As I gazed at Table Mountain from the mouth of the harbor, before the MV Explorer had docked at the Cape Town port, I could feel it in my bones, that this would be my favorite place. For being the "most dangerous" port on our itinerary, I definitely felt a strong sense of security, even if it was false. The waterfront district reminded me a lot of Baltimore's Inner Harbor. It was clean, touristy, and showed no signs of poverty. There was a healthy balance of races, and no tensions were evident on the surface.The first day in South Africa was spent on a tour of the Backsberg and Nelson Creek Family vineyards. It was your typical wine tasting, complete with a feisty guide with a superb sense of humor. The wines were all tasty, although I think the impromptu lesson on the consuming brandy properly, proved to be most valuable skill I walked away with.In the evening, Laura, Rebecca, and I invited ourselves to tag along with Kelly Rose to her South African friend, Jermaine's 30th birthday. We met up with JuJu (another friend) before hand for a couple of drinks. The party was at a private bar above a shop on Long Street. Let me tell you, Long Street is the place to be any night of the week after 11pm. There are countless clubs and bars lining more than 15 city blocks. It reminded me a lot of Bourbon Street in New Orleans.Since we were promised dinner upon arrival at the party, the girls and I held off on eating before hand. Disappointment does not even begin to describe our feelings when we got to the birthday to discover there were only finger foods. We definitely felt like the fat Americans enjoying a healthy share of appetizers. By 2 am, we had mingled enough and decided to move camp and meet up with some other SASers. Big mistake. Why is it that in every country there exists a bar, usually an "irish pub," that plays terrible American music and hosts all the English and American tourists? Well, my friends, this is where we ended up. Dubliners. The place was packed with SASers, other American tourists, a handful of Brits, and the South African creepers preying on the Americans and Brits. I have never held on to my credit card tighter. Unfortunately for several SAS students, this was the last evening they saw their cameras or credit cards. Around 4:30, the troops decided to move out, stopping only for a quick bite at a stand selling hotdog-ish sandwiches.The next morning we woke up early to make it to the market. And boy was this an experience. Ugh. This was the first day that Rebecca, Laura, Kelly Rose, and I realized that the South African Gods were not in our favor between the hours of 11-3. We found a cab driver pretty quickly and asked to be taken to Green Point Market. GP Market is a very well known market in Cape Town, everyone knows where it is, especially cab drivers. Our driver told us that GP was closed but he knew a good market that we could go to instead. Hesitantly, we decided to go. Bad idea. 15 minutes, 200 Rand, and a racist conversation (our white driver believed that the apartheid segregation was completely acceptable) later we were at the worst market I had ever been to in my entire life. Instead of traditional wooden masks, and ebony carvings, they were trying to sell us old cell phones and used mops. Luckily or unluckily we had the driver wait for us. We had him take us to the stadium that is being built for the 2010 World Cup. We found some security officers and asked them if they could help us find a cab driver that knew where Green Point Market was located. We hopped in, and started ranting to our colored driver about how terrible the previous guy had been, ironically only to wind up at the same exact market 15 minutes later. By this point we were so frustrated that we gave up all hope, and had him drop us off at waterfront.
We immediately went to talk to Nanie, our new South African friend who worked on the waterfront with JuJu. We cried to him about how terrible our day was going, and that we just wanted to give up on Cape Town. Not to mention we still had an hour cab ride to the Rivierbos, the guest house in Stellenbosch, where we had reservations. Nanie then told us that we didn’t have to worry, he would set up dinner reservations, and give us a ride to Stellenbosch when he got off work. We gladly accepted.
The car ride was so great. Rebecca and I rode with Nanie and Wazeer. And Kelly Rose and Laura rode with Fachrie and Nanie’s cousin. The conversation was great. Wazeer asked us about our political views and what we thought about 9/11. He told us about his childhood growing up in South Africa as a colored person. And they explained to us the tensions between races. Colored is a politically correct term in SA. There are 3 main races: White, Colored, and Black. The black people mostly lived in the townships. SAS advised us not to visit the townships for safety. Nanie and Wazeer were telling us they wouldn’t even go to the townships for the fear of being attacked.
