::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.
22 September 2006
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.
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THURSDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER
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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.
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FRIDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER
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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.
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SATURDAY, 16 SEPTEMBER
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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.
30 August 2006
Have More Fun And Write About It
Jon Carlson: I'm calling you out.
I got a very angry - and, I might add, poorly worded - message on facebook this afternoon from one Jonathan Carlson - who himself does not have a blog, or a life of enough interest to warrant one - calling on me to post more about the interesting things that I do.
Now, I think it's pretty clear that I do interesting things from time to time, and I write about them. This week, however, as I may have already mentioned, I get to spend a lot of time exploring the Oppenheimer Library at UCT, researching subjects like The Bolivarian Revolution in Venezuela - though that has essentially become Christine and I trying desperately to stave off boredom, Migrant Labour on Natal and Louisiana sugar plantations, and Urban Inequality in Johannesburg and other global cities.
As you can imagine, my ability to conquer the hun or leap tall buildings in a single bound is severely curtailed by my need to do research. So Jon, if you wanted me to write about my wonderfully boring life at the behest of acedemia, there it is. I hope you're happy with that, but I still do not agree with that in the workplace.
Ok, now that I'm done broadcasting inside jokes to the outside world, I'm gonna get back to my papers now.
Cheers.
I got a very angry - and, I might add, poorly worded - message on facebook this afternoon from one Jonathan Carlson - who himself does not have a blog, or a life of enough interest to warrant one - calling on me to post more about the interesting things that I do.
Now, I think it's pretty clear that I do interesting things from time to time, and I write about them. This week, however, as I may have already mentioned, I get to spend a lot of time exploring the Oppenheimer Library at UCT, researching subjects like The Bolivarian Revolution in Venezuela - though that has essentially become Christine and I trying desperately to stave off boredom, Migrant Labour on Natal and Louisiana sugar plantations, and Urban Inequality in Johannesburg and other global cities.
As you can imagine, my ability to conquer the hun or leap tall buildings in a single bound is severely curtailed by my need to do research. So Jon, if you wanted me to write about my wonderfully boring life at the behest of acedemia, there it is. I hope you're happy with that, but I still do not agree with that in the workplace.
Ok, now that I'm done broadcasting inside jokes to the outside world, I'm gonna get back to my papers now.
Cheers.
26 August 2006
"Winter"
I really don't have a post to write here. It's 80 degrees Fahrenheit here today, so I've spent the whole day bronzing under the hot African sun in the front yard of the Compound. Basically, my brain is completely disengaged. Really a fantastic day all around. Might go to a bar on the beach later, it's that nice.
In a side note, I see on Weather.com that it's 70 degrees with a chance of rain this weekend in Boston. So either way, we're both having nice spring days.
Here's the problem with that. It's late summer in Boston, generally some of the hottest days, getting those last few trips to the beach in before going back to school. Of course, here in Cape Town, it's winter. Yup, spring doesn't even start for a few weeks yet.
But seriously, enjoy late summer in Boston. Might want to take a sweater along for later. Brrr!
Cheers.
In a side note, I see on Weather.com that it's 70 degrees with a chance of rain this weekend in Boston. So either way, we're both having nice spring days.
Here's the problem with that. It's late summer in Boston, generally some of the hottest days, getting those last few trips to the beach in before going back to school. Of course, here in Cape Town, it's winter. Yup, spring doesn't even start for a few weeks yet.
But seriously, enjoy late summer in Boston. Might want to take a sweater along for later. Brrr!
Cheers.
25 August 2006
Ahem...VOTE!
Just got my absentee ballot in the mail. There's something special about being a "Democrat Abroad" and keeping tabs on home in this way. Anywhere we go in the world, we are still Americans - somedays, for better or worse - but in this case, I can sit down in front of Table Mountain on a beautiful spring day here in Rosebank and express my democratic rights to choose my leaders. A right which so many people, black and white have fought and died for over centuries, both at home in America and right here in South Africa.
All that said, I do have a political statement to make here. I want you all to know that I am supporting Deval Patrick for Governor and Worcester Mayor Tim Murray for Lieutenant Governor of the Commonwealth in the upcoming election and I encourage you to do the same if you are voting in Massachusetts. Ours is a state that has been bereft of leadership over the last 16 years with the GOP in the Corner Office, and it is time we had an executive who had the wherewithal to manage the Commonwealth's enormous potential. Deval Patrick and Tim Murray have those capabilities. They will bring new ideas and new directions to an office which has been used simply to stonewall the progressive measures which the Legislature has tried to pass over the last two decades. With a Democratic Governor and a Democratic Legislature, we can finally achieve the promise of the Massachusetts Miracle and once again assert our rightful place as the leading state in the Union. So I encourage you to support Deval and Tim in the Democratic Primary on 19 September and then it's on to victory in November!
All that said, I do have a political statement to make here. I want you all to know that I am supporting Deval Patrick for Governor and Worcester Mayor Tim Murray for Lieutenant Governor of the Commonwealth in the upcoming election and I encourage you to do the same if you are voting in Massachusetts. Ours is a state that has been bereft of leadership over the last 16 years with the GOP in the Corner Office, and it is time we had an executive who had the wherewithal to manage the Commonwealth's enormous potential. Deval Patrick and Tim Murray have those capabilities. They will bring new ideas and new directions to an office which has been used simply to stonewall the progressive measures which the Legislature has tried to pass over the last two decades. With a Democratic Governor and a Democratic Legislature, we can finally achieve the promise of the Massachusetts Miracle and once again assert our rightful place as the leading state in the Union. So I encourage you to support Deval and Tim in the Democratic Primary on 19 September and then it's on to victory in November!
