Day 90: Weirdest Easter Ever.

For the Easter weekend, I made plans to go visit my friend, let’s call her Louise (I’m just gonna keep this anonymous), at her internship site near Johannesburg. Louise interns at an AIDS orphanage/poverty alleviation village in a rural area. I have been wanting to get out of the city and see a little more of the country and volunteering at this place sounded right up my alley.

I’m set to fly out of CT Wednesday evening, but I have a big day ahead of me first. I wake up early and go to Home Affairs for the third time (the charm right?) and FINALLY get my visa application submitted (good thing too, bc my visa runs out after 90 days). I figured out that if you go right when they (usually) open at 7:30, you can get out of there in under an hour, which is a miracle. When picturing home affairs, think of a huge, miserable, African DMV. Horrific. I somehow do it just right this morning and the only hiccup is waiting for the cashier who showed up an hour late for work to take my payment. All well and good though; I get that checked off the list and I’m out of there in time to be punctual for SPA DAY.

Southern Hemisphere has designated today company retreat! And we all meet up at the oh-so-fabulous One & Only hotel at the Waterfront for a morning of pampering. After my full-body massage, I lounge in the whirlpool, go for a steam, go for a sauna, and punctuate all my heat fun with a splash in the ice crusher fountain. Its supposed to be good for circulation. I just like getting crushed ice thrown on me after nearly melting in the sauna and steam room. Heaven! Afterward, we all go to the hotel’s restaurant and have excellent meals that are as pretty as they are tasty. I have a sumptuous pepper crusted tuna steak and vino. I am convinced that I am the luckiest social work intern in the history of social work interns. Spa day and nice lunch on the company tab? Yes sir.

We float on out of the hotel sometime in the midafternoon and I run a few errands before taking the MyCiti Bus to the airport. When going to the airport and not lugging a million pounds of luggage, I highly recommend the MyCiti Bus. Only R 50! Everything goes smoothly and I catch my flight. I am very pleased with my day thus far! This has got to be a good sign right?

Soon I’m in Joburg, or somewhere on the outskirts of it at the “other” airport, Lansaria, waiting for my ride to come get me. I panic a little bit when I learn Louise and Dolores were unable to come with the driver, but its ok. I contact him and he says he’s on his way… but there’s bad traffic. At 10:00 at night? Um ok. I sit in the small waiting area and eat some nasty potato chips, like cheesy bbq flavor, I got out of vending machine. Time goes by and it looks like the airport is shutting down, where the heck is this guy? Finally, around midnight, he shows up with his buddies. We’re off in his car that may fall apart at any moment blasting really ridiculous hip-hop. He refuses my offer of some chips. It’s a long, dark car ride. We drop his friend off in some township and then go stop at a petrol station so he can go chat up the cashier. I’m REALLY losing my patience. I munch on a nasty chip and sulk. Finally mr. chauffer is back and gets me to where I’m going. My back is bothering me and I’m very ready for bed. I am greeted by Louise and Dolores, and much to my delight, TWO KITTENS! Yay! One of them, named Puppy (yes, a kitten named Puppy) sleeps with me in the front room. I love Puppy!

The next day, I am afforded the luxury of sleeping in until Louise and Dolores get home from litter duty. That is what they spend most of their time doing while I’m there, organizing kids to pick up litter around the village and orphanage two times a day. Very exciting stuff. Louise shows me around after. I’m happy to meet all of the precious and very sweet children. She tells me some of their stories which are heartbreaking. AIDS is rampant here and its destruction is everywhere. Many of the kids themselves are HIV positive, contracting the virus from their mothers or rape. Its great that this place is here to take them in, care for them, and give them a good education at the school they built. It was started by a white family who traded in a nice life to come do this difficult work under difficult circumstances.

I’m having fun, but by the end of the day, my back feels terrible. I think I’ve thrown it out. Judging by the way I can’t move anymore, I have definitely thrown it out. Ugh why!? So there is a lot of bed rest in my future. I can’t let the whole trip be a bust though, so I sneak in some (painful, laborious) ventures out of bed. The next day, for example, we all accompany the kids to the cemetery that is a decent walk away. I find this to be a very fitting activity for Good Friday. As I watch children tend to their parents’ and family members’ graves. This makes the AIDS crisis very real to me.  I pray that they will know the meaning of Jesus’ death and subsequent resurrection – that we can have hope even in the face of death. I throw a stone in the wishing pile and wish good things for these sweet kids. Then I lumber back to my bed to rest my back. That afternoon Louise takes the third kitten in our house, Louie, to the vet. Louie was taken away from his mom too early by some genius and then it ended up in the guesthouse. Louise looooves taking care of it, while I find the thing to be quite awful. It meows constantly and staggers around like a drunk when it walks. It can’t poop and is useless. We try giving it a laxative, and then a kitty-enema (don’t ask) when that didn’t work. It still won’t poo and its belly looks like its going to burst. Louise takes it to the vet to try and get its bowls fixed while I lay in bed all afternoon and only slightly less useless.

