Cincinnati: What have we learned?

I always like to process these experiences by trying to figure out what I have learned from them. With no further ado, here are my lessons from South Africa:

I. Personal Lessons

A. Listen to your body. It probably knows what you should or shouldn't be doing.

B. Push yourself. "If you know your limits, you will never surpass them." You're more likely to accomplish amazing things if you push yourself as far as you can go and beyond.

C. I'm awesome. Oh wait, I knew that one before this trip.

D. There is always another way--when one door closes, another opens.

E. If not, why not? (Also, if so, why so?)

F. Go with the flow. Most of the awesome things in my life have been the consequence of spur-of-the-moment decisions and a willingness to go off the beaten path.

II. Work Lessons

A. Dealing with management is an art. It requires a great amount of patience and social skill, but is essential to success in your career. Practice makes perfect, I hope?

B. That said, you have to ask for what you want. And if it's important enough to you, fight for it. No one is going to hand you success on a silver platter, and you have to find a balance between what your bosses want and what you want.

C. Let your work speak for itself.

III. Travel Lessons

A. The world is not as scary as you think it is (most of the time). Don't let fear or uncertainty stop you from traveling! (Unless that fear is substantiated by something like a civil war in the country you want to visit. Then don't go, stupid.)

B. Travelling is a surefire way to achieve self-growth. That doesn't mean you'll like it, but change is good for you. Challenge yourself.

C. Bad things happen, unfortunately. There is no advice that will keep you from being mugged, overcharged, losing your luggage, getting lost, etc., 100% of the time. Accept it and move on.

D. Common sense and intuition are great ways to avoid 90% of the bad things that happen to people in foreign countries. If you feel like you're in danger or that something isn't right, get out of there. It could be nothing, but you also could have just prevented catastrophe. Nothing is more important than your own well-being--is that something worth gambling with? Here are some other tips in the same vein:

      1. Safety is a state of mind. Always be aware of your surroundings and where you're going.

      2. If you're lost, don't act like it. Walk with purpose--standing around looking confused is a great way to get herded somewhere you don't want to go, where you may be mugged or worse.

      3. Don't be afraid to be rude. People are obsessed with politeness these days, and I'm not saying it's not appropriate most of the time. But if someone is following you, harassing you or pressuring you, tell them to fuck off. Sometimes, you have to be a jerk to get people to leave you alone.

      4. DO NOT EVER get into an unmarked cab. Anywhere. Period.

       5. Try not to carry your passport on you if you can avoid it. Most things are replaceable, but it's a HUGE hassle to get around without a passport in a foreign country.

E. Packing: This list has everything essential for international travel.
    1. Wallet (credit cards, money, ID)
    2. Passport!!!
    3. Phone

Other than that, just throw shit in a bag and it will work out. Trust me.

Well guys, this is the end. With over 2000 views and 50 posts, the past year has been amazing. As far as I know, I'm not going abroad again anytime soon, but if I do, anyone following this blog will know. Thank you for all the amazing support!!! I hope to see you on my next adventure...

Cape Town: You can't come back unless you go away

I woke up this morning to Nina flipping the on lights in our room and saying: "Lynne, get up! We have to be out of here by 12:30 because they booked more people for these rooms!"

This was at 11:00 am.

Apparently, Daddy Long Legs booked the apartments for tonight and didn't tell us that we had a specific checkout time after we lived there for two and a half months. Because I only brought one bag besides my backpack, and it could actually be a carry-on bag if I weighed less, I was OK. I just pack light, and I had already packed most of my stuff. But the next hour and a half was a frenzy of us trying to get ourselves in order before leaving the country. We don't fly out until 11:30 pm.

After our ungracious exit from the apartments, we put our luggage in a room at the main hotel down the road and headed out to while away the next 11 hours before our flight left. Lauren had been wanting to go to the Bo-Kaap, a traditionally Muslim neighborhood, and I knew how to get there, so we headed up that way. We came upon the Wale Rose restaurant, which was having a buffet special, so we headed in for lunch.

