The old adage says, "all roads to lead to Rome." Unexpected, mine did too. While there I got to see my dad, go into a locked room in the Vatican, talk to lots of art professors, and have one of the best meals I've had on my trip.
After months of living in dorms I got to stay at a hotel with my dad. There was even a fruit bowl (more like a fruit vat) and I was just a little excited.
The trip was largely uneventful-- which is a good thing for me, a not so good thing for the blog.
Living for a few months in South Africa has given me a unique view of the country that I think I would have missed if I had only been here a short time. It's multicultural, with 11 official languages. It has an incredible wealth gap, which is nowhere more evident than in the schools and the living situations of students. Yet, it is also a young nation, founded within my lifetime. Trying to figure out how to atone for the crimes of the past, while also moving forward, will take time.
Tourists are frequently worried about the crime. Within Cape Town it is evident. I've heard of a few muggings, and have seen multiple car windows smashed. However, even taking this into account, I would highly recommend a visit here.
The other day I saw an USA tourist board advertisement. It wasn't until the end, when they told me they were advertising it that I knew this (not a good sign.) I'll try to do a better job promoting South Africa.
Cape Town has a landscape few cities can match. The ocean with a mountain right next door.
View of Cape Town
The diversity of the culture comes out in unique and beautiful ways.
Carnival
The wildlife is unmatched.
Plus (and I cannot stress this enough) there's wine.
A glass of house wine in a restaurant generally costs about 15 rand or $1.25. The vineyards are close and are simply beautiful.
I have quite a few phobias-- awkward situations, being late, rodents, and height over water.
Traveling alone in foreign countries (being an young American girl just adds to this) has lead me to be in numerous awkward situations. Almost every day. Many are detailed in this blog.
Public transport, and getting lost have made me late once or twice.
I lived in India, so, rodents.
I went off my first, and only diving board at 15 because I had to in gym class. It was only a few feet high and I was petrified.
I also have a weird phobia of high bridges. For some reason my body just panics. I generally have to close my eyes, sing to myself as I go over them. If I'm driving I have to pull over and have someone else drive across. So, naturally, the other day I jumped off a 708 foot bridge-- the tallest bridge you can bungee jump off.
It is illogically high, built between two mountains.
I'm currently taking a little break (you know how hard my day-to-day my life is) and going along the garden route for a few days. Also on the trip are 4 Indians in their mid 30s and a Brazilian couple. I didn't even know bungee was an option until 2 days ago. Until this morning I gave a solid "no thank you." All the guys on the trip were all ready to go (until this morning, that is) while the remaining three of us were a bit more nervous. After being given this tiny harness and a short briefing we started towards the bridge in silence. Safe to say everyone was incredibly nervous. The small gangway that lead us to the middle of the bridge had a mesh netting so I could see straight down. It was my first time voluntarily walking across a bridge, even though I only went halfway. I broke out in a cold sweat. My body naturally gave me a warning, "we're too high, I don't like this and this could kill you." But luckily I didn't fully panic. It wasn't seeing the trees below me that got me. It was looking at the supports for the bridge and realizing how many blocks of concrete there were, all leading down to a small river. A bridge and water-- 2 for 1! Add some rats, make me late, throw in some awkwardness and then we would have really gotten some fun. Once we reached the platform we were told our order (second to last) and given our instructions-- arms out, fall forward and head up.
About this time I started a bit of a nervous dance while smiling. The first guy started to get wrapped up. They velcroed short pads around his ankles and tied a rope around each of his ankles before securing it to the middle. He hopped to the edge with two guys, one on either side. The video monitor showed us his face-- ready for battle. Quite quickly they counted down 3,2,1 and then he jumped. He didn't quite lean forward enough and he clasped his hands so went into a fast nosedive. It felt like he was falling for forever. Panic. The next guy jumped feet first and was snapped down once he reached the end of the line. Panic. The veteran of our group did a beautiful dive. Panic. The first guy returned and looked exhausted, bursting with adrenaline but still a bit nervous. All too quickly it was my turn. The guys working there were great-- efficient, and friendly. The small strap the was tied around my ankles was not so great-- it was about 2 inches thick.