Saturday is more of the same – litter duty and such. I asked why they have to pick up litter everyday, twice a day and why not two times a week or something. To that, I was told it gets very dirty, very fast here and I wouldn’t want to see it if litter wasn’t done everyday twice a day. I then queried why they don’t teach people to throw stuff into litter bins or something then. That idea was quickly dismissed… okay.

My one venture out of the guesthouse is today is to the deck where all the kids are making Easter chocolates. They melt down big bars and reform them into smaller ones for the egg hunt that will be taking place on Monday so the chocolate goes further. I can’t stick around long and go back to my sad room. At least I have puppy.

Then its Sunday!! EASTER SUNDAY! I love Easter! Very important holiday to me. Little did I know before I came here though, that the people who run this place are actually Buddhist so they do not care about Easter. Except for the hunting eggs part, which doesn’t happen until Easter Monday. I find this to be a very strange twist to my Easter trip. I also find it strange that they don’t really do weekends here, so the girls are off in the morning again on trash duty. However, something goes wrong on the way to organizing the clean up crew. Ahh how to I even go into this next bit…

Louise asks D what has been up lately, as Dolores has been acting a little weird, standoffish. This prompts Dolores to burst into tears and say that Louise and I have been so terribly mean to her. And apparently she has been going around telling the people that run the place that we are mean and horrible to her. Next thing I know, a little girl comes up to me in bed and says, “The leader would like to see you.” Ok, she didn’t really say “the leader” but I’m trying to keep a little anonymity here, and she may as well have said that. Great. This is bound to be splendid. I have no idea what’s going on, I’m just here for the weekend to learn and try to be helpful. And to celebrate Easter for Christ’s sake! (get it?) At this point, I’m bent over like Quasimodo when I walk. I suspect I’m scaring all the dogs and small children as I walk up to the powwow circle that has formed on the lawn consisting of Louise, Dolores, The Leader, and her two daughters… as well as an assortment of annoying dogs. We finally get the dogs cleared out and council begins.

A brief attempts at explaining the situation from either side are made and then shut down by the leader. I swear to you, I am not making this up, instead of listening to what the two sides have to say, she looks at me and says, “We can’t go any further until I know her pen code.” One of her daughters magically produces a pad and paper and asks me what my birthday is. “August 22nd,” I say, and when I figure this is going to be some kind of astrology game, I add, “I’m a Leo! Or actually I guess I’m on the cusp or something.” They shut me up quickly, this is NOT astrology, this is my pin code! They do some sort of math and produce my pin code to the leader who has an AHA moment. I am the one to blame for all the trouble that has been caused because my personality type is that of a defiant hunter! Or I think it was a dominate hunter, but it may as well be defiant, or devastating or something. She then precedes to explain my personality to everyone: I am a very organized control freak who must have everything go my way. I will be tortured everyday of my life by this. I have a very acute bullshit meter, which also tortures me. I am very judgmental – I scan the room when I walk in and size everyone up. I completely lack compassion because I am always too busy to notice anyone’s feelings. Oh and I am snobbish. I think I’m better than everyone else.

I wish I was making up the fact that this person who I have met once for five seconds to ask if I could use her toilet was saying all of this to a group of people who also, for the most part, don’t know me… and I am SITTING RIGHT THERE.

So basically, she explains, my devastating hunter personality just waltzed on in and “crushed” Dolores’ sensitive “passive gatherer” personality. I thought I was better than her and decided I didn’t want to be her friend. The lady then tells Dolores and I, “Forget it, you two will never be friends!” But I thought we were up until this point?? I’m feeling a bit hurt at this point, and a bit flustered. Even though she’s giving me crap about not talking, I think better of saying anything, such as, “Welp, my amazing bullshit meter is OFF THE CHARTS right now.” I know whatever I say will be used against me in some way to paint me as ignorant, in denial, or the perfect (evil) defiant hunter. It will all be over soon, right?

Right enough. After I am made responsible for everyone’s problems, the leader feels bad about my back and gives me a cranial back massage. I am the most confused person ever. Part of me even admires her for being such an effective manipulator with her straight-shooting and all that. And she is great at straightening out my back and kind to give me anti-inflammatories. After that, I spend the rest of the afternoon processing what happened with Louise and my dear diary after Louise goes to be with Dolores in her hideout. Woof, what a circus.