We got to sit on the roof, which has a beautiful view of Table Mountain and Lionshead, as well as the colorful houses of Bo-Kaap (something it's famous for). The food was amazing--the buffet included the best mutton (lamb) curry I've ever had and some awesome biryani, which as far as I can tell is rice, lentils sauteed onions with some other stuff.

Anyway, it was just a lovely way to spend part of the day, especially after the rude awakening of the morning. We took our time and ate way too much food. To top it all off, there was a parade through the street the restaurant was on. We still don't know what it was for, but people were dressed in green, white and red as well as really sparkly clothes, and there was a marching band. All in all, a great way to spend the last day here--exploring a new neighborhood and getting awesome food.

I can't believe we're leaving today. I'm excited to go home, especially given the last two weeks, but as the novelist Anatole France said, "All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." 


There is something gained from every place we visit and person we meet, even if it's an unpleasant lesson or realization. And I have actually enjoyed most of my time here--Cape Town is an amazing city, and I can't wait to visit again someday. I've met some wonderful people and learned important lessons. 


This will be my last blog post in South Africa, but stay tuned for one or two more once I get stateside. For closure and all that, you know. 


I'm excited to get home. But I am also sad to leave. 

Cape Town: I'm going off to find myself. If I'm not back before I return, keep me here

So this week sucked.

I have never had this much anxiety. The bright side of all this is that I have been forced to confront the nature of my anxiety. The built-up stress from work, school and living abroad, the death of my beloved grandparents last December and anxiety about my future are probably all big factors.

What I've learned at the Cape Times is that I never want to work at an actual newspaper. This may not seem that shattering to most people, but that's what I went to school thinking I wanted to do, so this is a rude awakening for me. Luckily, journalism is a flexible degree, and paired with my international studies major I am sure I will be able to find something. I think I was also worried that my parents would be disappointed that they sent me to journalism school to study newspaper/online and I don't ever, ever want to work at a newspaper. Ever.

All I want to do is write. Both fiction and non-fiction. A lot of the skills I've learned in journalism school have really helped me towards that ambition and given me other marketable skills I wouldn't have gotten from a degree in English or Creative Writing. I am great at tracking people down; I can write well and think critically about information and where it's coming from. I know how to find a place to start on difficult projects and take constructive criticism on my work. And I have gotten a lot better at writing and learning from the things I read; authors I like and don't like, and the things I like and don't like about them so I can avoid or incorporate those things into my own work. I can also create a marketable product; I know how to define and target a specific audience and make content interesting to them. I can even work with others...if I have to.

Not that I'm trying to write a cover letter for life here. Part of this blog is just hashing out what I've been thinking about this week. But I do know that I can find work somewhere else, and that I will put my college education to good use.

I've also gotten back in touch with my creative writing this week, with many thanks to Vivian for her encouragement. Given that she teaches writing as a tool for healing and coaches people on novels, she's pretty well-qualified to push me on defining my own writing. I did miss it; writing is a lot of work and requires a lot of discipline, but I find it fulfilling.

So I'm feeling hopeful about the future. The anxiety has not subsided yet, but I have confidence that once I get back stateside and get to relax for a few months, it will. My English Bulldog Silvestre, aka the Love of My Life, tends to make me happy no matter what, so I'm excited to get back to him. And my family, I guess.

I'm also planning on going out to Kansas City to visit one Abigail Dennis, which will be great, and will give me a chance to apologize to Rhonda Dennis in person for Skyping her drunk and half-naked. Sorry Rhonda, and I appreciate the hug you sent. Somehow, I feel like this post is not reassuring you of my stability.

Yeah thanks to everyone, especially my parents, who actually got a call from my professor about this and were actually really worried. Sorry about that. I love you.

Finally, sorry for writing my goddamn memoir right here. I just have a lot of feelings, OK? I fly out of Cape Town on Sunday, so this may be my last post in SA...time flies when you're reevaluating your life.

Cape Town: Exhaustion

So this week, I went to work on Sunday and Monday and then got bulldozed by an intense panic attack. I ended up having to take the rest of the week off.

