Lessons learned from 10 months in South Africa

“Now” doesn't mean now. It actually means ‘later’. Your waiter will say “I’ll be with you now” and then walk away. “Now now” means you’ll be waiting even longer.

Greetings are essential. Especially in the Xhosa culture. And not just “Hello,” but “How are you feeling this morning?” A comment about the weather, a question about their family. If you don’t greet properly, you will be called out- “Sisi, why didn’t you say hello to me?”

Directions are more like guidelines. And are often only given with hand gestures. Be prepared to ask a few times. And to be patient.

Africa time is real. And the best part of it is they both know and acknowledge it. The principal will say something like, “The prize giving will begin at 10:30. Oh but you know, it’s Africa time. So maybe at noon”.

When in doubt, add more salt and sugar. The Xhosa people love these little white granules more than any culture I have ever met. The amount of sugar put in a coffee or salt added to a dish shocked me every time!

I wish I could sing. Music is incorporated into just about everything in the Xhosa culture- into prayer, into assemblies, into festivities. They start singing when they are young and it doesn't stop when they get older. They have the most beautiful voices, harmonize so naturally, and aren't shy to sing for you!

America is efficient. Our service is fast and attentive. We know how to produce good food quickly and package it in a to-go container that actually stays intact. We fill out forms online. Companies have websites. The apps on our phones pay our bills, give us directions, and find us the best happy hour specials in a 2 mile radius. While there is a lot to value about a slower lifestyle here, it made me appreciate how well America gets shit done!

Errands take a long time and might be an adventure if you don’t have a car. A year of public taxis (minibuses) as our transport taught me to be patient, taught me that you can fit more people/food/goods into one vehicle than you could imagine, made me appreciate every opportunity to sit in a real car, and reminded me that despite the beautiful flats and chic restaurants lining the beach front, I am still in southern Africa (as my taxi is reversing backwards down a major road to pick up a Mama with a big bag on her head walking down a side street).

I have a weak American stomach. And apparently we don’t have much resistance to the basic “bugs” that people here are used to. I learned how to be sick this year and need to work toughening up a little bit next year...

Be careful if you start doing your running training with Ironmen. Next thing you know, you’re signing up for the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon when you’ve never even run a standard length marathon. And the fact that you did that surprises no one.

Don’t bring chicken fillets to a braai. Bring chicken sosaties (skewers), boerewors (sausages), pork chops, even potatoes… but don’t bring fillets. And if you do, and people are looking around like “who brought the fillets?” just act oblivious. Obviously, it wasn’t you. And make roosterkoeks (braai bread)- the best addition to the non-fillet dinner you’ve prepared.

I look American. Maybe it’s the backpack and 2 stainless steel, Klean Kanteen water bottles I seem to carry everywhere, or the fact that I walk most places, but it seems us Yankees are pretty easy to spot. My water bottle and I became quite a joke with most of my friends here.

Ndingafunda isiXhosa! I can learn Xhosa! An idea that terrified me when I learned at orientation that the province of South Africa I would be moving to spoke the indigenous language full of clicks. But after a year of lessons, I can get by in simple conversations and my clicks aren’t half bad.

Lekker, jol, kiff, keen, fetch, oakes, no man, ja, bru, howzit, bakkie. The never ending list of South African slang/sayings I’ve either adopted or become accustomed to hearing this year.

Rugby is king. And is quite similar to American football- a pleasant surprise.

I’m kind of a freak with food. Living and cooking with Alice who loves food as much as I do while simultaneously being paid enough to buy every luxury herb and cooking oil we desire has allowed us to go a bit crazy in the kitchen and eat like rich 30 year olds. No such thing as a simple meal in this house hold- Pad Thai, homemade white bean burgers, chicken picatta, the list goes on… Going to have to learn to lower my standards a bit next year.