When Louise comes back in the evening, we put on long Easter skirts and go out to a nice spot in a field to have an Easter service. Louise is also a Christian and we are determined to celebrate Easter – the best day ever! We sing Christ the Lord is Risen Today (one of my favorite hymns ever, missed singing it with my mom in church), read the Easter story in Matthew (which has some interesting little added details compared to Luke), and pray. We pray a lot. We pray for all the kids, and the family, and the people Louise lives with, and for ourselves to be gentler, more loving people. Some of the kids come to join us and we hold them and pray over them, for their healing and for bright futures. It may be the weirdest Easter ever, but we found great joy in our little service in the field. And badly needed strength. He is risen!

The next day, I’m all set to leave in the late morning and take with me all the interesting things I’ve learned here. I get one more massage from the leader and then my ride shows up. But before Louise and I get in, another little girl messenger comes up to me and tells me one of the daughters would like to see me. Alright. So I go to her house for her to inform me that I owe her R 800 to pay for petrol to and from Johannesburg. I feel the blood run all funny in my body. That is $100. That is more money than I have in my bank account currently. That is definitely WAY more than the price of the petrol used to transport me back and forth. I ask if maybe R 400 would be a more appropriate price, seeing as 800 is more than I paid for my PLANE ticket to fly over here. She sneers at me and says, “The price of petrol has gone up.” I’m shaking I’m so mad. She’s ripping me off! Bear in mind the transport that brought me here 2 hours late in the middle of the night after dropping his friends off and chillin at the gas station for awhile. I’m overpaying for THAT!? I lose it. I give her all the money I have left, which isn’t even half. I have to borrow money from Louise to pay for it and then pull the rest out of my savings account to pay the driver and have enough cash to eat on the way home. Maybe it would’ve been okay if this cost was made known to me as I was budgeting for the trip and trying to determine whether or not it was financially feasible for me to go on it. Oh and then the driver tells Louise she can’t come to the bus station with me because he has to go to another town afterward to play soccer.

I get in the car alone. I leave confused, angry, and humiliated. I think to myself that it must be pretty bad karma to rip people off like that…

Anyway, I finally make it to the very scary and busy bus terminal where I am abandoned by mr. chauffer in nasty Joburg. Seriously, the city looks like it was built to be awesome in the 70s, but people just stopped building then. Everything is dated and looks like it’ll fall down any day now. When I finally get on my bus though, much to my surprise, it is the NICEST bus I have ever seen. It’s a double decker sleepliner and all the comfy seats recline really far back. I actually enjoyed the 18 hour bus ride quite a good deal. Lots of time to read my book, snooze, and let my back heal.

Despite the intense drama and oddity of my Easter weekend, it was not a total bust. I really enjoyed spending time with Louise and I feel like this bonded us quite a bit. We’re trying to get a trip planned for her to come back to Cape Town before I leave. Speaking of Cape Town, when that bus rolled back into the mother city this morning, I nearly died I was so happy. I really missed Cape Town. I was even thrilled to go into work! I love it here and I’m so thankful to live here.

Day 76: The Cleverest Thing

This week has been madness. I had a pretty full out meltdown yesterday under the pressure of being behind at work, my school work (!!!!IO@U#OU*)@#&@), messing up my visa, trying to plan my final safari, being single, etc. etc. Coming home from a hectic workday to do school work is the WORST. I don't wish it upon anybody. But its ok, God is gracious. Tomorrow is a public holiday: Human Rights Day. I will be celebrating by doing LOTS of schoolwork. Anyway, I get to sleep late tomorrow before I get up and do that so I went out tonight.

I don't think I've ever home from the bars and blogged, but this story warrants it.
I'm out with friends in Observatory tonight. I go up to the bar to get a drink and strategically place myself in between a couple of attractive fellows. The guy on my left starts talking to me and a minute later the guy on my right interrupts him to say something to me. I like his watch so I decide to talk to him. Turns out he bought it at Target when he visited the states once. My watch is from Target TOO! He says he wants to play a game. I think that could be weird but say ok if he'll explain to me what this game is. The game is that he will ask me five questions. If I get them wrong, then he'll buy me a drink and if I get any of them right, I buy him a shot. I say sure, that sounds fair enough to me. The question game dialogue goes like this:

Him: What city are we in?
Me: Joburg.
Him: Ha, everyone says Joburg. Ok. What's your name?
Me: Meredith.
Him: That was creative.... Ok... um, what month is it?
Me: October
Him. Ha wrong again... (hesitates, scratches head and all that)... Wait, what question are we on??
Me: Three!

And that right there folks is the RIGHT answer. I lose. I feel so incredibly tricked that I buy the guy a shot with the last money I have in my wallet. Too clever, right?! You can try that at home.

Day 74: Yolo Weekend

(Title subtext: Sorry, I HAD to name it that.)

