Biscuits and Peninsulas

Yesterday was a public holiday (June 16 is National Youth Day commemorating the shooting of Hector Pieterson and others in response to protests against a law saying that kids would have to use Afrikaans in their classes rather than many of their native languages). It seemed strange that there wasn't a more somber way to celebrate this- things like Memorial Day and Veterans Day are just more reasons for discounts at restaurants and bars.

The past 2 days have been pretty boring at work- we're done with our preliminary questions for our AIDS questionnaires and just have to wait for the director of St. Joseph's to sit down with us and make sure everything is ok. So really the past few days we just sit in our offices and go on the internet because it's the only time of the day that we have it (Quynh quote: "I love the internet. I just want to be a willow tree and have the internet". Sounds vaguely like the life spirit trees from Avatar). However, we did get warned by one of the admins that we have to be careful not to go over our 200 MB limits, because apparently all of the internet in the entire building shuts down. It makes you really love internet oh so much.

On Tuesday after work, we went to a place called the Old Biscuit Mill (named so because it used to be a bakery) to meet up again with Tasnim, whose dad runs a summer program here and who is responsible for our invitations to U.S. consulate parties (US/Slovenia tomorrow!), as well as to finally meet up with Emily Auchincloss (MC '11), whom only I had seen in person and whom our host families refer to as "our mysterious friend Emily".

We find Emily on the street and go into the stores while we wait for Tasnim. Usually on Saturdays, the Biscuit Mill is converted to something like the New Haven Farmers' Market, but slightly hipper. We walk into a tent which is brightly lit by makeshift chandeliers and is filled mostly with racks of womens' clothing and jewelry interspersed with South African wine stands. The second partition of the tent is sort of the main room- delicious food stands run along the outside, as well as South African brewing companies and more wine. It's definitely a younger crowd, as Emily finds some of her housemates and we sit with some beers, wine, and falafel. I also treat myself to some Namibian beef biltong (pronounced bull-tongue, it's like beef jerky but not nearly as dry and in shavings rather than thick strips), spicy with really deep herby flavor. Unfortunately for me, I had just had a huge dinner at Quynh's place and was a little tipsy from the wine that her host mom kept offering me (" Tomorrow's a public holiday. It's fine, you don't have to wake up".), but that didn't stop me from partaking a little in some more beer and some yellowfin tuna sushi.

Afterwards, we go with Emily to watch the Brazil/North Korea game at a Jamaican-themed bar in Observatory (Obs), a really hip, eclectic part of town named for an actual observatory. A lot of Emily's housemates are there and we sit with a very pro-Brazil crowd. While talking with Emily and her friends, I start to get a sense of the very different experiences we have had so far. Emily lives almost in a commune- 16 students (mostly American with a French doctor and some other random internationals thrown in) with no real overseer living at the house. She's really close to a lot of bars and cool restaurants and her program helps plan a lot of the major sight-seeing events, whereas Quynh and I are right in the suburbs with not a lot of transportation options or set plans, usually benefiting from the generosity of our host families. They talk about their trips to go shark-cage diving and taking a few days to go to the jungles of Namibia, and I start to second-guess my choice to try and set up this internship by myself rather than using an umbrella organization.

After getting back from Obs, I can't find anyone in my house. I know that there had been some excitement because Angelique's (my neighbor's girlfriend) brother is a really good drag racer in South Africa, and some of Moira's relatives wanted to meet him and see his car. I find my new German housemates (Sebastian and Marek), as well as Freddy, Angelique, and 2 hookahs in Angelique's house, as she tells me that they're going out to the pubs. I end up in Tygerberg first at Stones (a popular chain of poolhouses/bars/dance floors) where I talk to Angelique about her moving to Dubai soon where its effing 53 degrees C (thats somewhere in the 120s F) and how bad the DJ is at mixing. We soon move to China White, a much posher bar/dance place. I didn't get to change before we left, so I'm instantly recognized as American by someone at the door because of my accent and Yale sweatshirt and feel sort of out-of-place at this dressier place (another guy thought I looked like McLovin, which instantly made me set a reminder for myself to get contact solution so I can wear my contacts more often). The Germans dance funny (it looks like a lot of stomping and head bobbing), but the DJ was damn good.