I have met some of the most kind, hospitable people this year. I have been overwhelmed by how welcoming and kind people have been to me this year. People of all ages, races, and cultures. Everyone from the students I worked with at Walmer who tirelessly practiced Xhosa with us and learned to understand our American accents, to my wonderful running club who took me on weekend hikes and races in beautiful parts of the country I’d never seen. To Ouma, the tiny Afrikaans woman in Rustenburg who cooked me eggs and sat and chatted to me over dinner at her guest farm when she realized my only other option was to try and squeeze into a prawn bake with 100 platinum miners… No thanks. To the computer technicians at Matrix Warehouse who were so friendly and helpful to us with any technology problem we had all year. To Andrew, who spent a good majority of this year showing me the ins and outs of this city, driving me all over creation (and then teaching me how to drive), teaching me all the slang I need to know, and introducing me to friends. I have truly been blessed and am excited to be able to continue these friendships next year.

Alice Bator and I may have merged into one. One “lesson” doesn’t do an ounce of justice for this girl. She has been my rock this year. My co-chef, taxi partner, wingman, voice of reason, travel companion, and so much more. We crave the same foods and like the same wine. We get tired at the same time. We crack up about the same strange things that happen here that remind us we are so far from America. We whine about missing the same things from home. We get sick at the same time. We read each other’s minds. And we meet up at the airport in Joburg coming from different cities wearing the exact same outfit. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have been placed with Al and am actually a little scared about what is going to happen to our bodies when we have to finally separate..

I have an unbelievable support system of friends and family at home. Especially in my decision to come back and teach in South Africa next year. It is not easy for me to be this far away from all that I love at home. It is hard for me to be a good friend, sister, and daughter to those I love the most with the time change, limited internet, and distance, but despite all this, I have received nothing but support and encouragement from those stateside in my projects this year and the ones to come. I could not do this without all your love. Thank you for being part of this experience this year and I can’t wait to see you all soon! 

South Africa, you've been good to me. See ya in 2013! 

xx

Better late than never...

Traditional Xhosa Huts

A few weeks ago, Alice and I took one awesome trip up the Wild Coast and I’m terrible to just now be blogging about it. I'll apologize now for the length, but this trip was just too good. Hopefully you find it as amusing as we did! We started the holiday by driving 8 hours from PE up the east coast to our first stop- Port St. Johns (from which we would work our way back down). This part of the country is known as the Old Transkei. During the apartheid era, the Transkei was one of two designated 'homelands' for Xhosa people that at the time was considered its own development separate from South Africa. As a result, the area remains a very rural area of traditional Xhosa people that has been kept rather untouched from much of Western culture. We had heard lots about this part of the country and were especially eager to see it ourselves.

Our first full day in PSJ begins with a trip to a blow hole that sprays just a couple kilometers up the coast from where we were staying. The owner of our lodge gave us some very simple directions- to drive towards Second Beach and follow the gravel road to the blow hole. Easy enough, we figure. There will definitely be signs…15 minutes later, as were driving our little Nissan up a steep, rocky road that was certainly only meant for 4x4s were faced with a fork in the road. We stop and as a local guy walking where we can find the blowhole. He points us in the direction and says his house is that was as well, if we give him a lift he will show us. Why not. So we give this guy a hitch up the road until we reach his hut on the top of the cliff. He points straight ahead and directs us to a small clearing where he says we will find the blow hole. Perfect. We drive the last rocky bit and park at the clearing and look around. A beautiful coastal view, but not very easy to see the bottom from there. And still no signs of a blowhole. As we are searching, we come across another young man and ask for directions. He says he is going to the blowhole as well to collect mussels and that we can follow him, but that we must leave our shoes and be very careful. We begin following him down a small dirt trail towards the water. As we reach the edge of what appears to a straight drop off, he points to a thick cable that has been bolted into the hill that we are supposed to use to get us down some very steep rocks. Next to the cable lay a few memorial plaques of people who have died here. Awesome. But we were nearly there we figured, so we very carefully lowered ourselves down the rock face where we could nearly touch the water.