24 August 2006
Keepin' It Light, Keepin' it Fresh (Back In Action Edition!)
A few quick notes on an overcast Thursday morning here in Rosebank:
- Had my first bout with sickness in Africa yesterday. Despite my parents' claims that I was suffering from amoebic dysentery, or the plague, or possibly "African Death Sickness," it turned out, as I had surmised, to be the 24-hour flu. You know, the same one we get at home. Probably turned out to be a good thing in the end, I got to spend the whole day in bed, even got a little work done, but more importantly was able to watch Anchorman, Bourne Supremacy, Holy Grail (with the Eric Idle, Michael Palin and John Cleese commentary - which is hysterical by the way), and all of Series 2 of the Office all in one day. The chills, fever and body aches were but a small price to pay for entertainment like that. Alright, so it was a pretty big price to pay, but still...
- Got my first African haircut the other day. Now, those who know me now that I am VERY particular about my hair. Also, I rarely, if ever, trust me my hair to a non-Italian. Nevertheless, I set out Tuesday, got in a minibus and made the short trip to Riverside Mall in Rondebosch for the Step Ahead Salon. I was a bit less apprehensive than I might normally have been as Kevin had already gotten a decent haircut there, still, not being in Franco's trusted hands gave me pause. Luckily, a very nice woman named Beverly took good care of me and I got a very good haircut. Thus, I can continue to be my incredibly sexy self for another 4-6 weeks.
- Contemplating going to Namibia for Spring Break. Anybody with any thoughts on the matter, drop them in a comment. A bunch of us are thinking of flying to Windhoek, driving through Etosha National Park for 3-4 days, seeing lions, tigers and...well, rhinos, I guess, before heading to the coast at Swakopmund and Walvis Bay for a day or two of sandboarding, etc. before returning to Windhoek and flying home.
- Finally, blogging might become a bit more infrequent over the next week or two. I have all three of my midterm papers due in fairly short order. So, if you don't hear from me for a while, rest assured, I have not succumbed to "African Death Sickness" I'm just in term paper hell.
Cheers.
- Had my first bout with sickness in Africa yesterday. Despite my parents' claims that I was suffering from amoebic dysentery, or the plague, or possibly "African Death Sickness," it turned out, as I had surmised, to be the 24-hour flu. You know, the same one we get at home. Probably turned out to be a good thing in the end, I got to spend the whole day in bed, even got a little work done, but more importantly was able to watch Anchorman, Bourne Supremacy, Holy Grail (with the Eric Idle, Michael Palin and John Cleese commentary - which is hysterical by the way), and all of Series 2 of the Office all in one day. The chills, fever and body aches were but a small price to pay for entertainment like that. Alright, so it was a pretty big price to pay, but still...
- Got my first African haircut the other day. Now, those who know me now that I am VERY particular about my hair. Also, I rarely, if ever, trust me my hair to a non-Italian. Nevertheless, I set out Tuesday, got in a minibus and made the short trip to Riverside Mall in Rondebosch for the Step Ahead Salon. I was a bit less apprehensive than I might normally have been as Kevin had already gotten a decent haircut there, still, not being in Franco's trusted hands gave me pause. Luckily, a very nice woman named Beverly took good care of me and I got a very good haircut. Thus, I can continue to be my incredibly sexy self for another 4-6 weeks.
- Contemplating going to Namibia for Spring Break. Anybody with any thoughts on the matter, drop them in a comment. A bunch of us are thinking of flying to Windhoek, driving through Etosha National Park for 3-4 days, seeing lions, tigers and...well, rhinos, I guess, before heading to the coast at Swakopmund and Walvis Bay for a day or two of sandboarding, etc. before returning to Windhoek and flying home.
- Finally, blogging might become a bit more infrequent over the next week or two. I have all three of my midterm papers due in fairly short order. So, if you don't hear from me for a while, rest assured, I have not succumbed to "African Death Sickness" I'm just in term paper hell.
Cheers.
22 August 2006
Ba-Rock Star!
Barack Obama came to Cape Town last night. Seriously, how clutch is that?
A few of us set out to Queen Victoria Street to see the junior Senator from Illinois as he continues along his 15-nation trip through Africa. His speech was fairly standard, hit all the high notes. I especially liked his use of FDR's Four Freedoms to talk about hope and fear in the new post-9/11 world. The best part of the evening by far, however, was the question and answer period. Obama showed himself, once again, to be very adept at interacting with a crowd, taking a wide range of questions from both Africans and Americans, including one, wearing a pink polo shirt sitting in the third row, who asked the following:
"Senator, I want to ask you a question about similarities and differences. Forty years ago, a man who served in the very same august body in which you now sit, Robert Kennedy, came here to Cape Town, stood in the student union building at UCT said “I come here tonight to speak about a country, settled by the Dutch, fueled by agriculture, which has rebelled against its colonial masters, and today fights many racial battles. I speak of course of the United States of America.” We have similarities. Likewise, in my own experiences here in South Africa, I have talked to so many people from whom I have derived a sense of hope, for the future, for the promises of 1994. The country which I left about a month ago – your country, our country – is today gripped by a palpable sense of fear in our communities. We have differences. Senator, my question is this: in your short time here in South Africa, what similarities and differences do you see between these two nations, and also, what one lesson will you take back, in your position of great power, from South Africa to the U.S.?"