FUCK FUCK FUCK MY BRAIN IS CRYING

People always ask me what sets off these attacks when I have them, and I have no idea. That is part of why anxiety is so difficult to treat; it's different for everyone and often the cause is not immediately apparent. Work has been very stressful, so I think that's a big part of it.

"Flames. Flames on the side of my face...heaving...heaving breaths..."

My father also pointed out that I haven't taken a break in a long time, and I realized that I've been in motion for about the past two years. The longest break I've had in that period was the three weeks between Uganda and my junior year of college. I also only just realized how harrowing Uganda was. I was in danger a lot of the time and was constantly on alert, which you have to be when you're in a place like that. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the most beneficial thing to my nerves and general well-being. I don't regret going there, but I don't think that I've actually recovered from it yet. To those of you who were reading this blog during that period of my life (Uganda), I think you were aware of the stresses I was under way before I was, in terms of the stuff I was dealing with there.

Anyway, I think my body just reached a point of shutting down. Luckily, I leave a week from Sunday and I'm going home for three months, where I will sleep, write and watch bad TV and nothing interesting will happen and it will be great.

This is all I want.

I also went to a meditative center today that was recommended by the lovely Vivian Warby, who is our person here in Cape Town that takes care of us. She also gave me a lift home from the center, which is kind of far away, and it was great spending time with her. I am feeling a lot better after today. Thanks to Vivian, Katherine, Paula, Doug and my roommates for putting up with me and supporting me during this stuff.

Sorry about posting all about me! But I wanted to let you guys know that this is happening, and hey, I've told you guys about all the places I've thrown up on the African continent and made an ass out of myself over the last year. I figured if you were interested in that, you would want to read about this.

Cape Town: CLIIIIIIMB EVVVVVVVV'RY MOUNTAAAAAAIN

Before I get into the meat of this post, I just want to say that one of our reporters at the Cape Times was stabbed over the weekend. Gang violence is getting worse here and it's becoming increasingly apparent that when reporters are involved, the police are unlikely to intervene. Please keep him in your thoughts, as well as the Cape Argus reporters who were recently robbed at gunpoint.

On a more cheerful note, this weekend, four of the Northwestern interns from Johannesburg came to visit us and do various things in Cape Town. They stayed with us and we finagled the room in our apartments for them to sleep. (Dan is still living with us, so basically everyone in the world was staying in our apartments, especially the one across the hall.) Abby, Lauren and two of the Joburgers jumped out of a perfectly good plane on Saturday after three of the Joburg kids had spent the previous day getting drunk out in wine country.

But none of that's important, and you know why? You know what I did this weekend? I climbed Table Mountain. I climbed THIS:

"Dear Diary, mountains are high as fuck."

I climbed with Anna, another of the Joburg kids, up through Platteklip Gorge. It made Lionshead look like a hill. I felt bad because I had to keep stopping--Anna is a triathlete, and I am not that. I'm not even out of shape, because I've never been in shape. It was very, very steep though, and eventually we got high enough that the altitude took a toll on both of us.

It was a cloudy day, and there were clouds settled on the mountain, making it only possible to see for short distances most of the way. It was incredibly cool--as Anna said, it was like being in a movie. It made the whole mountain look primordial and wild, and it helped that almost no one else was stupid enough to hike that day due to the cold, the wet and the cloud cover. It was quiet on the path--there were parts where all you could hear was the trickling water and your own breathing. The rock was full of small waterfalls, as was the path, and the green, bushy fynbos grew all the way up the mountain. (Fynbos is the native fauna of the Western Cape; it grows low to the ground and much of the plants have beautiful flowers.)

Anna was the perfect companion because of her positivity and her interest in the formation of the mountains and the plants. Finally, someone appreciates everything I learned from Danny last weekend...no, seriously though, I don't actually know anything about the natural wonders of the land here. We're both interested in it and appreciate it, and it was nice to have someone to wander in nature with who wondered at it as much as I did.

I thought I was going to die due to the toughness of the hike, but when we made it to the top, it was amazing. It was a beautiful view--Cape Town is on one side, and the sea is on the other. I also felt invincible, and I'm always going to remember that hike when things get tough (or seem tough) in my life.