Our friend catching mussels @the blowhole

But we weren't quite there yet, we look ahead to see a ladder made up of logs tied together that we had to climb back up on the other side. Onward we go. We get to the top of the next hill, and only from there can we see our “guide” in his Kaiser Chiefs jersey, already down at the blow hole, chasing the waves to catch mussels. We walked down about halfway and decided to watch from there. We didn't want to be the next memorial stone of people who got swept into the hole. How we would have found this place without the help of these locals, I’m not quite sure- and we quickly learned that directions in this part of the country were to be taken more as guidelines and to prepare for adventure.

View from the blowhole of Second Beach

After the blow hole, we drove down to Second Beach- the world’s most dangerous beach for its currents and shark attacks. Just last year, a man who had waded into the water only up to his waist was eaten by a shark. We put our toes in to say we touched it, but that’s about as adventurous as we were feeling. We spent the remainder of the day driving around to different beaches, having lunch near the water, enjoying the sun by the river and driving thru town. Now this part of the Eastern Cape is notorious for its terrible roads. Terrible in every sense of the word- no lights, pot holes, dogs, goats, sheep, cows, people in your way- you suddenly very much feel like you are in another less developed African country. This feeling only continued as we went into town to find you could barely drive because of all of the people walking or pushing carts in the streets, the huge funny advertisements on the sides of buildings, the difference in available food (produce in particular) at the shops, etc. Yet amidst all the hustle and bustle and chaos of this small, African town- we felt safer walking and driving around here than we do in PE. There was something reassuring about how tradition and untouched this part of the country was, and we found the people to be very kind (and keen to speak Xhosa with us!)

Most dangerous beach in the world!

PSJ from the Airstrip

Our second day in PSJ, we drove up to a tiny airstrip that is almost never used but known for having a great view to take a few photos before heading out. We drive back down the hill, and stop quickly and the petrol station to fill up on gas before a 2 ½ hour drive to our next stop, Coffee Bay… or so we thought. When we stop at the garage, the attendant tells us that they are out of petrol and have been for a few days time. There had been a huge transport strike in Joburg for the last week and a half, and petrol was not getting delivered to many of these smaller towns. The attendant said our best bet is to drive to Mthatha, about an hour away, and we should be able to find petrol there. We had about a half a tank of gas, but Coffee Bay is known to be even smaller than PSJ, and we didn’t want to risk getting there to empty petrol stations as well. So to Mthatha we go. As we pull into the city (considered the 'capital' of the Transkei and the best place for travelers to fill up on gas and groceries that you can’t find in the smaller villages) we can see cars stopped in traffic all the way up the main road. We stop and go our way into town until we reach our first gas station and try to pull in for gas. The station is absolute madness and cars, trucks, and people are all trying to come in at different angles only to find that they have no gas either. We thought we could at least leave our car for a minute to grab a coke and use the restrooms, but the attendant told us we’d be smarted to keep driving as it was too hectic/dangerous there, so we moved on. 