They lead me to the edge while my mind started working, luckily there was no waiting. 3,2,1 and I fell forward. The worst part was the split second my feet left the platform and my body gave me a little warning, "DEATH IS COMING." But, right after I was instantly calm. It's funny what you automatically say without thinking. During my split second fear of death I screamed "oh my god," then, instead of screaming or staying silent I just said, "ohh, this is lovely." It really was. Being weightless truly is a wonderful feeling. Since I was so high up I had plenty of time to take in the view. It wasn't as fast as I thought it would be and I didn't feel as if I was falling. I felt oddly graceful. The snap (which I was worried about) was smooth. It was only once I stopped moving with all my weight firmly on my ankles that I felt uneasy. I stared at those darn supports again. Soon enough a guy who was lowered came down hooked me up and brought me back up. I wished him hello, and asked what I should do. He told me he'd take care of it and as I watched the ascent my euphoria took a little break. Luckily it quickly returned once I was safely on concrete. Funny to think that I then thought of a bridge as safe. The guys unhooking me complimented me on my beautiful fall-- I told then I had had a lot of practice falling leading up to this. The group all came gave me high fives.
I'm not normally one to buy the photos or videos of things I do, but I thought this was worth it.
The last time I saw penguins was in a movie theatre watching "March of the Penguins." About 15 minutes in my grandmother fell asleep on my arm. I spent much of the movie distracted by the lack of blood in my limb. This time was a bit better.
I went with a french guy I met who's working in the arts and culture department for Cape Town. It was honestly the most beautiful train ride I've been on (the train itself not too much.) The tracks are basically on the shore of the ocean.
The penguins live in Boulder Bay in a little town called Simon's Town. I still haven't figured out who Simon was, but his town is adorable. After a nice little lunch complete with South African wine (delicious and cheap) we walked the 2 km. (I've gotten so much better with metrics-- I was recently told, 'good, you're one of those advanced and reformed Americans.')
They were obviously "built" for the ocean. On land they're really awkward.
Afterwards I had ice cream with my feet in the ocean. Great day.
Last weekend I channeled my inner-Elli and climbed a mountain. I’m not quite sure Table Mountain is truly classified as a mountain, but it’s in the name so it counts in my books. Plus, as I learned on the plane coming here-- more people die climbing Table Mountain each year than Everest. Considering the types of people climbing (ie. me) that’s not surprising in the least. I went with Janice, an American currently living in Madagascar who had just climbed up Mt. Kilimanjaro the week before. She was so nice—letting me stop after almost every ladder, boulder climb, ect. Despite everyone’s warnings, we weren’t mugged, for which I am very thankful. I would have been at a distinct disadvantage with a mountainside mugger. Though that would have been a great blog post “Mattie and the Mountainside Mugging” like my version of Nancy Drew.
The trip took us 3.5 hours to get up, 30 minutes to walk around and then a few more hours since the gondola back down lost power.
The climb was like real life shoots and ladders. Shoots being boulders I slipped on while climbing and ladders being, well, ladders.
The view from the back of Table Mountain
The most in shape I will probably ever look
...if only I wasn't wearing that sweater
(Sorry for the bad quality of the pictures, to get them to load to my blog I have to take screenshots!)
When I’m not reading arts textbooks, emailing teachers and
cornering scared high school students at their openings, I’m doing one
“touristy” thing a week. My first week, I went to a place made famous by Nelson
Mandela’s imprisonment there, Robben Island.
V&A Waterfront
The penguins and I had the opposite reaction to the boat ride
over there. While they were jumping and playing I was standing (and kneeling)
watching the waves swell and occasionally go over the side of the boat.
View of Table Mountain from the boat
Once on the island we were herded into a bus and taken to
the various sites. By far the most depressing for me was the limestone mine.
There, political prisoners worked long shifts mining unusable (that just makes it worse) stone by hand.
Stone Quarry
Mandela's Cell
The tour concluded with a walkthrough given by a former
prisoner. Most of the tour guides live on the island, right next to their former
guards who still work there (though now in a different capacity.)