Cape Town: Jackwagon

It's been a long week, kids. On the bright side, I got a piece published about a cyclist who is riding his bike from Grahamstown, South Africa all the way over here to Cape Town. That's more than 11 hours driving (if you didn't stop anywhere). He's doing it to raise money for the grandson of his childhood domestic worker. The grandson, Dumela, just lost his mother to illness, and his father is irrelevant in his life. He is now in the care of his grandmother and aunt. Sesiwe, Dumela's grandmother and the domestic worker who essentially raised this cyclist, asked him to help her grandson--they are a poor family. So he's taking this bike trip to make sure all the funds necessary for Dumela's education are taken care of. It's a sweet story, because it's clear that he really considers Sesiwe as family. She still works for his parents (she's now in her 60s) and has been with them since he was a baby. He was telling me about how he rode around on her back before he could walk.

Anyway, here's a link to the story: http://www.iol.co.za/capetimes/cyclist-hits-road-for-orphan-1.1301874
And here is Gunther's (the cyclist's) blog: http://gunthermarx.blogspot.com/

Moving on, I spent yesterday writing about a flower show (woo hoo! Plants and shit!) and today about some almost-smuggled snakes and geckos. So yeah, chugging along over here.

If anyone follows South African news, you'll know about the Zuma painting that has recently raised so much controversy lately. If not, here's the story: a white satirical artist, who was notoriously anti-apartheid back in the 1980s and early 1990s, painted a picture of Zuma in the same pose as Lenin in a notorious propaganda poster. The kicker is that Zuma was, essentially, rocking out with his cock out in this painting.

"Well, Ingrid, I think that the shading highlights the conflict between the abstract and reality...good God, is that a penis?!"

This painting was not very well-known until Zuma decided to bring the gallery to court for displaying this, after they refused his request to take it down. His case is that this painting "violates his constitutional right to dignity." 

There is no constitutional basis for his claim. He's just angry that someone was so disrespectful towards him, or whatever you want to call this painting. The African National Congress (ANC) is also furious; many officials have said that it should be burned, but who writes the checks that buy their seaside villas? Zuma does. 

This is a clear case of censorship--the painter is exercising freedom of expression, and the painting is not hurting anyone. This artist has also been painting things like this for years. Based on what I know about his work, he likes to use sexual imagery to represent power and patriarchy, and Zuma is...well, he hasn't exactly been a white knight to SA in terms of the way he's used his power. Of course, the ANC has also pulled out the "DAT'S RACIST" card, as it often does. If it can't be legally removed, it's labeled as racist or in line with old apartheid policies. The funny thing is that there is a black artist who also painted a picture of Zuma with genitalia, and nobody said anything about that. 

Anyway, the big news here is that yesterday, two men defaced the painting as it hung in the gallery. We watched in horror on our TV in the newsroom as it was painted on. E News, the main news channel other than the public station, SABC, happened to be there for another story (I still think they were tipped off--that's too much of a coincidence, and it was hugely sensational footage) and caught it all on film. The first man painted red Xs over Zuma's face and penis, and the other man dipped his hands in black oil paint and just smeared the whole canvas. This is what it looks like now: 

The security guard, of course, didn't arrive until the painting was already ruined (again, suspicious. This whole thing looked staged to me.) The case is still going to court, presumably because there are still millions of pictures of this painting online.

I just found this to be an incredibly interesting example of political dynamics here. But it does make me worry that when the day comes that another party can compete with the ANC on a national level, that the ANC won't let power go. It seems that it's only a democracy as long as everyone votes ANC. 

Garden Route: And then we never saw her again.

So, I spent the last three days with my fellow interns driving part of the Garden Route, which is a long stretch of South Africa that starts in the Western Cape and goes through into the Eastern Cape and Kwa-Zulu Natal, two other provinces. We started out from Cape Town and stayed in a town called Oudtshoorn on Friday night and stayed in another town called Sedgfield on Saturday, then came back today. Here's a map:

We actually made it all the way out to Tsitsikamma National Park and also stopped in Plettenberg Bay.