We pull back on the main road- about 1-2ks long, all uphill, and all stop and go traffic. Alice really mastered her clutch control that afternoon. It was hot as anything, and we didn’t want to use to AC to conserve gas, so we had the windows down, sweating trying to get up this hill. We passed another station, and another, and another. All without petrol. So the madness continued up the hill, with every person in sight trying to find a way to get gas. We were hot, thirsty and irritated with the situation, and realized we needed to do something to turn it around. We had a few CDs in the car that we were already sick of and mostly scratched, but one of the CDs (that Mary Kate brought when she visited) had “Call Me Maybe” (a super pop hit) on Track 3, and it didn’t skip. So put in the CD, turn the stereo up as loud as we can, and just start dancing like crazy. Mind you, the cars are barely moving- we are the only white people in sight, and there are all kinds of people walking thru the roads. So our mission became: get as many people to dance with us as possible. We went absolutely nuts for the next 20 minutes, and finally made our way out of the main road of Mthatha. Our spirits were much higher, but we still had no petrol. As we were exiting the city, we come across a station that has a petrol truck unloading. There were a few cars already in a queue, so we joined them and decided rather safe than sorry. In typical African fashion, the attendants kept yelling “Just 10 more minutes!” for about an hour. We had already been in the car for over 3 hours and were not even halfway to our destination. So what was another detour? We stretched our legs, got cheap soft serve ice cream and cokes, and baked in the sun while we waited for the petrol to start pumping. When it finally started flowing, you can only guess which song we blasted… We got the petrol attendants (who pump your gas) the taxis in line next to us, even some of the people standing at the convenience shop, to dance with us to our new jam. A couple from the Netherlands in front of us found us pretty entertaining, but we figured we’ll never see any of these people again.

We got our fuel and made it to Coffee Bay just in time for dinner. What was supposed to be a 2 ½ hour drive, took the whole day and we were beat. We crashed early and this super hippy, earthy backpackers we ended up at, and figured we’d see what we could of the place the next day.

The killer dog

We had one full day to see as much as we could of Coffee Bay, so it started with an early morning run. It was one of the hillier runs I’ve ever done, but once I got up on the cliffs on the edge of the sea, it was stunning! The contrast between these dramatic cliffs and sea landscapes, with the humble, round, teal Xhosa huts was beautiful. I ran through the villages for an hour or so before heading back to the backpackers to start the day. Highest on our agenda was getting to “Hole in the Wall”- a huge rock formation just off the coast that has a hole in it. We wanted to hike there which we were told would take about 3 hours and required a guide for safety reasons. We told the backpackers we wanted to get an early start so that we could have time to go on a village tour afterwards. So they literally walked out onto the street and found us our guide, a 20 year old Xhosa man, Mikah. Mikah walked us to Hole in the Wall, all the while being followed by a dog known around Coffee Bay (which only has 800 residents) for hunting the sheep and goats. Mind you, this dog was a little terrier dog, but he didn’t seem to know that! Here and there we’d be walking only to see a small herd of sheep or goats charging towards us, being chased by this little dog. We arrived at Hole in the Wall and took our pictures, swam a bit, and had lunch. 

Hole in the Wall

Mikah on our hitch back

The backpackers had told us that because there were only 2 of us hiking that day, they could not fetch us in a shuttle, but Mikah would organize transport back. So it was time to go and we asked Mikah about this transport he was supposed to organize. He said oh yes, it’s no problem, we’ll just walk out to the main road. What they really meant by “organize transport” is you’re going to hitch a ride home. So we begin walking down the big dirt road (the same hilly road I ran on that morning, only closer to Coffee Bay) waiting for some truck to pass by. A few cars passed by that were either too full or turning off the wrong way, so we walked on. Finally Mikah spots a truck he calls “nature” driving towards us. By “Nature” what he really meant was the Eastern Cape Department of Agriculture. When they first passed us, they said they couldn’t give us a lift because they were busy at work. So we walked on while they pulled over to survey the area for illegal fishermen. They must have had a change of heart when they continued on driving and passed us a second time a few kilometers later because they let us jump in the back and said they’d take us as far as they could (which was all the way!) So we bounced in the back the 12ish ks back to Coffee Bay and arrived covered in a nice layer of dust.

"Organizing our transport" (Also the same road I had
my awesome run on!)

