All the festivities began last Wednesday night when a couple friends and I ventured to an art gallery opening over near the Old Biscuit Mill. This trendy-glam event housed some spectacular tapestry paintings and many, many interestingly outfitted individuals. After sitting downstairs at the cafe, enjoying a few fancy Namibian beers, and chatting with the gallery owner, we set off for home. Little did I realize, however, that my birthday was a mere couple hours away and my dear friends weren't keen to let me go home before the birthday ball dropped. At Stones, a local bar in Obs that has enough pool tables to keep the whole American military entertained, I was invited (forced) to take a Springbok Shooter. This green and white mini cup of atrocity, I learned, must always be accompanied by a little song and dance. In this repeat-after-me ditty, one puts their fingers up to their head like ears and bounces their shoulders in gallop form. The springbok looks to the right (and you look), the springbok looks to the left (and, surprise, you look), then the springbok, er, does something else (wouldn't this story be better if I remembered?), and then it goes to the swamp and drinks! At that point with ears still affixed to head, you're supposed to grab the shot glass in your teeth and pour it at your face. I cheated and used my hands, but my springbok shot coordinator executed it all flawlessly. After it was all said and done, I wondered if perhaps this guy makes a habit of seeking out birthday girls and presenting them with the springbok ritual. it's a bit of an odd hobby, but who am I to judge?
The next day, officially aged 25 years and feeling pretty fantastic about it, I met a group of friends in town for a delicious lunch. I was excited to have a birthday in Springtime this year, but the weather wasn't cooperating. It actually seemed to mock me with Northern hemisphere-esk drizzle and grey skies. After lunch, Zoe took me for mani/pedis (man I thought that was lame to say, but it's WAY worse to actually type out), and a stroll though the ritzy Cape Quarter. The day flew by and we got back to the house just in time to get ready for dinner. My household of girls and I went for a fantastic dinner in town and the rest of my Cape Town associates- all fifteen of them- met up at a little back alley lounge called Julep for drinks. All in all, it was a fantastic day and I couldn't have asked for more, save having all my best friends and family there (and maybe a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting). :-)
Friday morning marked the beginning of Rocking the Daisies. This South African music festival was a three day event at an enormous wine estate about an hour outside of Cape Town. Having heard about it since approximately 20 minutes after landing in Cape Town on my first day, I was very excited to partake in the festivities. Last week (leading up the weekend) was a scramble of logistical arranging and re-arranging. Some pretty major details like getting sleeping bags, a tent and, oh yeah, a way to get our little selves there, were painstaking to sort out. Earlier that week we had been involved in a seemingly dodgy deal that involved meeting a little man on a street corner and exchanging cash for a 4 man tent. And, it wasn't until the day before we left that we found a ride. So on friday at 11am when said "ride" met us at the train station and he was a normal-seeming guy in a normal-seeming vehicle, we were quite relieved. We Daisy goers loaded up, and off we went. "Captain Crazy," Lydia, Zoe and Leah.
When we got there, we debated briefly over tent placement and then got our temporary home assembled without too much difficuty. Because we had arrived so early (to avoid the queue of vehicles behind the entrance), we had plenty of time to get aquatinted with the neighbors. First, I will tell you a bit about our fearless driver, "Captain Crazy." Now to be fair, he seemed normal enough on the drive and was actually quite a nice guy, but his true creepy colors came out when he spotted his flatmate from across the campsite. Never have I seen more rage in anyone's eyes and as he snapped twigs in his skinny hands, his face started literally twitching in anger. We watched the Captain in silence as he watched his enemy in silence, and we all jumped back a bit as he balled his fists and let out a loud grunt of rage through clenched teeth. Not more than 3 seconds later, he looked at Lydia calmly and with a smile, asked "What festivals in the UK have you been to?" What a flip-switch crazy creeper!