For dinner we ate at the Spier vineyard, and it was so delicious. It was so awkward though because the guys didn’t eat, and the younger guys were sneaking drinks because Nanie is against drinking because they are Muslim. It was a little uncomfortable at first. Eventually every one loosened up and it was a great time. The waitresses painted our faces, there was traditional dancing, and the atmosphere was just perfect.
Upon returning to the guest house, we found our concierge, Darren, and his friend, Anthony, about to crack a bottle of wine, and we were permitted to join them under the condition that we would keep the noise to a minimum. With four chatty girls, his lasted for all of 5 minutes so we relocated to Anthony’s house just down the street. It was great fun hanging out with young South Africans. I think this may be why I liked Ghana and SA so much, because I was able to hang out with people my age.
The next morning we were able to continue our streak of bad luck between 11-3. Darren made us reservations to wine taste while horseback riding. We were pumped. I don’t know why we assumed that taxi’s were readily available in Stellenbosch, but I am now under the impression they literally do not exist. We ended up paying a guy from the visitor center to drive us to the vineyard, but he didn’t know where it was so we just drove around for 2 hours trying to find it. Disappointed, we returned to Rivierbos, where Darren and Tharley (other concierge) listened to our grumbling. They convinced us to try again and Tharley accompanied us to Asara vineyard for the BEST wine tasting of my life (not that I am very well experienced). Let me also mention, this all happened after 3pm-staying true to our SA timing.
After another hour taxi ride with the Carlo, the best driver in all of South Africa, we were home safe at the MV Explorer to rest for all of 30 minutes before we were to meet JuJu and friends for dinner. I was too tired by this point to continue on with my friends to go clubbing once again on Long Street, so I went back to the ship and chilled out for the evening.
The last three days in South Africa were spent mostly with Matthew and Dylan, two friends Kelly Rose and I made. Matthew is this cool sufer kid who moved to South Africa when he was ten. He has dreds, and is currently studying architecture at a technical college in Cape Town. Dylan was a black belt in Dojo or Gojo or some kind of asian martial arts and he grew up in Jo’burg. He works at an architecture firm in Cape Town. Both of them were so excited to meet Americans they liked that they wanted to show us everything. Knowing two S. Africans with cars definitely made the last three days in Cape Town easier.
The strange thing about SA is the stark segregation. The anti-apartheid movement only happened about 30 years ago so they are a little bit behind us as far as racial tensions go. The whites live in one area, the coloreds in another, and the blacks in the townships. Everything has gates and security. After tourism, security is the largest industry in SA. It was crazy going to Matthew’s neighborhood and not being able to see any of the houses because they had huge gates around them. Matthew’s house was a little crazy as well. He had 5 dogs (4 hotdog dogs, and 1 Labrador mixture), 3 cats, and 2 roosters…all living inside his house. It was a little hectic but charming none the less.
I have a lot more to say but I am tired of writing and you are probably tired of reading so just ask me about it later .
16 October 2009
Here today Ghana Tomorrow
I have been bitten by the African Bug. And I am not referring to all the flea bites on the backs of my calves. Ghana now holds a piece of my heart in its hands. I know that I will return again one day to the beautiful country of jungles and broken highways. The Ghanaian people are of the most beautiful race I have ever been graced to meet. They are wise, kind, and above all else gentle. Every person I met touched me in a significant way.
My first thought as I pulled out of the port gates in the maroon shuttle overcrowded with SAS students was “THIS IS AFRICA.” As we exited the highly secured entrance to the Tema port, our small shuttle of 15 students immediately became the minority. A feeling that I have personally never truly experienced on the scale I did that day. At first, I have to admit that I was uncomfortable, this feeling quickly wore off since practically everyone spoke English and everyone was so warm and friendly.