Dirty and sunburned as we were, we didn’t have time to waste- so we continued with Mikah on to his village for a village tour. We can use the word “tour” loosely. Basically, we went with Mikah to visit all his family and friends, try traditional beer, and eat food. In each hut, we sat and chat with the various people, almost entirely in Xhosa, and were offered lots of food to eat. Traditionally, the women sit on the right side of the hut and the men on the left, so we were expected to follow that tradition as well. At our first stop, we were given a huge plate of Umqosho- a corn and bean dish that we quite enjoy! The second stop, we were given an even larger plate of a pap (cornmeal) and kale kind of dish that we didn’t care for at all. We ate a few bites and luckily could just explain that we were full from the umqosho. We spent nearly 4 hours in Mikah’s village, Jonga, and we were beat! I think Mikah would have loved us to just move into their village, and he even had our husbands organized for us to do so. Alice was to marry Mikah for a lobola of 2 pigs, 2 goats and 3 tee shirts (a rip off), and I was to marry Mikah’s brother who was “very hard working”. We finally convinced Mikah that it was time to go and we were exhausted, so back home we walked. Alice and I were chatting on the way home about some of the more traditional parts of the culture we noticed. The greetings were very important, and it was important to not only greet them when you arrived, but return to their hut to say goodbye before you departed, even if you had only spoken to them for 5 minutes. The whole process was very time consuming. We also noticed the lack of privacy in the culture. Nobody closed the door of their hut, and people came and went often between huts. The pace of life was very different. Most people grow their own vegetables and spend much of the day cooking their food. Walking between villages or huts is time consuming (and hilly!) It was very neat to get to experience for the afternoon, but would be a huge adjustment to live in a setting like that!

The tavern in Jonga

Traditional beer

Our second huge plate of food

When the day was over, we crashed. A chicken burger, a glass of wine, and bed. The next day we were back in the car (we drove more than we ever had this week) to our last stop, Chintsa. We had one night in the small coastal town of Chintsa in the country’s most famous backpackers. It was a good thing the backpackers was neat, because we had pretty crummy weather which eliminated most beach/outside activities. We went to the bar at the backpackers for a drink before dinner and who walks into the bar, but the Netherlands couple from the gas station in Mthatha…  so much for never seeing these people again. They said it was the most fun they had ever had at a gas station, but they didn’t recognize us without our ‘giraffe hair’ (huge buns on top of our heads)… It was hot that day, okay!

Alice and I both enjoyed cool morning runs in Chintsa before working our way back to PE. It had been a long 4 days of travel with a lot more time in the car than we had anticipated. But was also one of the most beautiful, adventurous holidays we had been on yet! One long blog post, but some of these details were just too good to skim over! Hope you could laugh along with us for a few of them J

The hardest test ever taken

I decided about two months ago that it would be a good idea to get a South African drivers license. This decision was largely based on the fact that I will be living here for at least one more year and that car insurance here is going to be a lot cheaper here than in the states. How hard could it be, I can learn to drive on the other side of the road. I was to quickly learn that getting your driver’s license here isn’t quite the same as getting it in the States…

Allow me to introduce you to the K53. Somebody’s great idea of what ‘safe driving’ looks like. According to this manual (which is what the test is based off of), safe driving means looking anywhere except forward. Mirror, check, check. Break, mirror. Blind spot, turn signal, blind spot, mirror. 360. Check, check, check. Break. Your. Neck.

So apparently the only way to pass this test is to find a driver instructor. Easy enough, I see driving school cars all over PE. I’ll just find one online, take 5 or 10 classes, I’ll be good to go. One afternoon, I do some googling on my phone to find a driving school. I find this great, organized website. Super legit. I call and set up a 10 class package for R100 a class (about $12 a class). Sweet. Meet Belinda, the driving instructor from this upstanding establishment. The first time I met her, she was 15 minutes late for our first lesson, wearing sweats, her car was a bit of a mess, she didn’t have any sort of driving school branding on her car, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. We spent the hour driving around as she rather abruptly barked the K53 commands, “Brake. Mirror. Check. Check. Blind spot. Clutch control. 360. Check”. Head spinning, I paid her for my 10 class package and went back inside. After a bit of scheduling confusion, I met her for my second class at Walmer (where she was very quick to express her sentiments on the “weird language my black students spoke”… Righttt). Second class, check. Later in the week I tried texting her to change the time we had set up. Then calling. Then Whatsapping. Then calling agan. Bye bye Belinda. Bye bye R800. Never heard from her again. My own fault I suppose for paying her upfront.

