Somehow we have made more friends in Stellenbosch than in Cape Town.
Friday afternoon we had plans to drive into Stellenbosch to stay with our friend Pierre, whom we had stayed with the last time we were over. We got to his place around 5 and just crashed. Pierre was taking it easy because he had a hockey (read: field hockey, which is played by men everywhere but America), but he offered to take us for a walking tour on this mountain overlooking the Stellenbosch sports fields. It’s a very similar hike to East Rock, accompanied by his huge Weimeraner named Faustus. The more he tells us about US (University of Stellenbosch), the more it sounds like Yale in terms of structure- lots of Res’s (equivalent to our college system), with a system of old white men behind it and funding it. But US has kept a lot of its conservatism and whiteness- it’s about 10% colored and 10% black, but still classes are taught in Afrikaans, and heated conversations pop up on occasion regarding race relations and even between kids of English descent and Afrikaners because of old scars from the Boer Wars, when the English opened a can of whoopass on South Africa (at least, the 2nd one was. Pierre has the wonderful combination of being both colored and part English). A lot of the kids at US come from neighboring farms and winelands in the countryside and from families who have been at US for years.
After listening to some FreshlyGround (download them ASAP, if you’ve heard the remake of Waka Waka it’s also them but their music by itself is pretty chill), Pierre decides that he won’t do any work and will go out with us. But first we need to get some dinner, so he brings us over to his friend Stewart’s place. We had met Stewart the last time we were in Stellies and he’s a really nice guy, very English and traditional. He lives with his roommates Grant, Mike, and Dirk (not present) in a beautiful flat outside of campus that costs $200 US to rent (this for a gated community that is like the apartments on the corner of Edgewood and Park, but 5 times nicer).
The guys are all really funny and all fellow hockey players. We chat and watch youtube videos of US and Yale and LED sheep art while they cook some burgers. Mike tells us of his current scheme growing rainbow trout in a friend’s lake so that he can sell them to local restaurants, carefully reciting all of the prices and numbers he’s memorized in preparing offers to said restaurants. We also hear of a drinking activity called the Strawpedo, essentially a much faster version of a beer funnel that sounds mesmerizing. They enjoy making fun of Mike for being from Bellville, which as we’ve always heard, is like the “white trash” part of Cape Town. So as we were driving in Pierre’s incredibly beat up car, we joked about pushing our seats all the way back and getting arm and leg extensions so we could drive Bellville Style. Pimp my Ride with X to the Z Xzibit, Cape Town edition.
Pierre convinces Stew to come out with us, so the four of us head to the Brazen Head- an Irish pub that we had watched the World Cup game at the last time we were in Stellies. During this car ride, Pierre also reminds me of a few things that I had forgotten had happened from my last night in Stellenbosch.
1) Dmitri coerced me into helping to pay for the weed by taking R60 out of my pocket. He really made an impression on these kids because they all remember that.
2) We got stopped at a roadblock on the way to bringing Dmitri back home. Both Pierre and I had definitely been drunk, and Dmitri was stoned out of his mind and shouting in the back seat, prompting me to yell “Everyone look as sober as possible and don’t talk” before Pierre reluctantly presents his license to the officer.
3) I met a kid named Storm
4) Dmitri decided to freestyle for the entire party and dropped a few bars about his time in Cape Town, including beauties like “Swam with a shark/ain’t no walk in the park”
Brazen is packed. Since US has just come back within the week, they have had their version of Camp Yale (which lasts throughout the semester) since Wednesday. As we wade through tons of US kids (or as I called it, the White Sea, not to be racist or anything), we find a little table and grab some beers. It’s at this time that I recognize someone in the next room- and it’s not a good thing. The guy who had been bothering everyone at Mr. Pickwick’s when we were watching the World Cup final on Long St. has magically appeared at the bar. My freaking out is drowned by the shouting and slamming of glasses on tables around me, but I try to avoid eye contact as much as possible for fear that he’s tried to dial the fake number I gave him at Mr. Pickwick’s.
We’re there for a bit, and then we decide to move on to Terrace. Terrace has undergone some renovations and now has a bit more space for people to stand. It also has lost its food license and subsequently its pizza oven because the oven was sort of in the middle of where people would be, causing pizzas to occasionally smell of Castle and have the tang of vomit. But Terrace is exactly like Toad’s, just a little nicer, but the same sort of place where your shoes get stuck to the floor, you try not to touch anything in the bathrooms, and the dance floor is open grounds for hookups and the occasional sexual act.
We had gone to Terrace with the intention of meeting up with our friends from the wine tour. And occasionally we ran into them- a really drunk Nick and a really drunk Chris both popped up at various parts of the night. Pierre introduces me to Terrace’s (and Stellenbosch’s) signature drink- Cane and Cream Soda, a green concoction made with cream soda and cane alcohol (which is supposedly illegal in the states) that is absolutely delicious. And I imagine has the same effects as grain punch.
I meet this girl who comes across the room and starts to dance with me. She looks sort of young but we start to introduce ourselves. I tell her my usual spiel about being an American college student and she hits me with this: “This is my first time sneaking out of my house”. WTF? Based on my knowledge of South African youth and the clubbing scene, that puts her at around 15. That’s younger than my sister
Pierre, Stew, Quynh and I are still hanging out. Pierre and Stew are definitely restraining themselves, but know a lot of people in the club. They soon introduce me to one of their female field hockey friends. We get to talking, and to say the least, I may have promised her my Yale hoodie and now she is programmed into my phone as Xtina. Her friend also comes along, and possibly inadvertently flashes Pierre as he tries to show her ways to get the bartender to serve more drinks later in the night. I also somehow end up dancing soekkie with her. I’m not sure how Afrikaner guys learn how to be so nimble, but it’s just not for me.
A note about Terrace’s bathrooms: they are disgusting. Any place that has a urine basin (quite a large basin at that) is pretty disgusting.
We leave for the night and go back to Pierre’s. Though he gives us the option of partying until 6 am at another club, we need to save our health.
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