After bargaining with a taxi driver, Sarah, Stephanie, and I headed toward Accra with no idea what the $10, 40 minute ride had in store for us. For all of you believers out there that think LA rush hour traffic is bad, or that NYC cab drivers are crazy, Ghana is NOT the place for you. There are NO rules. I never realized the luxury of painted lines and streetlights. We had our driver drop us at the “Cultural Center” aka tourist market, where Ghanaians make as much off of tourists as they can by hawking goods made mostly by the Asante people of the northern rural areas and Volta region. I didn’t buy much, but I learned the proper way to play Mancala, not to trust all people claiming to be Rastafarians, even if they seem really cool, and that it is okay and rather easy to say no to vendors.
We didn’t stick around too long since we had plans on attending a welcome reception by a Ghanaian university. The students were so friendly, most of them seemed to want to travel, earn their graduate degrees, start a business, then return to Ghana and invest their time and efforts in propelling the country into first world status. I found this theme fairly popular among the people I met. Most were interested in seeing other places but it seemed all Ghanaians shared a certain love for their country that is unmatched by any nationality I have met before.
I ended up going out with a few of the Ghanaian students afterwards. Since I was tired, and have decided not to participate in drinking while on this voyage, it was a little lame. We went to this place called Purple Pub, where a drink consisting of 3 shots gin and ½ shot of lime was immediately placed in my hand, um no thankyou.
It was an odd juxtaposition, all of the students had very high tech cell phones, yet we were in the middle of one of the most poverty-stricken areas I have witnessed.
Of the many experiences that I encountered in Ghana, by far the most striking was the overnight trip to the Volta Region of the country. Volta is located in the Southwest corner of Ghana bordering the country of Togo. While in Volta, I was privileged to peak Mt. Afadjato-the highest mountain, swim at the base of the Wli Waterfall-the tallest in the country, feed the endangered Mona Monkey of the village of Tafi, meet a school full of Ghanaian children, stay in the Chances Hotel that Obama graced, and even learn a song in one of the many local dialects of Ewe.
For my final night in Ghana, Andy and I ventured out in Tema. We had heard of other students enjoying their time there the previous nights so thought we would stay close since it was a 5-minute taxi drive. Once we were there we quickly realized we were the only white people, and this was a locals area. We didn’t see any other SASers and felt pretty safe…at first. Then we made friends with this guy that was selling bootleg dvds and he took it upon himself to “show us around.” He took us down this dark alley and started leading us across a dark futbol field. I quickly found myself in the situation my parents had warned me about. Andy and I exchanged uncomfortable expressions and turned things around. We got back to the main street, certain we had just barely avoided a bad situation.
That’s when we saw the only other white person I saw in all of Ghana. Naturally, we approached him and learned he was from London and had recently married Amina, the sweetest Ghanaian woman ever. She immediately took us under her wing and invited us to her house. It was a single room, with no electricity, very dark. There were a series of locks on her door and everything inside was locked in suitcases. Amina showed us wedding pictures and gave me a Ghana t-shirt. She was waiting for her marriage visa’s from the UK to be processed so that they could move back to London.
Amina kept buying us traditional Ghanaian food. We tried grilled liver, this porridge stuff that was served in a plastic bag that you bit the corner off and sucked out the goo, fresh sugar cane, and coconut juice. MMMMM. We were eating all the foods we advised not to but, I just couldn’t say no to her. I regretted this decision later when I was sick in bed for two days. Anyway, Amina was so worried about us because apparently we had wandered into the cocaine district when she found us. It was common for white people to be taken advantage of and even fall victim of crime. She wouldn’t let us leave without her setting up a cab driver back to the ship for us. I am really glad that we happened to run into her.
