Two Penguins Playing and an Ostrich in a Pear Tree

Here in lovely Cape Town, the spring-to-summer weather is finally starting to behave itself and everything seems to be moving at the speed of light. Somehow I'm rounding the corner toward my last month here (can't be true!), and I'm in a scramble to see and do everything. I was also in a scramble to make some serious life plans last week (hence the lack of blog entry), but more on that is to come.... :-)

Two Fridays ago, the Heritage Day dance event took place on a large, outdoor amphitheater in front of the Iziko Museum. I spent the good majority of the days leading up to the event phoning a couple different organizations, meeting with the museum people to sort out transport, making sure all 6 of the iKapa township centers were ready to go, and rehearsing my kids' hip hop piece. By the morning of, I was sufficiently stressed that it wasn't going to turn out well and there would be one little American girl to blame. The morning was a comedy of errors and mishaps, the most worrisome being the fact that the bus didn't pick up any of the children on time and we had no way of getting ahold of the driver. There was this awesome (in retrospect) moment that would have been very fitting in a "Leah is Stressed" movie montage, where I'm in a taxi on my way to town, juggling a stack of papers, answering cell phone calls from about four different township centers, and getting yelled at in Xhosa because their transport isn't there. Sweating. Frazzled as shit. Forgetting to put the South African inflection in my voice so they understand what the hell I'm saying. Eventually, all the kids turned up and the show got started. Nearly all of my fellow VAC interns came to show support, which was great, and the show turned out to be a huge success. I won't say my hip hop piece was a work of dance genius, but the kids got through it and I was very proud. At the end, they ran up to me like any of my dance groups might, with "how'd we do??" expressions on their faces and I hammed up my approval to the max. Back in the changing room, I passed out cookies (er, biscuits) that I had bought, and everyone was quite happy indeed. Mission accomplished.


Last Friday, a couple of friends and I borrowed a car and took a road trip around the coast of Cape Town. Between a Canadian who knew how to operate a (crappy) manual Volkswagen, an English girl who could drive on the left side of the road, and two Americans- one of which was a decent navigator and the other having a sweet mixed CD (me)- we made up the perfect road trip crew. Our first stop was Muizenberg, a badass surf spot complete with brightly painted bathhouses along the sand. After a series of shameless tourist pics, we were on our way.


Next stop was Boulder Beach, home to hordes of little penguins. We walked along a little wooden boardwalk suspended above the sand and looked at the feathered friends - all dressed up with nowhere to go. And have you ever heard the noise they make!? It was somewhere between a grunt and whine, which made us feel like we had walked in on this species at an inopportune time, but was also pretty hilarious. I got the chance to get up close and personal with one before leaving the penguins and their fancy world behind. I felt bashful that I had forgotten my formalwear.


Cape Point Nature Reserve (containing Cape of Good Hope) was something major on my list of things to see, and I'm really glad I actually got the chance to go there. We hiked what felt like 5 million stone steps to get to the lighthouse on the cliff. From up there we saw two things: a humpback whale nursing a calf and the intermingling of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans. Lucky for us, we stumbled upon an old man that gave an impromptu lecture about this particular area. He told us all about the animals and how they know where one ocean turns into another. When I was younger, there was a boy on my block who's mother forbid him to go any farther than a particular street sign protruding from the sidewalk. I imagined the sea life around Cape Point having some of the same restrictive understanding ("Woah. That's, like, totally the Indian Ocean right there, bro. Gotta stop.")

So, down from there- a little bit around the bay, past the ostriches, but still within the nature reserve- was the Cape of Good Hope. Although it's often mislabeled as the "Most Southern Tip of the African Continent," it's actually the most South West point. Something somewhere hangs down a little farther but doesn't get as much fame. Anyway, our day trip around the coast pretty much concluded there and as the African sun set behind us, we putted our way back to Obs in the blue tin can that made the whole day possible.


One of my absolute favorite features of Cape Town is the Old Biscuit Mill on Saturday mornings. It's basically a hipster food and craft fair that happens in this huge warehouse-type place with brick outdoor courtyard. San Francisco would either be really proud or really jealous of this event. We go just about every week and there are some pretty key rituals. First of all is the free sample circuit. The food tent has everything from mint and rooibos lemonade, to fresh baked meringue tarts, to curried kabobs, to kudu burgers, to nutella crepes, to home brewed ciders, to a raw oyster bar, to a 15-variety pesto bar, to thin crust pizza station, to bagel and lox shop (and that's just to name a few). Just about every little booth has some little morsel laid out to try. Often, when I do a good enough job on the samples, I pocket the 50 Rand (about $6) I would have spent on a gourmet meal and take it with me to the craft and clothing tent. Outside of both those arenas is a the courtyard where all the 20 and 30-somethings, in their trendiest attire, lounge around and chat. On a nice day, it's just about the most awesome place in the whole wide world and although it's a far cry from the "African experience," I just absolutely love it.


I've been riding the minibuses daily now and there is never a shortage of action in those things. If I had 5 Rand for every time a minibus driver nearly sideswipes another one just to get a customer, I could probably buy myself a couple sheep. The first thing to master when trying to get a minibus is the lingo "WynbirSeeeees" translates to "Wynberg Sister?" which translates to "Hey Leah, want a ride to the gym?" Yes, why yes I do. "MitchBorSeeeeees," however, translates to "Mitchell's Plein, sister?" which translates to "Hey, get in and I will drop you in the STRAIGHT UP ghetto." I was lucky not to have to learn this the hard way. So a few days ago, there I was on a pleasantly uncrowded minibus, headed in the correct direction (dude, I SO get Africa now), enjoying the afternoon journey when screeeeeeech, we pull over and then, oh ok, a whole extended family go about loading themselves into my bus. They likely couldn't have all fit on a Christmas card, but somehow they were all about to get in this 12-seater vehicle. Driver's assistant pulls me from where I'm sitting, rearranges me, and family files in- grandparents, aunts, uncles, babies crawling across my lap- the works. So we're moving along and the driver cranks the wheel to pull into the petrol station. We're sitting there, packed in like tetris pieces, when Grandpa who had been sitting shotty, opens the doors and steps on out. Now given the family's reaction, Grandpa probably isn't quite "with it." As he wandered his feeble little self into the middle of busy Main Road, I endured the loudest and most aggressive yelps from within that bus. Grandpa either didn't hear them or didn't give a shit, because he kept on heading straight for oncoming traffic. Calmly as can be, however- a funny contrast to the franticness emulating from the minibus's main cabin- when he got within inches of the speeding vehicles, he did a slow about-face. He then strolled right back toward the passenger seat and got in with the nonchalance of a ladies man. It was like an African, elderly game of chicken.

So, there are some big things happening this week, namely the 25th anniversary of my birth. :-) Haha. The other highly anticipated event of this upcoming weekend is a huge music festival called Rockin' the Daisies. I have been planning on this since I first arrived to Cape Town. Basically, a ton of people pour into this huge, open wine estate. There, everyone camps for 3 days and 4 stages are erected to host the most famous of South African bands. It's supposed to be an outrageously good time and I can't wait! Also, I'd like to wish a very happy belated birthday to Emily Schwartz, and send some early birthday wishes to Carey Ordway! Wish I could be there to shower you girls with beer and cupcakes!

Hope everyone is well and that I hear from you all soon! Love you all,

<3 L