Yup, I had my moment. It was lovely. The Senator gave a good answer to the question, again talking about hope and fear and promises made as opposed to promises kept.
Gotta say, it was a magical moment.
A few of us set out to Queen Victoria Street to see the junior Senator from Illinois as he continues along his 15-nation trip through Africa. His speech was fairly standard, hit all the high notes. I especially liked his use of FDR's Four Freedoms to talk about hope and fear in the new post-9/11 world. The best part of the evening by far, however, was the question and answer period. Obama showed himself, once again, to be very adept at interacting with a crowd, taking a wide range of questions from both Africans and Americans, including one, wearing a pink polo shirt sitting in the third row, who asked the following:
"Senator, I want to ask you a question about similarities and differences. Forty years ago, a man who served in the very same august body in which you now sit, Robert Kennedy, came here to Cape Town, stood in the student union building at UCT said “I come here tonight to speak about a country, settled by the Dutch, fueled by agriculture, which has rebelled against its colonial masters, and today fights many racial battles. I speak of course of the United States of America.” We have similarities. Likewise, in my own experiences here in South Africa, I have talked to so many people from whom I have derived a sense of hope, for the future, for the promises of 1994. The country which I left about a month ago – your country, our country – is today gripped by a palpable sense of fear in our communities. We have differences. Senator, my question is this: in your short time here in South Africa, what similarities and differences do you see between these two nations, and also, what one lesson will you take back, in your position of great power, from South Africa to the U.S.?"
Yup, I had my moment. It was lovely. The Senator gave a good answer to the question, again talking about hope and fear and promises made as opposed to promises kept.
Gotta say, it was a magical moment.
21 August 2006
Into the Abyss
Mark, Sara, Kevin and I made the 6-hour journey this past weekend to Knysna (NIES-nuh) up the Garden Route at the edge of the Western Cape. It was a beautiful little town, despite the winter weather and it being the off-season. It actually really reminded me of home a bit, a quiet little seaside town with a few local shops, decent restaurants and a scenic waterfront. Except that Gloucester is not on a lagoon guarded by two giant rock outcroppings called, simply, "The Heads." The excitement of the weekend truly came when Kevin, Mark and Sara decided to make the journey to Bloukrans Bridge on Saturday to make the world's highest bungy jump. As you probably already guessed, I decided to watch them make the world's highest bungy jump, rather than participating. Kevin was even a little squeamish about jumping 216 metres - that's 702 feet to you and me - tied only to an admittedly large piece of elastic. However, he quickly decided to do it upon arrival, not least because he was talked into it by Lindsay Clubine, who we met at the jump site.
Who is Lindsay Clubine you ask? (Remember, I am not making any of this up, and there were witnesses.) Lindsay is better known as Model #26 from the hit American game show, "Deal or No Deal." She also does work for HDNet, going adventure travelling across the globe and filming it for a programme called "Get Out!" Oh right, and she was recently named one of People Magazine's 100 Most Beautiful People in the world.
I repeat, I am making none of this up. You can check IMDB.
So needless to say, after some gentle urging, squeamish Kevin turned into manly Kevin and decided to essentially jump out of a 70-story building towards a river below.
It was definitely fun to watch these idiots cheat death though. They were in freefall for 8 seconds. (I may have to have a guest blog from one of them to tell you exactly what it feels like.) Yeah, 8 seconds. That's before the cord catches you. Essentially, it's about as close as you can get to sky diving without jumping out of a plane. I took some fun pictures, I'll post them on
facebook when I get the chance. You won't believe how far 216 metres really is.
Like I said, I'm glad I watched.
Cheers.
P.S. I'm going to go see Barack Obama (!) speak here in Cape Town in about an hour. I'm pretty sure I'll have a report on that later.
P.P.S. Somebody watch the next installment of "Deal or No Deal" for me and let me know if #26 is as amazingly hot on television as she is in real life.
Who is Lindsay Clubine you ask? (Remember, I am not making any of this up, and there were witnesses.) Lindsay is better known as Model #26 from the hit American game show, "Deal or No Deal." She also does work for HDNet, going adventure travelling across the globe and filming it for a programme called "Get Out!" Oh right, and she was recently named one of People Magazine's 100 Most Beautiful People in the world.
I repeat, I am making none of this up. You can check IMDB.
So needless to say, after some gentle urging, squeamish Kevin turned into manly Kevin and decided to essentially jump out of a 70-story building towards a river below.
It was definitely fun to watch these idiots cheat death though. They were in freefall for 8 seconds. (I may have to have a guest blog from one of them to tell you exactly what it feels like.) Yeah, 8 seconds. That's before the cord catches you. Essentially, it's about as close as you can get to sky diving without jumping out of a plane. I took some fun pictures, I'll post them on
facebook when I get the chance. You won't believe how far 216 metres really is.
Like I said, I'm glad I watched.
Cheers.
P.S. I'm going to go see Barack Obama (!) speak here in Cape Town in about an hour. I'm pretty sure I'll have a report on that later.
P.P.S. Somebody watch the next installment of "Deal or No Deal" for me and let me know if #26 is as amazingly hot on television as she is in real life.
15 August 2006
Embargoes are Stupid
As we went out last night to celebrate my housemate Sara's 20th birthday and had dinner at Five Flies in Cape Town, the time eventually came for dessert. In lieu of any of the tasty items on the dessert menu (the chocolate fondant sounded sublime), I decided to enjoy a glass of Jameson on the rocks, and a Cuban cigar. And not just any cigar mind you, oh no, I smoked an H. Upmann, just like President Kennedy.