My first thought as I pulled out of the port gates in the maroon shuttle overcrowded with SAS students was “THIS IS AFRICA.” As we exited the highly secured entrance to the Tema port, our small shuttle of 15 students immediately became the minority. A feeling that I have personally never truly experienced on the scale I did that day. At first, I have to admit that I was uncomfortable, this feeling quickly wore off since practically everyone spoke English and everyone was so warm and friendly.
After bargaining with a taxi driver, Sarah, Stephanie, and I headed toward Accra with no idea what the $10, 40 minute ride had in store for us. For all of you believers out there that think LA rush hour traffic is bad, or that NYC cab drivers are crazy, Ghana is NOT the place for you. There are NO rules. I never realized the luxury of painted lines and streetlights. We had our driver drop us at the “Cultural Center” aka tourist market, where Ghanaians make as much off of tourists as they can by hawking goods made mostly by the Asante people of the northern rural areas and Volta region. I didn’t buy much, but I learned the proper way to play Mancala, not to trust all people claiming to be Rastafarians, even if they seem really cool, and that it is okay and rather easy to say no to vendors.
We didn’t stick around too long since we had plans on attending a welcome reception by a Ghanaian university. The students were so friendly, most of them seemed to want to travel, earn their graduate degrees, start a business, then return to Ghana and invest their time and efforts in propelling the country into first world status. I found this theme fairly popular among the people I met. Most were interested in seeing other places but it seemed all Ghanaians shared a certain love for their country that is unmatched by any nationality I have met before.
I ended up going out with a few of the Ghanaian students afterwards. Since I was tired, and have decided not to participate in drinking while on this voyage, it was a little lame. We went to this place called Purple Pub, where a drink consisting of 3 shots gin and ½ shot of lime was immediately placed in my hand, um no thankyou.
It was an odd juxtaposition, all of the students had very high tech cell phones, yet we were in the middle of one of the most poverty-stricken areas I have witnessed.
Of the many experiences that I encountered in Ghana, by far the most striking was the overnight trip to the Volta Region of the country. Volta is located in the Southwest corner of Ghana bordering the country of Togo. While in Volta, I was privileged to peak Mt. Afadjato-the highest mountain, swim at the base of the Wli Waterfall-the tallest in the country, feed the endangered Mona Monkey of the village of Tafi, meet a school full of Ghanaian children, stay in the Chances Hotel that Obama graced, and even learn a song in one of the many local dialects of Ewe.
For my final night in Ghana, Andy and I ventured out in Tema. We had heard of other students enjoying their time there the previous nights so thought we would stay close since it was a 5-minute taxi drive. Once we were there we quickly realized we were the only white people, and this was a locals area. We didn’t see any other SASers and felt pretty safe…at first. Then we made friends with this guy that was selling bootleg dvds and he took it upon himself to “show us around.” He took us down this dark alley and started leading us across a dark futbol field. I quickly found myself in the situation my parents had warned me about. Andy and I exchanged uncomfortable expressions and turned things around. We got back to the main street, certain we had just barely avoided a bad situation.
That’s when we saw the only other white person I saw in all of Ghana. Naturally, we approached him and learned he was from London and had recently married Amina, the sweetest Ghanaian woman ever. She immediately took us under her wing and invited us to her house. It was a single room, with no electricity, very dark. There were a series of locks on her door and everything inside was locked in suitcases. Amina showed us wedding pictures and gave me a Ghana t-shirt. She was waiting for her marriage visa’s from the UK to be processed so that they could move back to London.
Amina kept buying us traditional Ghanaian food. We tried grilled liver, this porridge stuff that was served in a plastic bag that you bit the corner off and sucked out the goo, fresh sugar cane, and coconut juice. MMMMM. We were eating all the foods we advised not to but, I just couldn’t say no to her. I regretted this decision later when I was sick in bed for two days. Anyway, Amina was so worried about us because apparently we had wandered into the cocaine district when she found us. It was common for white people to be taken advantage of and even fall victim of crime. She wouldn’t let us leave without her setting up a cab driver back to the ship for us. I am really glad that we happened to run into her.
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