Anyways, I now have approximately 3 weeks until I take the worlds most intense driving test. I still do not know how to properly complete my parallel parking, alley docking, or 3 point turn (all within their painted boxes). Nor do I have any idea how the “Emergency Stop” works. And I certainly had NO clue what the long inspection check-list entailed that I had to verbalize before I could even get into the car. Insert EC Driving School and my best friend for the next 3 weeks, Niels. A 65 year old, fat, Afrikaans man who is going to make me a professional driver. When I met Niels and told him that my test was scheduled for less than 3 weeks time, he nearly fell out of his seat. When I told him which town I was taking it in, he took me to the biggest hills in PE, made me stop on the side and said “Go.” Luckily, I had gotten a bit of hill practice already, and was ready to wow him with my clutch control/handbrake releasing skills. After passing Niels first test, the ice was broken, and I became the best foreign driving student he’d ever had (the Norwegian lady he was teaching was still driving in the flower beds after 22 lessons). When I would nail my parallel parking he would rejoice in Afrikaans phrases “Baie Goed!” or little gems like “America’s got talent!”

When the big day arrived Niels was at my flat bright and early to get me to my driving test. He prepped me the whole way there and reminded me of the long list of things not to do. We drove around the town and the normal course they take you through once before heading to the waiting room. At 9:00am sharp I am greeted by Buela, the awful lady who administered my learners test (what a name, right?) Buela curtly gave me the “driving test” monologue that she probably gives 6 times a day, and not a word more. If I wasn’t nervous already, I was now… I had 45 minutes with Buela inspecting the car, completing my 3 forms of parking, starting on an incline, and then driving around the town of Uitenhage. She continued to remain entirely silent except to tell me when to turn, to call out my emergency stop (and then to tell me that I really should be stopping with her voice… because it’s so easy to predict when you’re going to talk), and to smirk and tell me I’m driving too slow. She had me pretty nervous by the time we got back to the drivers office and Neils could tell.  I must have looked scared because the first words out of his mouth were, “what did you do??” I told him I had no idea, thought I nailed it, but Buela wasn’t really the easiest to read emotionally. After processing some paperwork, tallying some numbers, whining that she hadn’t eaten anything today (she’s human!!), and taking my fingerprints, she hands me a piece of paper and in the most mundane office voice you can imagine, tells me “You passed.” Woooohooo! Thank you Buela. I went back into the waiting room to relieve Niels of any concern and get my new South African drivers license.

It was one of the funnier, more difficult, and more time consuming side projects I have taken on here, but certainly one to be remembered. Lesson learned- if it can be avoided, get your driver’s license in just about any other country than South Africa! Now off we go folks… 

Buzzing Around

I wanted to give a few quick updates about some of the projects Al and I have been working on lately that are finished. I'll try and do them in bullets and pictures:

Literacy Week:

• We had an awesome week of read-a-thons, essay contests, Drop Everything and Read, a spelling bee, and a 'Friday Flick' to get everyone excited about literacy! 

Heritage Day:  

• An all school activity to celebrate the national holiday 'Heritage Day'. Everyone wears their traditional clothing and performs traditional song and dances. 
• Alice and I even got some face paint as well! 

Health Fair:

• Following Heritage Day activities was the health fair that Alice and I have been busy planning with our Grade 8 learners- was a BUSY Friday. The day included fun fitness activities, health advocacy booths, HIV/AIDS screening, dance classes, a movie showing (Remember the Titans), music, and the selling of the Grade 8 cookbooks! 

Has been a busy, exciting few weeks at Walmer! 

Vic Falls Adventures!

Jolly Boys Backpackers: Livingstone, Zambia.

