Having to say goodbye to my host family was not fun this morning, they have been more gracious, generous and hospitable than one can imagine. Fortunately, a few of them have upcoming travels to Cape Town and hopefully we get together and this time I will be able to return to the favor. I'm especially looking forward to when Sam, the oldest child, comes to Cape Town with his schools rugby team for a tournament. Planning on getting pretty rowdy and embarassing the crap out of him. I'm thinking body paint, posters and at least three cheers (any suggestions would be greatly appreciated).
Contrary to popular belief, I have kept myself very busy in Johannesburg and have not spent my days bar hopping with local rugby teams. But instead of boring everyone with the details of everything I have seen and done, I recant with a brief JoBurg highlight reel.
Johannesburg Zoo with Tom
Last Thursday was going to be a down day for me seeing as it was the day after my rugby adventure but I was then awaken by a thunderous commotion from downstairs. Apparently Tom developed a case of sore throat and swollen tonsils overnight and was too sick to make it to school (but unfortunately not too sick to add to my morning head throbbing). After stumbling downstairs, it was soon apparent that Tom's "illness" did not take away from his eight year old energy level or desire to seek attention. I decided, after approval from his mother, that we would take a trip to the zoo and see if that could help his sore throat, or, more importantly, tire him out a little bit.
But as we were about to leave, Tom decided that he needed a more grown up appearance to look at zoo animals. Tom comes running into the kitchen for lunch with a blue magic marker beard all over his face, looking like a cross between Tom Sawyer and William Wallacae. I wasn't sure if Tom regularly donned make-up before public outings so I asked him to explain his new, very blue image. Without missing a beat he replied, "I wanted to have a mustache so I could look like you." Yes, I have been growing a mustache since I left the States but by no means has it grown to a length to be deemed commendable and certainly not enviable. I'm not sure why I decided to grow out my upper lip, I guess I thought having a mustache while traveling abroad and meeting new people would make things more interesting (I know, pretty lame), but if I had known my attempt have negatively influenced an impressionable youth the razor blade would have come out while still in London. I know imitation is supposed to be the best form of flattery but being flattered I was not. More like embarrassed. Below is a picture of their maid Liza attempting to get off Tom's mustache during the ten minute scrub session.
The zoo proved to be quite fun although as soon as I walked through the gates I realized the absurdity of my visit. Gazing and gawking at indigenous African animals held behind their iron cages and bulletproof glass cages seemed odd considering I was actually in Africa and could actually go and see these creatures in their natural habitat. Why travel half way across the globe to see caged African animals when they roam freely a few hundred kilometers drive away? (side note - I am getting sick and tired of adapting to the un-American measurements that the rest of the world apparently uses. I realize I have to adapt sooner or later but converting to centigrade and meters is harder than jerking off a cheetah with a handful of tacks in a phone booth) It didn't help that the lions, rhinos, elephants and cheetahs looked more doped up on sleeping pills than Heath Ledger (too soon, yeah, you're probably right) and rightfully so. I imagine that they were not only depressed, but kicked in the balls pissed off that they were so close to home yet stuck in captivity for the enjoyment of lazy tourists.
Instead of sulking in the realization of my situation, I decided to make sure Tom had the best "sick day" possible. Not a hard task considering his sheer excitement at every animal cage we passed, but I made sure to rent a golf cart, have two rounds of ice cream and ride carnival rides until our stomachs hurt. A great day but I couldn't help wondering how much more fun it would have been had I let Tom display his blue mustache to the public.
Soweto Bicycle Tour
For my last weekend in Johannesburg I reserved myself a spot on a 4-hour bicycle of Soweto. Seeing as I had spent a majority of my time in the city's suburbs with an occasional visit into the city, I felt that I had not experienced the lifestyle that a large minority of South Africans face. Soweto is also so important historically and culturally that missing it would have left a huge void in my trip. Not to say that a four hour tour would qualify me as an expert in what it means to live in a township, but I would at least develop a greater understanding of a culture I had only read about in books.