For thsoe who don't know the story, one night the President called Pierre Salinger into the Oval Office and asked a favor of his loyal press secretary. His task for the evening was to go out into Washington and buy 1000 Petite Upmanns. Salinger returned in the morning after an all-night search with 1200. When he told the President of his finding, Kennedy reached into his desk and pulled out one sheet of paper and signed it. With that stroke of the pen, and for every day since, Americans have been forbidden from purchasing anything manufactured on the island nation, including their heavenly hand-rolled cigars.
While that embargo lasts to this day, in South Africa, no such restrictions exist. And thus, I walked to the bar yesterday evening, struck a match, and lit an Upmann, just as President Kennedy had done many times in the past and sat with Jason and Matt as we discussed cigars, Cuba, and life in general.
Best 110 rands I ever spent.
For thsoe who don't know the story, one night the President called Pierre Salinger into the Oval Office and asked a favor of his loyal press secretary. His task for the evening was to go out into Washington and buy 1000 Petite Upmanns. Salinger returned in the morning after an all-night search with 1200. When he told the President of his finding, Kennedy reached into his desk and pulled out one sheet of paper and signed it. With that stroke of the pen, and for every day since, Americans have been forbidden from purchasing anything manufactured on the island nation, including their heavenly hand-rolled cigars.
While that embargo lasts to this day, in South Africa, no such restrictions exist. And thus, I walked to the bar yesterday evening, struck a match, and lit an Upmann, just as President Kennedy had done many times in the past and sat with Jason and Matt as we discussed cigars, Cuba, and life in general.
Best 110 rands I ever spent.
14 August 2006
I'm Abseiling! I AM ABSEILING!!!
(A little "What About Bob?" reference to start off a rainy Monday always helps.)
So yes, I did it, I abseiled in Africa. I walked to the side of a cliff (Ok, it was a 12 metre cliff, but still, a cliff) and proceeded to walk - and jump, just a little - down the side of a sheer rock face. The fact that the process of getting over the rock face took about 5 minutes while the entire time I was about one slip away from vomiting is completely inconsequential. I walked backwards down a cliff and you didn't. So there.
The abseiling, however, was merely a capstone to a wonderfully relaxing weekend away with my interstudy pals in the Breede River Valley. Well, once the rain and wind stopped it was relaxing anyway. Upon our arrival Friday night, we were greeted with exceptionally cold temperatures (between 5-10 degrees celsius), gale force winds and driving rain. Just the kind of weather I like when staying in an tin roof A-Frame "chalet" with a canvas "door." Needless to say, despite the heavy intake of Windhoek Lager from the bar, I didn't sleep very well Friday night.
Saturday, however, was quite the turnabout. As the sun rose over the Breede River below, I could see for miles down the river to the right from Tent #6, where Matt and I were lodged for the weekend's festivities. The "Up the Creek" camp where we were staying was beautifully positioned for such days as Saturday, when the sun illuminated the valley, as the river flowed beneath us and the gentle breezes wafted through the farmers' fields all around.
We then set off for our rafting adventure by getting loaded in the back of a large pickup truck and being driven about 7km or so back up the river to our sister camp "Round the Bend." From there, in our inflatable river rafting boats, my crewmate Jason and I set out for a leisurely afternoon's float back down the Breede, with an occasional Class 1 "rapid" along the way. We tried our best to keep people on their toes by approaching our friends at ramming speed, and entertained by singing some old favorites (Jason's selections were mostly from Bob Marley, though I chose the more sedate, dulcet tones of Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" as my river song) as we made our way back to the campsite.
We burned the midnight oil on Saturday night as, fresh our rafting adventure, we all needed some time to relax and chat and have a good time together. Plus, just about every muscle in my body hurt from rowing 7km, so it was nice to just sit by the fire and enjoy the brilliant night sky. At one point, Sue, our tour guide, had the Up the Creek folks turn all the lights off so we could see the Southern stars before the moon rose. With my father as an amateur astronomer, I spent a lot of time gazing towards the heavens in my youth, but I have to tell you, I never saw anything quite like the valley sky on Saturday. The Southern Cross looked like celestial lightbulbs, obscured only sightly by the sight of the Milky Way Galaxy which stretched as thin, wispy vapour from horizon to horizon and shone brilliantly against the thousands of other visible stars in the heavens. Of course, as we all stood aghast, marvelling at the natural wonders above us, Sue says "Eh, this is nothing, you should go to Toktokkie in Namibia! They have sure do have some stars there." Guess I'll have to do that, for comparative purposes.
Then, before we left Sunday afternoon, I walked over the side of a cliff. You know, pretty normal stuff for me.
Cheers.
So yes, I did it, I abseiled in Africa. I walked to the side of a cliff (Ok, it was a 12 metre cliff, but still, a cliff) and proceeded to walk - and jump, just a little - down the side of a sheer rock face. The fact that the process of getting over the rock face took about 5 minutes while the entire time I was about one slip away from vomiting is completely inconsequential. I walked backwards down a cliff and you didn't. So there.
The abseiling, however, was merely a capstone to a wonderfully relaxing weekend away with my interstudy pals in the Breede River Valley. Well, once the rain and wind stopped it was relaxing anyway. Upon our arrival Friday night, we were greeted with exceptionally cold temperatures (between 5-10 degrees celsius), gale force winds and driving rain. Just the kind of weather I like when staying in an tin roof A-Frame "chalet" with a canvas "door." Needless to say, despite the heavy intake of Windhoek Lager from the bar, I didn't sleep very well Friday night.