Whew, sorry for the blog hiatus. I haven’t felt much like writing because of the sorry state of my love life; didn’t want to get all crazy on the internet. A few cool things have gone down since I last wrote – went to (and loved) my first cricket match, saw an amazing concert in Kirstenbosch gardens, another 3-day training at the Waterfront complete with ample tea & scone breaks. This weekend was especially excellent: the other student from UT’ s social work program who is in South Africa and her friend came to visit me from her placement near Joburg. They’re working at an AIDS orphanage/village that is very rural and reminds me completely of Haiti when she talks about it. So when they arrive on Wednesday night, I make it my mission to roll out the red carpet and welcome her back to civilization in style. Yay Cape Town!

I send the two of them, Christy and Daphne (from the Netherlands) on fun adventures to the beach while I’m working (late) on Friday. I am pooped when I get home from work, but obviously ready to party, and have hatched what I believe to be a most excellent plan. The girls don’t have very many fancytime clothes with them since they live in the bush and all, so I enjoy going through my closet trying to dress them in all my favorite clothes. Alison comes over, we get ready, everybodys lookin’ hot, have some drinks, and then get a cab to a sushi restaurant in Camps Bay. After sushi time we walk down the street to Café Caprice, which is supposed to be quite the hot spot. The weather is kinda bad tonight, so I just assume that is why Café Caprice is surprisingly dull. There is some barefoot dude and his pink haired friend stomping around on the dance floor to house music and old dudes checking us out. After one drink, Alison and I make the executive decision to take this party to Club 31. Yeaaa, my weekends are starting to make a pattern. We wrangle a cab and head downtown.

31 starts off great as I’m at the bar for the first time, going to pay for our drinks when the bar tender stops me and says someone has already paid for them. YES! I look around, and don’t see any particularly obvious person who bought these. Even better! I think maybe it’s the guy to my left, so I make small talk with him before bopping off to the dance floor. We have a particular spot on the dance floor next to the windows close to the DJ booth. While dancing, I keep looking up at the DJ booth thinking he looks kinda lonely up there. I also think about how I would really like to request “Single Ladies.” I don’t do anything about these thoughts for awhile until something possesses me and I find myself up in the booth jammin’ with DJ whoever this is. Next thing I know, he bends down and my eyes fall upon his private DJ mini-fridge liquor stash. And then he starts pouring tequila for us. 31 is being extra kind to me tonight. When I finally leave the DJ booth, for SOME reason, I pull one of my cards out of my purse and leave it up on the counter for him. HI! Here’s my work number! Call me maybe??

My head finally hits the pillow around 4:30, and then, I swear my alarm instantly goes off and its 10:30. Time to go to Robben Island! I bought tickets for Justine, Christy, Daphne and I earlier in the week to go on the 1:00 tour. We plan to walk down to the Waterfront to catch the boat. I get us up at 10:30 just to make sure I’ve built in a large cushion of time. Good thing too because I’m having struggles getting ready. Christy and I agree a bloody mary would be very appropriate and helpful right now. But I realize there’s no way we’re going to have time to stop and sit in a bar, even if we found one that was open (this ain’t nola).  So I do the next best thing. On the way out I stop by the liquor store next to my apartment to look for some stupid pre-mixed cocktail in a can or glass or whatever. Unfortunately, the best thing I can find is an energy drink pre-mixed with a lil bit of vodka. I guess I could use some caffeine so that will do. I sip it as we walk through a rally a bunch of religious people are having right as they’re taking an oath to not lust after any woman but their wife. Very ambitious there.

Next stop is Food Lovers market for pizza and stuff.  (Except Justine doesn’t buy anything because she brought a super vegan salad extraordinaire from home.) Then I realize we need to pick up the pace a bit to make it to the boat on time. So everyone is hustling and sweating to make it down the to the Waterfront when I remember we should’ve just taken a minibus taxi for R 5 a piece. Everyone hates me for remembering when I do since its too late, but oh well, we’re getting our exercise. We make it and run through the Waterfront past the lego man and a seal I think is dead into the security line. When we go through the metal detector, the man stops Justine and asks her if she has a fork in her bag. Well yes, what else is she going to eat her super vegan salad extraordinaire with, sir? He confiscates it. I throw a fit because we only have THREE forks left in the apt now and that’s as many people live there! I ask if I may retrieve it when I am back from the tour, he says sure. This placates me enough to get on the boat. I reward myself for making it this far on a few hours sleep and an (alcoholic) energy by eating that slice of pizza from food lovers. Then I try not to get sea sick as this ferry goes 100 miles an hour over rough seas. The struggle continues.

Once on Robben Island we drive around to points of interest while a tour guide with a very mechanical voice and heavy accent tells us interesting things. At the one place we get off the bus Justine buys chocolate and cookies and feeds it to me the rest of the tour. I love her.  We also take pictures at this beautiful Table Mountain vantage point. Up until this point, Christy has been calling it Table Top and Lion’s Knob. Haha! Hey fun fact, did you know Robben Island also used to be a leper colony? Anyway, next we tour the actual prison. They take us to Nelson Mandela’s cell and our guide, an ex-political prisoner himself, tells us the story of how a guy snuck the copy of Long Walk to Freedom off the island hiding each page behind photos in a photo album. I feel all emotional. So much history here, its really an amazing place. The tour could use work though, you don’t get to linger at all or see half of what’s there. They could really pack in a lot more or at least give you a few minutes to explore and read the plaques. Oh, and they should really fix that toilet completely flooding the women’s restroom.

