Things are in motion at iKapa Dance Theatre, and I was happy to have given some more classes at the centers this week. I've still been teaching hip-hop which always goes over well, but also gave them some country line dancing the other day. I tried to explain where it came from, and after I said "Cowboy" and "Rodeo" and "Swing your partner round 'n round" (all three of which were received with blank expressions), I began to gallop around like a horse and swing an imaginary lasso above my head. I don't know Xhosa for "What the hell is this crazy American teacher doing?" but I'm sure that's what I heard them whisper. For the good of everyone involved, I aborted my attempt at explanation and moved onto the dancing. This Friday is the performance for Heritage Day and although the dance is not yet at the level I want it, my students seem to basically know what they're doing. Time will tell how they perform under pressure. If you've ever dropped a bunch of bugs into a box (I haven't) and watched them run in 400 different directions, I am hoping the kids don't look like that on stage. Update to come.
Saturday, after waking up and going with everyone to the hipster craft and food market called Old Biscuit Mill (if San Francisco was contained inside Cape Town, it would be here), I set off on a solo mission to Kalk Bay. I boarded the train and 45 minutes later, hopped off right on the coast. The fish market along the harbor was my first stop and I was instantly enamored with its rugged and colorful charm. A shack on the corner boasted the "Best Fish and Chips in South Africa" and a band of African drummers rocked the crowd just outside on their bongos and xylophones. The fishing boats lined up in the harbor were a myriad of color, and each were adorned with countless hoops, hooks and nets. Walking along the harbor's edge, I ducked under the large fish hanging from racks above and narrowly escaped being knocked in the ankle by a hunk of fish flesh chucked from a boat below. Up on the street were cafes, antique marts (a Joanie Webber paradise), and little hippie clothing stores. Nothing particularly life-changing happened here, but all in all, it was lovely. I sat with a cup of tea and read for an hour or so and hopped back on the train to my 'hood around late afternoon.
So, I would like to dedicate this portion of my blog to some very specific, very South African, food items. First to take stage- Walkie Talkies. It was actually in Swaziland that I was first offered this illusive delicacy. Instantly wrapped up in my positive association with the toys once used to play secret agent or mall security cop, I excitedly responded, "Yeah, I will totally try it!" (I mean, where could I go wrong?) I moment later my excitement and intrigue were pulverized by one brief statement, "It's fried chicken heads and feet." Glllaaaaaa gross! Needless to say, I politely declined but try as I might, I couldn't keep the contorted expression of disgust off my face. As I have been told before and was reminded again yesterday by a creepy, snaggletoothed man on the train, I am "horribly expressive." Thanks. I make freakish faces. Got it.
The other day, I was hanging out in the car getting ready to teach in the Guguletu township. One of the dance company's apprentices (who is serving as my teaching assistant) ran across the dirt road to the sheet metal and cardboard constructed corner market. She came back with a snack that looked pretty delightful. It was a round, golden-fried dough ball that smelled like savory spices. Wanna try? She asked me. Ok sure, but (I've learned my lesson) what IS it?? The answer... vetkoet with chicken livers! I crinkled my nose and darted my eyes all around, searching for an answer to my dilemma. Should I embrace this cultural experience and try something that, if I'm being honest, sounds utterly foul? I looked back at Salena and she held the thing and smiled mockingly at me, so I grabbed it and chomped into it. Chew. Process. Chew. OH GOD chewchewchew, spit? NO swallowSWALLOW jeeeeeeeeeezzussss GET THIS OUTTA MY MOUTH! When I came back to consciousness from this palate warfare, everyone was in hysterics. I was just happy to be alive. In the end, I was glad to have tried it and also glad that I now a) know that I could probably win Fear Factor and b) have a great "surprise snack" for anyone I wish to inflict harm upon. Enemies beware.
Next, I would like to introduce one of favorite features of a sushi dining experience here in Africa. First of all, while seeing a Japanese person walking down the street in SA is the equivalent of spotting a rhino using the crosswalk in downtown Cape Town, sushi restaurants are EVERYWHERE. There are literally three in a row in Obs. Who knew? Anyway, while some are better than others, most offer the same exact menu, complete with one very endearing item- The Fashion Sandwich. It took me a second to warm up to this but I tried one last night for the first time and can assure you, this sandwich in all its fashion glory is truly something to marvel at. It's kind of like if regular sushi was stopped on the street by "E" television and subjected to a make over, it would likely emerge as a fashion sandwich- complete with mayo blob and decorative fish row on top. Its stacked layers of rice, seaweed, and fish lure you in, but leave just enough to the imagination. Fashion's slender and tall build are the envy of all other maki on the block. And for only about 20 Rand for two, it only makes sense to hop on the Fashion Sandwich bandwagon.
If there's another thing that South Africa does very, very right, it's the marshmallow. I have long been fond of this puffy, not quite round not quite square treat- and I have yet to meet an American who doesn't love s'mores- but SA has taken the common place marshmallow and run with it. My first trip to the Pick n Pay (larger supermarket) sent me into a mallow frenzy. They have coconut marshmallows. They have passion fruit marshmallows. They have multi-colored marshmallows and ones shaped like fish, or hearts, or soccer balls. They even have marshmallows called Manhattans that are shaped like hot dogs. If that isn't brilliance, I don't know what is.
ANYWAYZZZ... time is ticking right on by here, scarily enough, and I'm starting to worry that I won't get everything in. I mean, I haven't even hiked Table Mountain yet?! WAH better get on it. How's home? Give me the goods...
Love you all very much!
Leah
No comments:
Post a Comment