Saturday, however, was quite the turnabout. As the sun rose over the Breede River below, I could see for miles down the river to the right from Tent #6, where Matt and I were lodged for the weekend's festivities. The "Up the Creek" camp where we were staying was beautifully positioned for such days as Saturday, when the sun illuminated the valley, as the river flowed beneath us and the gentle breezes wafted through the farmers' fields all around.
We then set off for our rafting adventure by getting loaded in the back of a large pickup truck and being driven about 7km or so back up the river to our sister camp "Round the Bend." From there, in our inflatable river rafting boats, my crewmate Jason and I set out for a leisurely afternoon's float back down the Breede, with an occasional Class 1 "rapid" along the way. We tried our best to keep people on their toes by approaching our friends at ramming speed, and entertained by singing some old favorites (Jason's selections were mostly from Bob Marley, though I chose the more sedate, dulcet tones of Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" as my river song) as we made our way back to the campsite.
We burned the midnight oil on Saturday night as, fresh our rafting adventure, we all needed some time to relax and chat and have a good time together. Plus, just about every muscle in my body hurt from rowing 7km, so it was nice to just sit by the fire and enjoy the brilliant night sky. At one point, Sue, our tour guide, had the Up the Creek folks turn all the lights off so we could see the Southern stars before the moon rose. With my father as an amateur astronomer, I spent a lot of time gazing towards the heavens in my youth, but I have to tell you, I never saw anything quite like the valley sky on Saturday. The Southern Cross looked like celestial lightbulbs, obscured only sightly by the sight of the Milky Way Galaxy which stretched as thin, wispy vapour from horizon to horizon and shone brilliantly against the thousands of other visible stars in the heavens. Of course, as we all stood aghast, marvelling at the natural wonders above us, Sue says "Eh, this is nothing, you should go to Toktokkie in Namibia! They have sure do have some stars there." Guess I'll have to do that, for comparative purposes.
Then, before we left Sunday afternoon, I walked over the side of a cliff. You know, pretty normal stuff for me.
Cheers.
10 August 2006
Keepin' It Light, Keepin' It Fresh
So it's Thursday morning, I don't have class until 1pm and I feel like blowing through some internet credits. Here are some thoughts that while interesting and different probably don't merit their own post. It's kind of like a "Friday Boxed Lunch" vibe over at all-the-dirt.blogspot.com. I wonder whatever happened to that guy, he doesn't blog anymore...
- Got up early this morning and went to Cavendish Square over in Claremont, which is the big mall, to go to Cape Union Mart and buy a fleece and jacket for my whitewater rafting trip this weekend. First off, yes, I'm going whitewater rafting this weekend. But you know, I'm pretty outdoorsy, so it should be fun. (Oh wait...not that.) Anyway, so I go and buy a really nice, "Proudly South African" K-Way fleece and slicker. Take it up to the till and the woman behind the desk informs me, "That'll be 1100 bucks." Oh god, what have I done, these jackets must be woven with spun gold or something. Then I remember "bucks" is used interchangably with "rands." Which, I mean, that's still a lot of money, but not enough to buy a used car at least. I'm still getting used to thinking in rands though. I've figured out that when I go to Mr. Noodle for lunch up on campus and get change back from a R20 bill, it's a deal. But if I pay more than R10 for a drink at a bar, I'm getting ripped off. Still, the thought of paying 1100 for anything was still a little, shall we say, off-putting.
- The ride over to the mall was fun too. I took a minibus cab. For the uninitiated, the minibus is truly the white-knuckle, thrill ride of the millenium. The fleet is mostly beaten up late-80s model VW buses retrofitted with literally, as many seats as they can fit inside, a steering wheel (sometimes) and a gear shift. Some models even have doors. Ok, all models have doors, but the driver's assistant, who serves as the conductor on this little journey, collecting money and figuring out the pattern of stops, usually pops the door open as we fly down the Main Road, barking "Cape Town! Cape Town! Cab! Cab!" in an attempt to lure in the next R4 fare. I had a particularly "fun" ride over to the mall this morning because we had a special guest driver: Mario Andretti. At least, he thought he was Mario Andretti, or some terrible NASCAR driver or something. To say this guy was weaving through traffic doesn't do his technique justice. I think at one point he was up on the sidewalk trying to get around a lorry. Needless to say, I, and the other 11 passengers in the half full minibus, were quite pleased when we reached our stop in one piece.
- Ok, new subject. One of the main differences I've found since I've been here is the predominance of prepaid everything. Literally everything. Not just cell phones, I mean we prepay for electricity, and you can buy electric credits at most gas stations. I also prepay for internet, which is why I tend to use it as infrequently as I can. You pay by megabyte downloaded, so if you send me pictures or something, chances are I won't see them until I get back in December - just as an aside. But this kind of prepaid culture is in such contrast to what we're used to in America. I remember the first time I bought something in the Tufts bookstore freshman year and getting no fewer than 15 credit card offers asking me to sign my life away for a low, low introductory interest rate. People wait years - literally, years - to receive any kind of credit card here. Personally, I think they're better off with the prepaid culture than the debt-ridden disaster that is America these days.