We are all seriously struggling by the time we get back to the boat. The other girls fall asleep on the short ride back while I try to stare at the horizon and not feel sea sick. When we get back to the dock, I march back into the security people and ask for the fork back. The guy takes me to a filing cabinet and opens it. Inside there are two forks and a regular ol’ dining knife. What exciting contraband. He picks up a fork and hands it to me. It is not my fork. He puts it back and then gives me the correct fork so I can be on my way, thank you very much. We finally make it home afterwards and crash.

I set my alarm for an hour later because Cape Town’s Carnival is tonight at 7. I have no idea why a city would have carnival during the middle of Lent, but I love a parade, so fine. When my alarm goes off, I don’t want to move and lie there thinking about how crazy it would be to get up and keep going. But you only live once (YOLO) and when friends are in town, you have to yolo hard. So I rally the troops and we head down to Greenpoint. But of course we stop at the amazing Indian Food Bazaar for ample, cheap, delicious fuel. I have really discovered my love for Indian food here. I get wise this time and put us in a minibus taxi to Greenpoint after dinner. It costs us R 7 a piece though and I realize once we get going that we easily could’ve walked and a cab this short of a distance for less than R 21. Ha, well you live and learn I guess.

Carnival is interesting, but short. Well actually I think we just missed a lot of it because we were late. But yea, it is very short compared to Mardi Gras. Also, you cannot drink on the street. I wonder why you would even have a parade. We find a “public bar” that’s in some tents on the side of the road. This suits us just fine and is next to the stage so we hang out and watch music all night. We take pictures of the floats and with people in their neat costumes; it’s a great night.

The next morning, Christy and I wake up and go to church. We then go to ShopRite to pay for a plane ticket I bought spur of the moment to visit her and Daphne at the age orphanage over Easter weekend!! (YOLO!) I’m very excited to leave the city and have some time in the 3^rd world. But we spend the rest of the day very much in the 1^st world. After lunch, we go for tea in the Company’s Gardens behind parliament. I HIGHLY recommend it. I had a “pancake” and ice cream that changed my life. We also watched some people feed pigeons out of their hands. I totally judge these people – pigeons are so filthy, I just know these people are going to get a disease. Ew, I hate pigeons. Fastforward twenty minutes or so and there I am with those people. I let a pigeon land on my arm. This freaks me out very much. Who am I?

That evening we climb Lion’s Head/Knob. People are paragliding off the mountain and whispy little clouds are rushing over the mountain. Well, by the time we make it to the top, the thin clouds have thickened up very much, so we’re just walking around in the cloud. I feel bad that for Christy’s one shot up Lion’s she only got to see the inside of a cloud. Bummer. Its ok though, I think she enjoyed the journey very much anyway. Its all about the journey man (ha).

Today, Monday, it was back to work for me while the girls went shark cage diving. And now I know why I don’t have weekends like this anymore now that I’m out of college. Despite going to bed at 10 last night, I could NOT wake up this morning. I was in a monitoring and evaluation planning workshop at an NGO this morning and was struggling SO hard to keep my eyes open. One of the guys made fun of me in the kitchen later when I went to put extra scoops in my instant coffee. Not even that helped. I think it was because I woke up in the middle of a weird kinda sad dream. You know how groggy you feel when you wake up in the middle of a dream, especially one about your pathetic love life.

I’m starting to totally panic about how much time I have left here. It is NOT enough. Work is hectic (but I LOVE it), I have too much schoolwork to do (I do NOT love it), I need to plan my grand finale safari, I need to get a stinkin visa so I don’t accidently become an illegal alien. I get Thursday off for Human Rights Day. I plan to celebrate by locking myself in my apartment and doing schoolwork ALL DAY LONG. What a sad ending to a fun blog right? Its ok, if I get it all done I get to graduate, yay! Have a great week J

Day 60: I Jump Off A Train.

Today was one of those days that is so ridiculous that the only redemptive quality is the fact that it will make a good story. Here is the good story: It starts Sunday night. I’m prepping for a Why Poverty screening we’re doing at the University of the Western Cape the next day. It looks like out of all the shady public transport options, the train will be my best option. For some reason I’m most comfortable on the trains even though everyone is terrified of them – they feel more predictable than mini buses and I’ve never ridden a Golden Arrow bus, and so I find them scary. Train it is. I look up the timetables and see that to get to the venue and meet the facilitators by 10:15 (screening to start at 11), I need to catch the train leaving from platform 18 at 9:20. It will drop me off at the Unibell station which is right at UWC. Easy enough.