What an incredible weekend away! Alice and I took a long weekend and Friday morning we were off to Zambia. Victoria Falls is considered one of the 7 natural wonders of the world and is tucked in just between the Zambia and Zimbabwe border. We decided to stay on the Zambia side in a town called Livingstone right near the falls and the Zim border.

We arrived Friday midday and started sorting out what activities we wanted to include in the weekend. The afternoon began by going to the ATM to withdraw ONE MILLION Zambian Kwacha to pay for our food/activities. It was pretty funny to withdraw 1 million of any currency! Friday night we decided to do the Sunset cruise along the river that some other Americans from our backpackers had signed up for. We quickly learned that these other Americans were a good portion of the Peace Corps Zambia kids, so we got chatting to them. It was really fun to have some new Americans to chat to and compare experiences. It was a really nice perspective to speak with them about their life in rural villages and reminded me that we really have very little to complain about in our day to day life here.

Saturday morning we decided to cross over to the Zimbabwe side to see the falls from their border (it’s known for having better views this time of year). It was the first time I had ever walked across a border which was neat! We spent the day walking around the national park taking far too many pictures of waterfalls. At lunch, we noticed the table of women sitting next to us was speaking Xhosa, so we worked up the nerve to greet them in Xhosa and ask where they were from. They were so surprised/entertained by the fact that we were white Americans that could speak any Xhosa, but it was certainly fun to speak with them for a while. We saw them in the airport as well where we continued to practice our skills.

Main Falls

Saturday night was spent at dinner with the Peace Corps group. Sunday morning we were off to what might have been the highlight of the whole trip- Devils Pool. This is a natural pool that sits just at the breaking point of the falls. A small motor boat took us to the island that sits on top of the falls and we walked across the island before arriving at the edge of the falls. The excitement began when we stripped down to our bathing suits and swam across the current (only about 10m from the edge of the falls) to a rock at the edge of the pool. Once we arrived at the rock, we had just a few moments to climb to the top before jumping in! We swam around in this little pool with only a rock ledge between us and the 90+meter drop of the falls. The craziest part was the guides were walking literally on the edge to take photos of us and make sure we were staying in the right area.

You HAVE to click on this one to zoom in.
Spot the people and the pool at the top!

Our turn to swim!

The pool adventure ended with a delicious breakfast on Livingstone Island on the edge of the falls. The rest of Sunday was spent lounging around at the nice hotel that the Devil’s pool trip left from pretending like we were staying there and ordering drinks by their pool. Monday morning was our last day and we wanted to get one last activity in before we left. After wandering around aimlessly for a bit, we ended up back at bridge between the Zam and Zim border- the bridge known for its bungee jumping, gorge swing, and zip line. Well… why not?? I signed up for the gorge swing and Al, the zip line. A swing sounded fun I thought, and a cool way to view the Zambezi River rushing below me. So there I was, getting harnessed up to jump off the bridge. I hadn’t quite realized yet that the free-fall for the Gorge Swing was actually longer than the free fall for the bungee jump- 70meters (or just around 210feet) before the fall turned into a swing!

 I stood with my toes hanging off the bridge until he said jump. It was wild- I had never done a free fall activity like that before, and for the first couple seconds, I realized I was falling long enough to actually think about how uncomfortable it was to have my stomach and heart feel like they were floating above my head! But then the swing caught and I got to swing between the Zim and Zam border over the huge Zambezi River- can’t think of a better way to end the weekend! I was hauled back up, unharnessed and we hustled to grab a cab and head back to the airport.

See if you can spot me!