- We had a bit of a shindig at the Cecil and Wolmunster Compound on Tuesday night in anticipation of Wednesday's public holiday, National Women's Day. We billed it as a "celebration of women," which, many of you know, I will do at any opportunity. Lots of fun was had by all. Wednesday was a nice day to recover and I read about National Women's Day, which celebrates the march for Women's Rights in Pretoria in 1956 which was a turning point in the struggle for equality in this country. The BBC had pictures with leaders like Winnie Mandela and Graca Machel (Nelson Mandela's former and current wives) in attendance of the ceremony. Holidays like yesterday serve as a reminder of just how far South Africa has come in a very short time, but the ceremony yesterday, which in particular highlighted South Africa's abnormally high rate of domestic violence, also show that women and other oppressed groups under the Apartheid regime still have a lot of work to do in the new South Africa.
Well, that's all for me now. It's time for classes. Ok, well, one class and a movie. And the movie is Twilight Los Angeles with Anna Deavere Smith (The West Wing's Nancy McNally), so I'm actually kind of excited.
Cheers.
- Got up early this morning and went to Cavendish Square over in Claremont, which is the big mall, to go to Cape Union Mart and buy a fleece and jacket for my whitewater rafting trip this weekend. First off, yes, I'm going whitewater rafting this weekend. But you know, I'm pretty outdoorsy, so it should be fun. (Oh wait...not that.) Anyway, so I go and buy a really nice, "Proudly South African" K-Way fleece and slicker. Take it up to the till and the woman behind the desk informs me, "That'll be 1100 bucks." Oh god, what have I done, these jackets must be woven with spun gold or something. Then I remember "bucks" is used interchangably with "rands." Which, I mean, that's still a lot of money, but not enough to buy a used car at least. I'm still getting used to thinking in rands though. I've figured out that when I go to Mr. Noodle for lunch up on campus and get change back from a R20 bill, it's a deal. But if I pay more than R10 for a drink at a bar, I'm getting ripped off. Still, the thought of paying 1100 for anything was still a little, shall we say, off-putting.
- The ride over to the mall was fun too. I took a minibus cab. For the uninitiated, the minibus is truly the white-knuckle, thrill ride of the millenium. The fleet is mostly beaten up late-80s model VW buses retrofitted with literally, as many seats as they can fit inside, a steering wheel (sometimes) and a gear shift. Some models even have doors. Ok, all models have doors, but the driver's assistant, who serves as the conductor on this little journey, collecting money and figuring out the pattern of stops, usually pops the door open as we fly down the Main Road, barking "Cape Town! Cape Town! Cab! Cab!" in an attempt to lure in the next R4 fare. I had a particularly "fun" ride over to the mall this morning because we had a special guest driver: Mario Andretti. At least, he thought he was Mario Andretti, or some terrible NASCAR driver or something. To say this guy was weaving through traffic doesn't do his technique justice. I think at one point he was up on the sidewalk trying to get around a lorry. Needless to say, I, and the other 11 passengers in the half full minibus, were quite pleased when we reached our stop in one piece.
- Ok, new subject. One of the main differences I've found since I've been here is the predominance of prepaid everything. Literally everything. Not just cell phones, I mean we prepay for electricity, and you can buy electric credits at most gas stations. I also prepay for internet, which is why I tend to use it as infrequently as I can. You pay by megabyte downloaded, so if you send me pictures or something, chances are I won't see them until I get back in December - just as an aside. But this kind of prepaid culture is in such contrast to what we're used to in America. I remember the first time I bought something in the Tufts bookstore freshman year and getting no fewer than 15 credit card offers asking me to sign my life away for a low, low introductory interest rate. People wait years - literally, years - to receive any kind of credit card here. Personally, I think they're better off with the prepaid culture than the debt-ridden disaster that is America these days.
- We had a bit of a shindig at the Cecil and Wolmunster Compound on Tuesday night in anticipation of Wednesday's public holiday, National Women's Day. We billed it as a "celebration of women," which, many of you know, I will do at any opportunity. Lots of fun was had by all. Wednesday was a nice day to recover and I read about National Women's Day, which celebrates the march for Women's Rights in Pretoria in 1956 which was a turning point in the struggle for equality in this country. The BBC had pictures with leaders like Winnie Mandela and Graca Machel (Nelson Mandela's former and current wives) in attendance of the ceremony. Holidays like yesterday serve as a reminder of just how far South Africa has come in a very short time, but the ceremony yesterday, which in particular highlighted South Africa's abnormally high rate of domestic violence, also show that women and other oppressed groups under the Apartheid regime still have a lot of work to do in the new South Africa.
Well, that's all for me now. It's time for classes. Ok, well, one class and a movie. And the movie is Twilight Los Angeles with Anna Deavere Smith (The West Wing's Nancy McNally), so I'm actually kind of excited.
Cheers.
06 August 2006
Wine, Wine, Everywhere Wine!
I had the privilege to spend yesterday at the Stellenbosch Wine Festival, South Africa's largest regional wine celebration incorporating more than 100 local vineyards with nearly 500 wines available for taste.
I'll repeat that.
500 wines. And I tasted darn near every last one of them. The festival itself was a delightful experience, with not only wines available for tasting, but also samplings from area food merchants and other products and goodies. It was a fantastic laidback atmosphere, very South African in feel, complete with a dance troupe roving through the main festival hall with African drums in tow.
Stellenbosch town does not disappoint either. A small, Afrikaner college town and capital of the South African wine industry, Stellenbosch blends magnificent mountain views and rolling vineyard hills in a very quaint setting, perfect for an oenophile of any rank. It is very reminiscent of some small Sonoma or Napa Valley wine towns, but it still boasts a distinctly African flair which sets Stellenbosch apart from almost anywhere else in the Wine world. If you're ever in the Western Cape, Stellenbosch is certainly worth a side trip. And, I hear there's a hotel there on a vineyard (Spier Wines) where you can not only stay the night in elegance and luxury, roaming through the vast vineyards of one of the region's top winemakers while sampling local cuisine, but where you can also - and I swear to god this is true - roam in a small nature preserve with cheetahs. Al, our driver - who deserves his own post and will get one soon - told us about Spier on the way into town and many of us began making plans just then to return and play with cheetahs.