On Friday, we headed out at about 8:30 with our rental car (Avis gave us a white VW Polo, because for some reason they trust a bunch of 20/21-year-olds with nice cars. Weird.) We made it out to Oudtshoorn and stopped in at our hostel by 2 pm, then hit up the Cango Wildlife Ranch.

We had to go through a guided tour of the ranch, which includes cheetahs, lions, tigers, antelopes, snakes and crocodiles. It's essentially about conservation, because a lot of the exotic animals (like tigers) are in danger of going extinct because of habitat destruction and poaching. Public Service Announcement: Help these animals! At least don't hunt them. Or burn the forests where they live.

Anyway, the real point is, WE GOT TO PET SOME WHITE TIGER CUBS. We paid extra for that, but how can you pass up that opportunity? They weren't as thrilled with us as we were with them, but they allowed us into their enclosure and sat down for a while to let us pat them. THEY WERE ADORABLE. For everyone who knows how much I love baby animals, you can understand how excited I was about this.

The others petted the cheetahs, but I had something else in mind: giant snakes. I got to hold a roughly 100-pound albino python named J.J. and I was so happy. He didn't even feel alive; he just felt like a heavy plastic weight over my shoulders. He tried to wrap his tail around my neck once (for perspective on how big he was, I could barely put both hands around him) and I was like, "J.J. stop trying to kill me." He also wrapped his tail around my leg as I was leaving, and he is strong, so it took me a minute to shake him off.

After our animal encounters, we got dinner at an incredibly Afrikaaner restaurant--Oudtshoorn, from what I can tell, is an Afrikaaner stronghold--and headed back to our hostel, Karoo Soul. It was the nicest hostel I've ever been in, and I kind of wish I could live there.

We headed out early on Saturday morning, because we needed to get out to Tsitsikamma National Park because Abby, Lauren and Nina had planned to bungy jump off of the world's highest bungy bridge, which is out there. Zach decided he wanted to go ziplining in the Tsitsikamma Forest, which left me with nothing to do. I checked out the Park's information center and found a brochure for a hiking guide named Danny. I called him up and asked if he was doing anything that day, and he was like,

"I didn't have anything planned for today, but we can go hiking! I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

While it may seem like a terrible idea to go off into the woods alone with a man you've never met, I did it anyway, because I am the master of doing potentially dangerous things. As it turned out, Danny is a really nice guy. He's actually Swiss but met his wife in South Africa and moved down here for her about 12 years ago. He became a tour guide because his European education didn't apply here, so he had to find a job he was qualified for. And damn, does that guy know about trees. I learned so much about trees in two and half hours, you guys don't even know. Ironwoods, yellow woods, Black Witch Hazel...I also learned about the soil and sediment of South Africa, i.e. why plants grow the way they do. The second part of our hike was on the old National Road built in the 1800s, which is now just a dirt road. Danny told me about the elephants that had found their way around the gorges before humans--all herds of elephants in the area migrated the same path for thousands of years, which is how humans were able to navigate Tsitsikamma. It was a really fun hike and I learned a lot. When my friends came to get me, they told me that when they had left me at the Info Center for Danny to pick me up, they were like, "And we never saw her again." Thanks guys. I love you too.

We headed back through Plettenberg Bay and to the Afrovibe hostel, which is basically the best party hostel in South Africa. There were shenanigans, but for once, I wasn't involved. I went to bed early because I was tired. Today, we headed back through Cape Agulhas, which is the southernmost point on the African continent. So now I've actually been to the southernmost tip of Africa! Woo hoo! It was a beautiful drive through the backroads of SA--there's so much open land, but it's also really mountainous. It's just a beautiful, beautiful country.

The road trip was amazing, all in all. Not just the cool stuff I did at Cango and Tsitsikamma, but just roadtripping around SA with my friends was really fun. Thanks guys (especially Abby, who did most of the planning)!

Cape Town: And then, on the seventh day, God made metaphors

This week was rough. It was my midterm evaluation and just a long week in general. There's not a whole lot to speak of on the journalism front, in terms of interesting things.