So the next morning, I meet the other intern, Tiffany (who I recruited to come with me at the last minute) and we walk to the train station. When we get there, we find out the timetable totally lied and there is no train going to Unibell station at 9:20 from platform 18, but there is one leaving at 9:40 from platform 19. Ok cool. I ask Tiffany if she’d like to go bum around and get a coffee or something since we have about 30 minutes to kill. She says nah, let’s just go sit on the train so we don’t miss it. We walk over to platform 19 as the train is coming in. I look up at the board and it says the train will leave at 9:40 and something about a train not being in service. Whatever, the 9:40 train is running so that’s fine. We go inside and sit down in an empty car.

A few minutes go buy and I hear a noise, not a whistle, but still tone that suggests a train is leaving. The doors shut and we are leaving the station on this completely empty train. Something is not right. It is NOT 9:40. Wait, what was that about a train not in service?!? I stick my head out the window to look back up at the board. Just then I lock eyes with a guy standing on the platform and he yells something at me. I’m not sure what, but something about “You’re not supposed to be on that train!” or “That trains not in service!” Something that gave me all the confirmation I needed to start panicking – WE ARE ON A TRAIN THAT IS NOT IN SERVICE!! We start running up and down the aisle, thinking maybe we can get to the front of the train… no of course not. Tiffany is pacing around swearing while I’m pushing this button next to the doors that says “emergency.” Maybe there’s like a switchboard at the front that lights up when someone pushes the emergency button so the driver will stop? Or maybe the train will just stop, right??” No, of course not. I don’t want to say it, but I tell Tiffany our only option, “We have to jump off this train.” There is no way to tell anyone who can stop this train that we’re on it. We have NO idea where the train yard is and it could be past Khaylitsha for all we know! We have to jump off this train. She agrees.

We wait for a moment. The train slows and comes to a stop so someone can throw a switch and it can change tracks. Now is our change. Luckily, I figure out the emergency button next to the doors is to make them open while the train is in motion. So I hold down the emergency button and pry the doors open while Tiffany jumps out. The doors are pushing back on me and I can’t keep them open while I jump out with both my workbag and my computer bag. I yell at Tiffany and she holds them open while I scramble out with all my crap. Half of me is totally freaking out while the other half of me is laughing at the fact that I just jumped out of a train. And now we need to figure out where the heck we are… So we start walking.

Today is the hottest day its been since I’ve been in Cape Town; no doubt the hottest day of the year. Great day to go for a walk down the train tracks. It is the weirdest sight – white girl in a red dress toting her work bags down the train tracks in who knows where. We’re kinda just stuck in a see of train tracks since we’re still close to Cape Town station; there are probably 7 on each side of us with a fence down the middle that we’re walking next too. I continue to cycle between laughter and panic. Then we see a welcome sight ahead, the lady who throws the switch for the trains to change tracks is standing up ahead. She sees us and motions us over. I’m very happy to see another human here! One that can probably tell us where we are! Instead she yells at us and tells us that we should NEVER do that ever again! She says we should have stayed on until we got to the train yard. And I’m like, “Yea, but we have no idea where that is!” She points up a short ways and over to the right. Oh, it’s right there. Haha, look at that. We ask her where the next station is and if we can catch the train we’re meant to be on there. She says yes and tells us a train number that doesn’t mean anything to us, and we keep walking. After walking for ten minutes or so, I’m starting to panic because I don’t see this darn train station! But then a sidewalk appears, in the middle of the train track ocean, and a person walks out onto it. That looks promising. So we keep following this sidewalk. We pass two RR worker ladies sitting in the shade of a train. They let us go by them for awhile before yelling down at us, “Hey, where are you going?” We tell them we’re walking to the next station. They wave us back to them and point to a gate we missed. Oh, glad they were there to help out.

After we walk through this gate, which I think separates the train yard from the active tracks, we make it to this incredibly random train station that is just sitting in the middle of the train track ocean like an island. Its called something like Yackensplatt. I wonder how people even get there or why they would ever come to Yackensplatt. The closest roads are busy highways pretty far in either direction away from us, but there are these big raised pedestrian bridges to get to the island of Yackensplatt. We ask the first guy we see here if he could tell us which platform our train will come to. He points to the one across from where we are now. So we walk up the stairs and over to the other side. I’m not fully convinced, so I have Tiffany go ask some train security guard person who confirms that we’re at the right platform. I’m feeling ok now. The train we were meant to be on should be coming through here in 10 minutes or so. The thing is, it doesn’t. Several trains pass, some heading out, some heading into Cape Town, but none passing our platform. I start to panic again. I call the office and tell them what’s going on so I can get the screening facilitator’s cell phone number. I can’t believe this is happening and we’re going to be late if we get there at all! I then go march up to the weirdo floating ticket counter on the pedestrian bridge to triple check that we’re at the right platform and to figure out when the heck a train to Unibell is coming. I get my answer – we were on the wrong platform the whole time and the next train is coming in about 45 minutes at 10:58. Wahhhhhh! (I realize later in the day that Tiff was asking people how to get to Bellville instead of Unibell.)