Ok, now on to the important stuff, because, as I said, El Vino did flow!
Of the many wines I sampled, I was able to come away with a few favorites. I ended up spending only R400 (about $65 U.S.) on a half case of 6 fine wines. I had three vinters in particular which I list among my favorites, both for the quality of wine and the knowledgable wine stewards who guided us through the process of tasting.
First up is Grangehurst, a small, artisan vinter from the slopes of Helderburg Mountain who has their 2000 vertical on taste. I picked up a bottle of their "Nikela" red blend and it was well worth the R110 I spent for it. The blend of 51% Cabernet Sauvignon, 38% Pinotage and 11% Merlot was aged in 90% French oak for nearly two years before being bottled. As this wine has had time to age in the bottle, the 2000 vintage has shown a very mellow, smooth character that is both round and well-balanced. The small percentage of Merlot acts as a mediator between the smokier Cabernet and the hearty yet fruity Pinotage. With a dark ruby color, the coffee and chocolate flavors of the Cabernet come together with the earthier tones of the Pinotage. It is a wine that has aged well and lost many of the tannic qualities one would find in a younger vintage making the wine less astringent in the mouth with more taste on the finish.
Next up is Mooiplaas Estate Cabernet Sauvignon 2000. Mooiplaas, as my new friend Bobby, a student at the reknowned University of Stellenbosch, told me, means "beautiful farm" in Afrikaans. In fact, most of the Afrikaans or other language names for wineries in South Africa usually translate to some spin on "beautiful farm." Anyway, from the beautiful farm comes a very big wine. The 2000 Cabernet from Mooiplaas has aged very nicely after two years in French oak and a further three years in the bottle and is being released in a big way now. The dark maroon color is met by a very strong, smoky nose and a heavy sensation of cocoa on the palate. The wine finishes very easily and would be a perfect complement to a big family meal.
But the hit of the festival for me was, without a doubt, Stellekaya Vineyards, especially their Cape Cross Blend 2004. Mark from Stellekaya led my fellow Tuftonians Jessie and Sarah and I througha few different blends, daring me to guess the grapes from their newer Hercules blend. (For the record, I picked out Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. I missed the third grape, Sangiovese. But really, who blends Sangiovese in this country? Who, I ask you? Who?! ... Uh, I mean, I'm not bitter...) The Cape Cross Blend was 50% Merlot along with 30% Pinotage and 20% Cabernet Sauvignon and the character of the wine truly came across with very fruit-forward, mellow yet exciting flavors coming through from each of the grapes. An extremely drinkable and approachable wine (which, and I forgot to write this down, but I think it was only about R50 a bottle!), the Cape Cross was the wine of the festival for me both for its versatility and affordability as well as its sublime flavors.
As we finished tasting, some of us sat down in the cricket field behind the Paul Roos Centre and watched the sunset across the mountains which guard Stellenbosch while drinking some of the newfound treasures we had unearthed throughout the day. And so brought a close to a warm winter's day in Stellenbosch, when the wine world had come and shown us all a wonderful time.
P.S. Look for each of these wines in your local wine shops, or find them online:
Grangehurst - www.grangehurst.co.za
Mooiplaas - www.mooiplaas.co.za
Stellekaya - www.stellekaya.co.za
Wine Online SA - www.wine.co.za
I'll repeat that.
500 wines. And I tasted darn near every last one of them. The festival itself was a delightful experience, with not only wines available for tasting, but also samplings from area food merchants and other products and goodies. It was a fantastic laidback atmosphere, very South African in feel, complete with a dance troupe roving through the main festival hall with African drums in tow.
Stellenbosch town does not disappoint either. A small, Afrikaner college town and capital of the South African wine industry, Stellenbosch blends magnificent mountain views and rolling vineyard hills in a very quaint setting, perfect for an oenophile of any rank. It is very reminiscent of some small Sonoma or Napa Valley wine towns, but it still boasts a distinctly African flair which sets Stellenbosch apart from almost anywhere else in the Wine world. If you're ever in the Western Cape, Stellenbosch is certainly worth a side trip. And, I hear there's a hotel there on a vineyard (Spier Wines) where you can not only stay the night in elegance and luxury, roaming through the vast vineyards of one of the region's top winemakers while sampling local cuisine, but where you can also - and I swear to god this is true - roam in a small nature preserve with cheetahs. Al, our driver - who deserves his own post and will get one soon - told us about Spier on the way into town and many of us began making plans just then to return and play with cheetahs.
Ok, now on to the important stuff, because, as I said, El Vino did flow!
Of the many wines I sampled, I was able to come away with a few favorites. I ended up spending only R400 (about $65 U.S.) on a half case of 6 fine wines. I had three vinters in particular which I list among my favorites, both for the quality of wine and the knowledgable wine stewards who guided us through the process of tasting.