Yesterday (Friday) we walked down to the Waterfront with Dan, which is one of the more touristy areas of Cape Town and is where a lot of the classy boats and seafood shops are located. It was a long but nice walk and just perching on the dock and eating ice cream, we saw multiple seals and some jellyfish in the water.

In the late afternoon, we committed to climbing Lionshead, which is one of the main peaks in the Table Mountain chain. Five minutes in, we were already tired, but as I said, we were committed, and kept going. I pushed forward at the head of the pack, less from fitness or determination than an unwillingness to let anything or anyone stop me from getting what I want (barring malaria, my father and any math that involves anything more difficult than division). This may seem like a good quality, but when your adversary is a million-year old mountain, it's a stupid way to look at your life.

When I say "climb" I mean that there is actual rock-climbing involved in this ascent. The first stage is just walking uphill, but eventually you do reach rocks that you have to climb up. The way can be treacherous if you're an asshole who has no real rock-climbing experience, like me, but I still led the way, puzzling out difficult stretches of rock and hoisting myself up. At some point, we reached a fork in the path with a sign that said, "You can either walk this way up or you can actually climb, but if you die, it isn't our fault." Naturally, I looked at the metal rungs and chains embedded in the rock on the climbing way up and was like, "I'm doing that." The others took a look and disapproved of my plan. I went anyway.

It was really fun, but it was somewhat dangerous. I essentially pulled myself up a sheer rock wall by some metal climbing aids and by being able to find footholds/handholds. I made it up and a while later the others decided to follow after watching me. Soldiering on alone, I climbed the rest of the way up and made it to the top just as the sun was setting. I perched on an outcropping and watched it sink below the sea.

Not that I want to get too poetic here, but  it was definitely one of those moments of peace that you don't find often in life. I was sweaty and exhausted, and I had almost thrown up a couple of times on the way up from pushing myself so hard, but I made it to the top of Lionshead all by myself, and the views of the ocean and the city were beautiful. I feel like it was a metaphor for my internship--I climbed Lionshead, so I can climb the proverbial mountain of this job. Or whatever. Something like that.

The other three (Zach did not come to Lionshead with us) made it up a few minutes after me and were not pleased with the difficulty of the climb. We started down soon after that because it was getting dark. Abby and I ended up ahead of Lauren and Nina because Lauren wanted to take the easier way down the mountain due to her perfectly legitimate fear of slipping and falling in the dark. The two of us hauled ourselves down the mountain and actually had a really good time getting down, talking and making friends with a man from Salt Lake City. Eventually we got back home to Daddy Long Legs, and I was entirely satisfied with my day.

Today we went with Dan out to Bellville, which is a 45-minute train ride out of the city, and had a braai with his friend Jade. A braai is like a barbeque on steroids. You have tons of different meats, mainly braewors (South African equivalent of bratwurst), chicken and beef. It was delicious and we got to play with Jade's dogs! They are both pitbull mixes; Tequila is older and is one of the most well-behaved dogs I've ever seen and Pancho is a hyperactive puppy. All in all, it was a nice day, especially since it's so rare for us to get a complete home-cooked meal here. Now I'm chilling at home...I need a night off.

Cape Town: Heavy Days with Dan the Bartender (feat. Stephan)

So work aside, we've met some pretty cool people over here in Cape Town. We've also met some pretty not cool people who follow us around and ask for money, but we don't spend much time with them, so whatever. Except for this one homeless guy that grabbed Abby's face with both hands when he was asking for money; luckily for her, there was a valiant backpacker on hand who shoved the guy while screaming, "NO!!!" Just part of living in Cape Town when you walk everywhere.

Dan is the bartender at Zach's favorite bar who we met last Wednesday on Zach's birthday. Abby picked him up after paying for drinks and he's sort of moved in with us since then. He's been sleeping on the couch in the other apartment (our little building is basically two apartments across the hall from each other, so all five of us essentially live together). Anyway, I walked in on Saturday morning after he'd stayed with us a few times, not expecting to see him, and there he was on the couch. I did one of these:

back to my side of the floor.