Immediately upon hitting the turbulent pavement of Soweto, I appreciated being on a bicycle rather than a traditional air conditioned Land Rover tour of the township. I was able to not only receive an informative, personal tour from two life long Sowetans, but being on a bike enabled me to acutely experience township life through all five of my senses without the barricade of an automatic car window. Our tour took as to the traditional highlights of Mandela's and Desmond Tutu's home and the Hector Pieterson Memoria but we also stopped at a local Sowetan burger joint (even though the burger we ate resembled nothing of a quarter pounder with cheese), a shabeen (watering hole) and one of the shopping malls in the area. I did not anticipate the level of development in Soweto and certainly did not expect to see malls complete with banks, fast food joints and Pick n' Pay grocery stores as well as BMW's and Mercedes speeding down the main roads. Yes, an alarmingly high level of poverty of which I had never seen before persists throughout the township, but parts of Soweto have achieved levels of wealth I previously thought unimaginable. Whether or not that misconception can be blamed on my ignorance, I think a large population of people would have shared in my discovery.
The highlight of the trip, which would be hard to pinpoint because there were many memorable moments (beer and pool at The Shack, standing next to where Mandela used to live), had to have been our first stop and my introduction to a traditional breakfast and drink. Oliver and Tobela led me and Mark (the only other tourists, a fifty year old guy from Holland that lived in apartheid SA for five years) to a rusted tin shack in the middle of Sowetan hostel. We were beckoned into the dilapidated structure and told to sit along one of the wooden benches positioned along the walls. When my eyes adjusted to the dark scenery, I notice that Oliver and Tobela were no longer present, replaced instead by a group of elderly men ranging from fifty to seventy (although I wouldn't have been surprised if one or more claimed to be ninety) and a swarming throng of flies. Although awkward at first, soon enough the group of men began asking us questions about where we were from and were more than happy to tell us about their lives and what they were up to. Then the food came.
Oliver comes in with two medium sized plastic buckets full to the brim with some kind of stale white liquid. He then drops to one knee and goes into detail about the porridge and homemade beer we were about to share. The porridge is similar to pap, a popular South Africa dish that to me best resembles a stiff, congealed bowl of grits, except that it has more of an oatmeal consistency as well as acrid taste. I tried my best to take a large gulp but it tasted pretty foul and certainly did not sit in my stomach well. Next up to drink and pass around the circle was a homemade beer which I was greatly in need of to wash down and get rid of the porridge taste festering on my taste buds. Although it wasn't a great beer, it hit the spot and I took two huge gulps before passing it along. I credit my college years of drinking Natty Light to being able to enjoy this brew because thats kind of what it reminded me of except a little thinker. Not a beer pong beer by any means. But regardless of how each drink tasted, the best part was the communal aspect of our drinking and the converstions we shared. Not an experience I ever thought I would have but one I would easily do again.
Below are a few pictures from the trip. Taking pictures while riding a bike is ridiculous hard but I managed to snap a few good ones.
So as not to ramble on too much further, here are a few other pictures and highlights of time in Johannesburg:
Trip to Constitutional Court
South Africa's equivalent to the US Supreme Court, the recently constructed Constitutional Court resides very close to downtown Johannesburg and was built on the same site as the Old Fort turned jail that kept prisoners during apartheid. When I went for my tour I was fortunate enough to not only be in a group all by myself but I had one of the best tour guides I have ever had. Lekota was extremely knowledgeable about the history of the prison that held Mandela and Gandhi and answered all my questions expertly. The Court itself is beautiful, built with some of the same bricks used in the Awaiting Blocks for prisoners of the old jail and decorated with lots of local artwork. Below is a picture of me and Lekota infront of the court where all the judges preside.
Maropeng - Cradle of Humankind
Really cool museum and caves located about an hour outside of Johannesburg. This is where the oldest hominid fossil was ever found and the museum covers this discovery as well as give a good history of the Earth's formation and evolution of life. The caves were a nice respite from the humid temperature of the day even though the tour itself wasn't all that exciting.
I could have written about so many more experiences (like being razzed by a famous South African comedian at his show for being the one American in a crowd of a couple hundred) but I have to end this post sometime. Next up I'll cover my luxury train ride and first weekend in Cape Town.
Cheers
"converting to centigrade and meters is harder than jerking off a cheetah with a handful of tacks in a phone booth"
ReplyDeletereally ben? haha cmon! we all know you're very good at jerking off cheetahs.