First up is Grangehurst, a small, artisan vinter from the slopes of Helderburg Mountain who has their 2000 vertical on taste. I picked up a bottle of their "Nikela" red blend and it was well worth the R110 I spent for it. The blend of 51% Cabernet Sauvignon, 38% Pinotage and 11% Merlot was aged in 90% French oak for nearly two years before being bottled. As this wine has had time to age in the bottle, the 2000 vintage has shown a very mellow, smooth character that is both round and well-balanced. The small percentage of Merlot acts as a mediator between the smokier Cabernet and the hearty yet fruity Pinotage. With a dark ruby color, the coffee and chocolate flavors of the Cabernet come together with the earthier tones of the Pinotage. It is a wine that has aged well and lost many of the tannic qualities one would find in a younger vintage making the wine less astringent in the mouth with more taste on the finish.
Next up is Mooiplaas Estate Cabernet Sauvignon 2000. Mooiplaas, as my new friend Bobby, a student at the reknowned University of Stellenbosch, told me, means "beautiful farm" in Afrikaans. In fact, most of the Afrikaans or other language names for wineries in South Africa usually translate to some spin on "beautiful farm." Anyway, from the beautiful farm comes a very big wine. The 2000 Cabernet from Mooiplaas has aged very nicely after two years in French oak and a further three years in the bottle and is being released in a big way now. The dark maroon color is met by a very strong, smoky nose and a heavy sensation of cocoa on the palate. The wine finishes very easily and would be a perfect complement to a big family meal.
But the hit of the festival for me was, without a doubt, Stellekaya Vineyards, especially their Cape Cross Blend 2004. Mark from Stellekaya led my fellow Tuftonians Jessie and Sarah and I througha few different blends, daring me to guess the grapes from their newer Hercules blend. (For the record, I picked out Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. I missed the third grape, Sangiovese. But really, who blends Sangiovese in this country? Who, I ask you? Who?! ... Uh, I mean, I'm not bitter...) The Cape Cross Blend was 50% Merlot along with 30% Pinotage and 20% Cabernet Sauvignon and the character of the wine truly came across with very fruit-forward, mellow yet exciting flavors coming through from each of the grapes. An extremely drinkable and approachable wine (which, and I forgot to write this down, but I think it was only about R50 a bottle!), the Cape Cross was the wine of the festival for me both for its versatility and affordability as well as its sublime flavors.
As we finished tasting, some of us sat down in the cricket field behind the Paul Roos Centre and watched the sunset across the mountains which guard Stellenbosch while drinking some of the newfound treasures we had unearthed throughout the day. And so brought a close to a warm winter's day in Stellenbosch, when the wine world had come and shown us all a wonderful time.
P.S. Look for each of these wines in your local wine shops, or find them online:
Grangehurst - www.grangehurst.co.za
Mooiplaas - www.mooiplaas.co.za
Stellekaya - www.stellekaya.co.za
Wine Online SA - www.wine.co.za
02 August 2006
Dr. Guy Willoughby: Cult Legend
My Southern Africa history class was convened this morning by Dr. Guy Willoughby, playwright, historian, raconteur, neckerchief afficionado and all-around swell guy. See, at UCT, every class is team-taught, with different lecturers bringing their own depth of knowledge to a particular subject under the auspices of an entire course. In Southern Africa in the 20th Century, Dr. Guy Willoughby (his name must be spoken in full at all times for reasons which are no doubt obvious) will be our guide through the wiles of cultural and political history throughout this turbulent time for the region. I, personally, could not be more excited. Think about a gay Eric Idle, with a sole patch, thinning but well-groomed hair, very proper British South African accent, and a fancy neckerchief and you, dear reader, will have a picture of Dr. Guy Willoughby at his finest.
To say Dr. Guy Willoughby is a force of nature is an understatement. Even this morning, as students sat sleepily on a cold winter's morning, Dr. Guy Willoughby gave a tour de force performance, leading us through the one of the bloodiest battles in the region's past, the Anglo-Boer War of 1899. His enthusaism shined through as he delivered his lecture with stirring passion and grace. His sublime descriptions of characters from the story, like Cecil John Rhodes, the founder of our fair university and Transvaal President Kruger were more theatrical than academic, which makes sense as Dr. Guy Willoughby is one of South Africa's most acclaimed emerging playwrights and actors, having recently completed a theatrical version of recent South African history. At certain points I wondered aloud to Jessie, my classmate here in Cape Town and fellow Tufts student, whether Dr. Guy Willoughby was dipping into the scripts from his own work, as he strutted about the front of Beattie 114 weaving the tale of intrigue and destruction which gripped the region at the turn of the last century.
As class broke for the morning, Dr. Guy Willoughby, adjusted his festive neckerchief, bowed to us, thanked us for listening as some in the class broke into spontaneous applause. It was the performance of a lifetime.
To say Dr. Guy Willoughby is a force of nature is an understatement. Even this morning, as students sat sleepily on a cold winter's morning, Dr. Guy Willoughby gave a tour de force performance, leading us through the one of the bloodiest battles in the region's past, the Anglo-Boer War of 1899. His enthusaism shined through as he delivered his lecture with stirring passion and grace. His sublime descriptions of characters from the story, like Cecil John Rhodes, the founder of our fair university and Transvaal President Kruger were more theatrical than academic, which makes sense as Dr. Guy Willoughby is one of South Africa's most acclaimed emerging playwrights and actors, having recently completed a theatrical version of recent South African history. At certain points I wondered aloud to Jessie, my classmate here in Cape Town and fellow Tufts student, whether Dr. Guy Willoughby was dipping into the scripts from his own work, as he strutted about the front of Beattie 114 weaving the tale of intrigue and destruction which gripped the region at the turn of the last century.
As class broke for the morning, Dr. Guy Willoughby, adjusted his festive neckerchief, bowed to us, thanked us for listening as some in the class broke into spontaneous applause. It was the performance of a lifetime.
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