But yeah, he's pretty cool. After I ran away from him like a crazy person, Abby told him I was afraid of him and he said, "Heavy days." which I guess means "That sucks." He's also an underwear model, fun fact.

On a related note, people in South Africa definitely have different ways of saying things in English, and it's taken me a while to figure out what some expressions mean. First of all, to greet someone, you say, "How's it?" And the equivalent of "Oh really?" as a response to anything is, "Is it?" When you want to get someone's attention, you say, "sorry." And at the office, whenever anything goes wrong, people often say "Shitballs!" My personal favorite is the word for "pickup truck", which is "bucky". Some guy will just say, "My bucky got towed the other day" and I can't take it seriously. Say it. It sounds hilarious. 

Last but not least, Zach's dating this guy named Stephan, who took him cable surfing yesterday, which I guess is surfing  on a cable track? Anyway, Zach stays over with him a lot, and Stephan's supposed to take him to his game farm soon (like a game reserve, with rhinos and stuff). Stephan's a pretty together human being, so I approve of this relationship. 

Anyway, that's just a little slice of life from Cape Town. Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo, as I'm sure you guys know, and I ended up face down on our futon full of tequila and regret. Other than that, life's good. 

Cape Town: A Very Boring Post

Well everybody, I'm more than halfway done with my journalism residency. I fly back to the US a month from Thursday. Crazy stuff.

This past week was work, work, work. I had stories run on three out of five days that I was working though, which was fantastic. The Ultimate Frisbee story ran on Monday, and I did a story on rising petrol prices that required a lot of math. And I was very proud of the end result--it ran with five pictures and a graph on page 3!! I even got a condescending email from a reader who was unhappy with it, so that means people are reading my work! I'll take what I can get.

Zach's birthday was on Wednesday and we celebrated that at his favorite bar in Cape Town. No impressive shenanigans ensued, so sorry for the lack of funny stories. Happy 21st Zach!

The last story I did this week was on a restaurant called The Test Kitchen that just won a spot on the list of 100 Best Restaurants in the world, so that was a cool little story. It's a very experimental kitchen--the owner is opening up a new premises that is just a lab for him to experiment with food--and I want to go eat at the restaurant before I leave.

More or less, that's it--not a whole lot to report (no pun intended). Just a lot of story-writing and hanging out with my fellow interns. Sorry that my life was so boring, doesn't make for a very good blog post...

Cape Town: Cash Money

OK, so about that last post. After some reflection, and my father calling me to tell me that I should stop being such a whiny little bitch, I have edited it down.

Anyway, over the weekend, it was just me and Zach, because Lauren, Abby, and Nina went on safari. We went to the Castle of Good Hope, which is the oldest building in South Africa. It was built by the Dutch East India Company in the late 1600s because on long voyages between Europe and Asia, ships needed a place to refuel, nurse the sick and drop off their dead. Obviously, the Cape evolved into a much more important area, but it was originally settled by the Dutch for this purpose.

We went into the dungeons where they used to torture prisoners in order to get them to confess their guilt, because apparently in those days, it was thought that you had to force "criminals" to admit their guilt before going forward with their punishment. They would chain people up and lash them with the cat o'nine tails or hang them upside down and whip them, then drop them to the floor, which was often fatal. So, you know, good times were had in the Castle of Good Hope. They did have some interesting military memorabilia and we got to see them fire off a cannon built in 1770.

Other than that, it was a pretty uneventful weekend. I went back to work today, still without Abby, and reported on the Ultimate Frisbee National Championships. The people there were great--really, a nice group of people. But because I am unable to dress appropriately for any kind of weather ever (seriously, ask my parents, this has always been a problem) I was really cold in in my short-sleeved sweater and I also hadn't eaten all day. So I was ready to go, and when my photographer suddenly pulled into a gas station and was like, "Is it OK if we take a ten-minute lunch break?" I was like, "If by 'OK' you mean 'the best idea ever' then YES." So I got to eat hot samosas in the car and I was happy. And he and I were messy-eater bros, so I was like, "Finally, someone who won't judge me when I inevitably get food all over myself!"