I do get some good news though – the screening has been pushed back to noon. So we won’t be late after all. But now we just have to wait it out on the sketchy island of Yackensplatt where I am keenly aware of my color, the loud color of my dress, the bags I am carrying, and people’s weird reaction to me being there. I packed some apples in my bag and I quickly stress eat one. At last, right around 10:58, the train that will take us to Unibell comes. We can’t run up to the front fast enough, so we can’t sit in first class (which is highly advisable) so I spend my first train ride in Metro regular. Whatever, its not so bad. Then we choochoo on through the poverty of the townships. It sounds like people are popping their gum when they talk because the most prevalent native language here, Xhosa, uses a lot of tongue clicks. I love it. I watch the signs at each rail station like a hawk and have my phone out with the GPS on so I know where the heck we are. Finally we pull up to Unibell station! Huzzah!! We run out of the train, and I find myself in a field; a very weird open field with a university in the middle of it. I keep thinking to myself, “Where the heck are we?” We made it though - both alive AND on time. We find the School of Government and set up everything for the screening. When the catering comes in, I immediately scarf to finger sandwiches.

The screening goes well. Good group, nice discussion, air conditioning. Then its time to go. The facilitators look at me and say, “You’re not going back on the train are you? Just go out front and take a taxi home instead.” I reply that we’d rather just stick with the train because we bought return trip tickets. They tell me stories about their friends getting mugged when it isn’t peak hours though and finally deter me enough to just go catch a stinkin’ mini bus taxi. We walk to the front of campus, where there is actually civilization, and get into a taxi. They don’t go until they’re full, so we sit there in the hot car until 40 people or whatever are crammed in. Then, for some reason unknown to me, everybody gets out and goes into another taxi. I don’t know what’s going on so I just follow the crowd. Soon we’re finally driving back towards town. We get dropped in Mowbray where we have to catch another taxi bus before being taken back to the station in Cape Town at last. AHHHHGGG I’m so happy to be back in the city!! We trudge back to the office and make it in around 4:00. At one point, Tiffany says, “Omg, I just remembered we jumped off that train.” There are no words.

So for a one and a half hour or so screening, we were in transport for almost FOUR HOURS. Its just mad! Back in the office I chug a couple of glasses of water and slouch into my desk under the air conditioner. I seriously need to work on that strat plan, and I get an ok idea of what I need to do for it tomorrow, but then five o’clock rolls around and I am OUT. I really need to go sit on my couch and stare into space.

And so, THAT is how I jumped out of a train. 

Day 59: Little Nuggets of Goodness

Whatta week with that feedback workshop! I will say, things improved on day 3 and 4. But the whole thing was still crazy, especially because I had to go by foot, train, and carpool to get to it at the crack of dawn every morning. One of my supervisors took pity on me and kindly offered to let me stay at her place so I wouldn’t have to deal with transport. I took her up on it after two morning of waking up before the sun.

So on Wednesday after the workshop, I go home with Nana to her house in Hout Bay. But first, she asks me if I’d like to see Chapman’s Peak. I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds lovely, so of course I would like to see it. We drive along a picturesque coastline on the side of mountains. I can feel excitement rise up in me that overtakes the stress of workshopping. As we drive along, Nana asks me what kind of food I miss most. Without missing a beat, I reply, “Mexican.” I of course have no expectation that we will be getting Mexican food, so it is much to my surprise when she says that, then, is what we will be having for dinner tonight. Little fireworks go off in my brain, and my stomach. They also go off in my heart because that is SO nice of her. We go to Woolies (Woolworth’s) before going back to the house and stock up on “tortilla” chips, “tortillas,” Mexican seasoning, burrito fixings, and stuff for me make my famous guacamole with. And by my famous guac, I mean Beth’s mom’s recipe (thanks Beth).

We go back to her house and the first family members I meet are the three dogs, all rescues. One is wearing a cone of shame, haha. I then meet her preteen daughters and later her husband comes home. We cook dinner and eat together, and even have molva pudding for dessert. I cannot even tell you house nice it is to be in a home with a family, and such an incredibly sweet family at that (and good looking as well). The next morning we all have breakfast together before heading off to school, work, and workshopping. The whole experience was such a welcome blessing and time of respite in a completely hectic week. Very thankful for the Davies family for inviting me into their home. Davies family, hm, maybe they’re distant relatives of the Davis family or something.