Yesterday, I had made plans with Fredre (my host family's middle daughter) and her fiance Gareth to go out with them on the holiday while Quynh was on her own adventures. They kidnapped me around 12:30 and we set out for the peninsula, one of the more beautiful parts of Cape Town (really, everything is fucking beautiful around here).

I've always liked these two, especially after they took care of me after my panic attack my first night. Gareth is a gentle giant, unless you're playing rugby or cricket with him. He's incredibly funny, and although not very fond of foreigners, has allowed me to hang out with them. Moira always described Fredre as her chatty daughter and listening to her describe her stories of robbers at Woolworth's are hilarious. She's volunteered in Canada and we're able to discuss North American/South African stereotypes, which include how white people can be Africans, or why the hell American food portions are so big.

Since Gareth is vegetarian, she made me a big vegetarian omelet and then we were off for our journey to the peninsula. We first drove through Gareth's hometown- a colored township where Fredre's dad was unimpressed by the small apartment that they lived in when he met them while they were dating. Although colored townships aren't as dangerous as black townships, it's still pretty damn rough out there ("If you get out of this car, these guys will all try to rob you. All of them. Go on and try it.")

We start by driving through Constantia and part of the wine route. Cape Town is famous for its abundance of vineyards, and all of these look like old plantation homes since they are very old, expensive property. It's like Napa Valley juxtaposed in the African mountains. But the main destination is Chapman's Peak- part of the same range as Table Mountain, but not quite the same. Dangerous for rockslides along the side of the road (and on top of us in some of the tunnels), we drive along the ridges and overlook the sea and parts of the other coasts, as you can see across to downtown Cape Town. This city never fails to make me jealous- the seas are blue (and if you're lucky, full of whales) and it's just perfect scenery- some place that Thomas Kinkade should consider moving to.

As we continue to drive past Noordhoek and Scarborough, it's just more of the same- beautiful scenery, beaches, mountains, with the occasional sign warning not to feed baboons on the road. It is at this point that Gareth decides to increase the amount of beauty with some Master Kush. Remembering the last time I tried this, I take it slowly and feel the same physiological reactions- fast heartbeat, warmth, slight brain numbness- but just let the Biggie blasting from our car do the singing (I'm glad Biggie at least made it across the ocean before he died). Pringles, Biggie, nature- sounds like perfection to me.

Coming around towards Simon's Town brings more overlooks of beaches and wineries. On the way to Kalk Bay, Gareth and Fredre remember that there's an ostrich farm. So obviously we have to go to the ostrich farms. I'm still a bit high at this point and it's raining, but there are hundreds of ostrich pens sitting in this field. As I'm taking pictures with them, I'm convinced that they're all glaring at me, and that you have to treat them like hippogriffs and get their trust. This fails miserably, and thus we head off to the gift store. Have you ever wanted ostrich leather? Purses, shoes- I don't know if this place actually expects to sell all of these products ever, but they're all still here. They even have an egg painting section, for which they've made a special display with eggs of all the World Cup countries.

We finally got to the beaches at St. James and Muizenberg. The eastern side of the peninsula is much more charming than the west- it would be like walking into a seaport in Maine compared to something closer to a California or Miami beach. Everything is much more low key here- grizzled fishermen watch the World Cup on a tiny screen above of their pickup truck, fish and chips stands are everywhere along the beach. The water is definitely cold (it is winter after all), but unusually warmer than the air around it. There's a funny bit of fake grass separating the boardwalk from beach, and the edge of St. James is lined with really colorful changing rooms, an Andy Warhol-like combination of sameness and color swapping. We head towards the marina, where fish are being sold and the two seals that inhabit the bay eat squid thrown by sailors tanned by the wind and salty sea. We end up buying some fish to braai later and drive home, still high and still wandering through the mountains.

Its around 8:30 and we go to watch the South Africa/Uruguay game at Lucien's baseball club house, where we find him playing poker with old men. Gareth and I (after smoking again while he was braaing) are still pretty high and now sitting next to a guy who apparently played for Mamelodi Sundowns (a South African team) at one point. Freddy and the Germans come in later, armed with Freddy's bugle, his response to the vuvuzela. Unfortunately the crowd does not go home happy as Bafana loses 3-0 in a very unimpressive showing. Grumbles are about as people joke (but still pretty seriously) about taking the South African flags off their cars and choosing other teams to root for. But I leave with my housemates, bugling into the night.