his status as a rising star in the major leagues.
Whether Jon Lester wins another game, or strikes out another hitter with that nasty moving fastball of his are not important, however. He is about to face down his worst, most fearsome enemy. And just like he does every fifth night for the Red Sox, I have full confidence that this is a battle Lester intends to win.
Red Sox Nation (both Cape Town and Boston chapters, as well as all the others around the globe) are pulling for you Jon. Be well.
---
Support the fight against cancer for Jon Lester and the thousands of other children and adults stricken each year, go to www.jimmyfund.com and make a donation today.
A lot of you know how seriously I take the Boston Red Sox. I am lucky enough to be a Bostonian, through and through, and the Red Sox provide me with 162 days of joy, consternation, blood, sweat and tears every spring, summer and fall. It consumes all of us in Boston, a part of our lives that only religion and family can match for those 162 days.
But all that is silent now, unimportant in the face of the diagnosis last night of lymphoma for Jon Lester.
I awoke early this morning in Cape Town to the sad and, frankly, horrifying news. To be 22 and having to stare down cancer must be unbelievably frightening. Luckily, the form of cancer Lester has been diagnosed with is eminently treatable, and, thanks to the incredible "luck" of a minor car accident a week ago, it was caught early. Despite the fact that baseball is the least important part of his life right now, Jon's teammates are already encouraged that Jon will rejoin them next spring in Fort Myers and be able to return to his status as a rising star in the major leagues.
Whether Jon Lester wins another game, or strikes out another hitter with that nasty moving fastball of his are not important, however. He is about to face down his worst, most fearsome enemy. And just like he does every fifth night for the Red Sox, I have full confidence that this is a battle Lester intends to win.
Red Sox Nation (both Cape Town and Boston chapters, as well as all the others around the globe) are pulling for you Jon. Be well.
---
Support the fight against cancer for Jon Lester and the thousands of other children and adults stricken each year, go to www.jimmyfund.com and make a donation today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