Anyway, I’m back in the office on Friday. It is probably the happiest I’ve been to be going into the office ever. I love going out and doing trainings and workshops and things, but the normalcy feels so nice after being out for almost two weeks. I check my overflowing inbox and discover an invitation to a party that will be held that evening. The Why Poverty crew won a prestigious Teddy award at a huge German film festival and they want to celebrate. I ask my supervisor heading up the WP evaluation if she’ll be going tonight. When she says yes, I RSVP and then get a response that I can bring a friend along if I’d like. Perfect. Of course I would like to share free food and booze with a friend.

I run home from work that evening, change, grab Cailey, and then head to the party. It is held in their fantastic offices which are in a house, not too far from my apartment, with a wraparound porch on the top floor. We eat and drink and mingle, and eat, and drink, drink, eat, mingle, and drink. This is everything I wanted to do with my Friday evening, especially after the chaotic week. I am again overwhelmed with a sense of thankfulness. And a sense that God is giving me little nuggets of goodness in the midst of stress to keep me going. Love.

After being at the party for awhile, my supervisor is leaving to go to another party at which her friend’s husband is DJing. She invites us to come with. Being ones to not miss such an opportunity, we go with.  After mistakenly walking into a very decked out gay bar, we get to the right place; The Piano Man I think its called. We go in and sit. It isn’t quite what I had in mind - all these people are my parents’ age or maybe a little younger. But it’s a good time anyway, good food and fun. The only thing missing was a piano player at the beautiful, shiny, baby grand piano they had sitting in there. Shame we couldn’t fly Kyle in.

As that winds down, I get word of another party about to wind up. I have a friend who has a friend who does promotion work here and he’s got a party going at a club called Casa Blanca tonight. Once again, not an opportunity to miss, so I meet up with the group and we cab on over to Casa Blanca. Let me just skip to telling you about my favorite part of the night – representatives from the Cape Town Pole Dancing Academy or Studio or something like that were there with portable poles. And yes I feel bad that this party had some women objectification issues, but this wasn’t like strip club pole dancing. It was like art. And they were wearing plenty of clothes. Oh and they would make sure to give their boyfriends big sloppy kisses before dancing, just to make that clear to everybody. Anyway, it was so cool, like Cirque du Solei. So I’m just standing there, mesmerized by these pole artists, until they pack up their portable poles and go home. Then its our turn to dance the night away, except on the ground.

Saturday, I do schoolwork all day after restocking my fridge at Pick n Pay. I’m finally making headway on my Haiti data analysis, which is very exciting! But also not so exciting when I want to go do fun things in Cape Town on the weekend… At least I had a nice dinner at the Waterfront with Alison and Robyn.

Sunday morning, I get up and go to church at Central Methodist Mission. I’m not sure I’ve taken time to talk about this church on my blog. I walked past it on my way to work for awhile before finally going in, and I wasn’t too sure about it the first two times I went (one being the weirdest Ash Wednesday service ever). But the first time I heard the regular pastor give a real sermon, I was hooked. The guy is brilliant. The church cares a LOT about social justice issues and is always getting into current issues in the country – violence against women, gay rights, labor issues. The music can be a little hit or miss, but I’m happy there. You can’t have it all, right? (Unless you’re Servant Church ;)

Anyway, after church, I finally go to the beaches at Clifton with Alison and Robyn. Its gorgeous there, but the water is also FREEZING. Seriously, I can barely put my feet in for five minutes because it is literally painful… and then you go numb. But today has been probably the hottest day since I’ve been here, and the wind wasn’t bad – the most perfect beach day. Alison and Robyn go into the water and completely submerge themselves several times. I want to do the same, but am too much of a wuss. The first time I try, I can’t go in past my calves. The second time, I go into my knees and put some water in my hair so I can try Alison’s Sun In before running back out. (I want to be blonder!) Then, the third time I go in, I get in almost up to my bum before I want to get back out. Before I turn around to run out, I see this huge swell coming in that turns into a wave taller than me! Oh crud. I turn around and start running, but its no use. The wave catches up and completely bowls me over; and I’m in shallow enough water that I don’t really go all the way under, I just kinda get knocked onto my knees and looks like a big loser. I look around and it seems as though no one saw. Well that’s good. And at this point, I’m wet enough to just suck it up and go for a swim. So I do. But only for about 2 minutes before my arms start hurting so bad I have to run out again. I will admit though, it was very refreshing once I was back on the sand and had feeling in my legs again.

This week is shaping up to be another stressful one at the office, I’m responsible for writing up the strategic plan we workshopped on last week. And I don’t know what I’m doing. Guess I’ll give it the ol’ college try. 

P.S. - My new roommate Biva moved in today. And get this, she graduated from UT last year! Isn't that nuts? 1014 is now officially Longhorn country. Moo.