There was another group nearby who I dubbed "The Twenty-two Year Olds." They were a collection of 3 mere teenagers who were none-too-stelthy about their made up names and ages. They had the White House of tents complete with zipper double doors and front porch with awning. Despite the fact that it was the struggle of the century to get that thing standing (and trust that I mocked them EVERY step of the way), it stood pretty high and mighty in the end and served as an excellent landmark to help us find our not-at-all-distinguishable brown home. The Twenty-two Year Olds were good for a few things, primarily sharing their biltong (beef jerky), and entertaining us with consistently bad voice impressions. A South African doing an American southern accent is always bad, but this, this was TERRIBLE. The third group to move into the "neighborhood" did so in the middle of the night, bless them, and made more noise than I thought humanly possible. These guys, as time reveled, were possibly the rudest individuals ever imaginable and made sure to make their douchebaggery known every time we climbed into or out of the tent. On the second night, someone peed on our tent right near Zoe's face. It wasn't too hard to figure out who might have been responsible.
Despite troubles in the 'hood, the festival itself was amazing and I was introduced to several fantastic South African bands, my favorite being The Dirty Skirts, but a close second being The Springbok Nude Girls. The grounds were pretty huge and had a lot to offer including an enormous main stage, and two smaller stages (one of which was in a barn), a HUGE inflatable dance tent, and all kinds of little places to do things. There were about four bars, a food tent that had anything and everything to offer, a Ray Bans tent were one could play Rock Band, an Airwaves gum tent where you could ride an interactive snowboard in a sub zero room, and a Nokia tent that had huge coffee table-sized touch screen computers. One highlight was the dam that was surrounded by grass and filled with various different pool toys. There were even two human sized, floating hamster balls that people could get inside (somehow) and run across the water in. The whole thing was a spectacular, drunken, wildernessy, adult-inhabited pool party.
So Sunday, after 3 days of camping in the dirt and mud and staying up several nights in a row dancing, I was about ready to curl up and die when Captain Crazy finally delivered us back to Obs. As the rain fell on Cape Town, I took the afternoon to get myself sorted and have the sleep of a lifetime.
This week so far has gotten off to a good start. Yesterday, not having to go into iKapa, I took the afternoon to explore the Muslim district of Bo-Kaap with its colorful homes and detailed mosques. I visited the small museum that surprisingly contained an original Confederate flag left over from when the SS Alabama landed in the Cape Town and stayed to develop a trade route. The museum also spoke of the displacement of the native South African people as the city center expanded outward. It also outlined the racism they faced on their own soil- a story that spans across many communities in the area and is still a challenge today.
Another exciting change this week is my involvement with the professional iKapa Dance Theatre dancers. I have been asked to set a hip-hop piece on the company for them to keep in their repertoire. Because of this, I have spent a couple long days at their brand new Guguletu (township) studio space working on a mixture of that, some admin projects and outreach teaching. The race is on to get everything completed as I now only have about 3 weeks left. Gah!
In other interesting news, I bought myself a very good birthday present this week... a one-way ticket to Sydney, Australia. I have decided, after careful thought, that I am simply not ready to be home yet and have more adventuring and discovery to do. In light of needing some income, I decided to sink roots there for a bit, enjoy the summer, find some work and make some Aussie friends. It's a big change and I'm overwhelmingly excited about it! For now, though, I'm still here in beautiful South Africa and am determined to make the most of my last almost-month. That means beach days, hiking up then repelling down Table Mountain, biking through the winelands, having a braai in the townships, sailing with the University of Cape Town sailing club and hopefully much more.
Love and miss everyone! Carve a pumpkin for me, will ya?!
Talk soon. Cheers!
L-dub
With all of this fun coming to an end...what possibley will you do in CA for even a couple of months that will pale in comparison to the "joy of jail" or "proposals from gold toothed wonders"?
ReplyDeleteWill be good to have you in the states - even if its only for a short visit - we would sure love to see you - but alas - maybe on the return.