Overall, it was an incredible weekend entirely worth the “splurge”! It was also interesting to spend time in a different Southern Africa country and compare to South Africa. I knew that South Africa was different to the other Southern African countries, but it wasn’t until I actually left and spent a couple days away that I realized how truly different it was. South Africa certainly experiences challenges of poverty, power struggle, and economic struggle like many other Southern African countries, but it materializes in such a different form here! The disparity between rich and poor here never ceases to shock me, and the way the poor live in South Africa is so different- so much more crowded, dirty, small- to the way the “poor” live in other African countries I’ve been to. It was also incredible how much safer Alice and I felt walking around in Zambia and Zimbabwe than we do here. There were so many people walking around on the roads and the whole atmosphere felt so much more relaxed. Our new Peace Corps friends were telling us about how they hitch rides anywhere they need to go. We were blown away by the idea of hitching- that’s something we would never be able to do here without risking being the latest news headline!

The weekend proved to be a great vacation, a nice perspective and an exciting adventure. If you have the time and the money- go to Victoria Falls!! 

Crusing the Karoo

August is full of travel for Alice and I... good thing, because the weather seems to be pretty terrible in August- the howling PE wind is driving us crazy! Last week we had a long weekend for Women’s Day, so Alice and I decided to take a road trip through the Karoo. The Karoo is a desert/farm area inland of the southwest coast. We knew there wasn’t much to “do” in the Karoo, but we had heard a lot about this area and thought we’d check it out. The Karoo is known for having really extreme weather patterns- freezing in the winter, and terribly hot in the summer. We were prepared to freeze! Fortunately, the weather turned out to be pretty moderate. We started by driving north of PE to a small town called Cradock. We arrived in the evening and spent the night in a cute B&B there. This was our first real experience in a truly Afrikaans area, and the language barrier was bigger than we thought! The Karoo (and most rural, farming areas in the country) speak primarily Afrikaans. Most people in the country can speak some Afrikaans, even if it isn’t their home language, so suddenly English wasn’t such an easy medium of communication.

Our B&B

The next day was spent in Mountain Zebra National Park just outside of Cradock. We didn’t know there was such a thing as a mountain zebra, but we read about the difference between mountain and traditional zebras as we drove through the vast landscape. It was a very different kind of scenery to Londolozi in Kruger where I had been with my family last month, but it was beautiful in a different way. We spent the afternoon with Wildebeasts, Ostriches, Zebras, and Kudus before heading off to Middleburg.

Or at least our plan was to stop in Middleburg… That was until we got there and realized what a sad, deserted town Middleburg was. We had been warned of this at our B&B in Cradock (the owner was laughing at us for making it a stop on our trip), but we figured it couldn’t be that bad. Wrong. It was awful. We stopped to get Cokes and use the restroom and decided that one stop was enough in that town, so we moved on to our next destination, Graaff-Reinet.

Graaff from the Valley of Desolation

Because we skipped Middleburg, we got to spend 3 nights in Graaff which we ended up being especially grateful for! Graaff was a cute little town surrounded on 3 sides by mountains. The streets were peppered with shops and restaurants and full of people walking around. We spent the next 3 days exploring the shops and restaurants, going on morning runs and hiking through the Valley of Desolation. On Saturday, we drove into a nearby artist-colony town called Nieu Bethesda for the afternoon. This town is known for the Owl House, a house that has essentially been transformed into a canvas for artwork by a semi crazy lady in the 20s? Her backyard is full of unique sculptures, many of which include owls. Inside, she because obsessed with colour, and transformed many of her windows and walls into a palate of colours.

The Owl House

A fun little brewery we found in Nieu Bethesda

The beer tap!

After a few great days in Graaff we were back to PE. This was supposed to be an easy, straightforward drive, until we were about 60ks outside of any city and the gas light came on. Oops. Insert panic here. The next 35 minutes were anxiety filled as we tried to figure out if we should be driving slow or fast, checked google maps religiously on our phones as if it would make a gas station magically appear, and texted my boyfriend Andrew where we were in case we ran out of gas and lost cell reception and needed a ride. Magically, we made it the whole 60ks and danced in celebration when we finally saw a gas station in the horizon. Lesson learned, fill up early and often when driving in rural areas. It made for an adventurous morning to say the least.