The story got written and hopefully it will run tomorrow. Other than that, I'll just keep on keepin' on. Also, my father has never actually called me a whiny little bitch. For the record.

Cape Town: If I die here, tell them my story. It's not a very good story.

So unfortunately, as a journalist, I have to talk about journalism sometimes. Which is unfortunate, because I find 95 percent of discussions about journalism to be mind-numbingly boring. (This is why I could never teach.)

But journalism is a tricky business. You're taking your creative work, which has been created after a lot of effort and research, and giving it to somebody who needs it to make money. What could go wrong? It's hard to take criticism on something so personal, even when it's given in a constructive and not-bitchy way. Just a hard part of my job.

Moving on, I had a story run today, which was exciting. Yesterday was World Book Day and I got to go to a library and watch a bunch of adorable second graders as some librarians read them books. Those kids loved Dr. Seuss. I approved of them as soon as they could read Green Eggs and Ham along with the librarian. The story got a nice spread on Page 4 of the Paper today, which was exciting for me. There were actually books read in three languages: English, Afrikaans and isiXhosa.

Segway time! Africa's eleven official languages are:
English
Afrikaans
isiXhosa
isiZulu
Sepedi
Sesotho
Setswana
siSwati
Tshivenda
Xitsonga
isiNdebele

The most commonly spoken ones on a national level, as far as I can tell, are English and Zulu. People in both Johannesburg and Cape Town can universally speak at least a little English. Here in the Western Cape, isiXhosa, English, and Afrikaans are the most common. Afrikaans is kind of like French, if French people had carried out the crime against humanity that was apartheid: Afrikaans people refuse to take that step down to speaking English if they can help it, because Afrikaans is better than English. Call it a generalization, but it's kind of true. Afrikaans was also the language of the institution that was responsible for that whole apartheid thing and stuff. Anyway, just an interesting part of South African culture.

OK, one last thing for this disjointed post. The building which houses the Cape Times is under construction and has been since I got here, so Abby, Lauren and I (the Cape Argus, where Lauren works, shares our offices) live in a constant hell of jackhammers, dust that coats your mouth and throat and now paint fumes. By "construction" I mean that every floor except the fourth and fifth floors is having everything torn out and redone. We're surrounded by madness. Today, there was a really strong paint smell in the whole floor, especially on the Cape Times side of the office. They turned off the A/C so they could figure out why exactly paint fumes were circulating through the office. That is (probably) why I have felt sick for the second half of today. But yeah, it's definitely a drawback of working at the Cape Times right now. So if I die, you'll know why. Just saying.

Cape Town: Suddenly, Baboons

So today is Sunday, and I thought I would have nothing to do because Sundays are usually slow news days. WRONG. I was sent out at about noon to go and find surfers. If you haven't seen it in the news, a surfer got attacked by a Great White off of the Western Cape. His leg was severed and he died almost instantly. The story has been picked up by news outlets around the world, I guess because if it bleeds, it leads. Also, sharks are always news. Anyway, I was sent to the beach where this man was killed. I was supposed to interview surfers about how they felt surfing after such a grisly shark attack, etc. for a sidebar to go with a main shark story. Lo and behold, there is no one surfing at the beach (I was surprised too.) I was with Courtney the photographer, who I've worked with before. It would have been cool if he had not been making comments about how good I would look in a bikini during THE WHOLE AFTERNOON.

 We hung out on the beach for a bit while Courtney took some pictures of the ocean and stuff. I guess. Then, when we headed back to our car, there were baboons. Out of nowhere. I don't know if anyone reading this has ever encountered a baboon. They are nasty animals. Some people are like, "Oh, they're cute, look they have babies!" And I'm like, "How is an animal that has an ass that looks like a tumor made of bubblegum cute? Also, that attacks humans? IT'S NOT, YOU STUPID IDIOT."

Anyway, there were 20-30 baboons around our car, so I tiptoed over after getting the keys from Courtney and got in the car. He took a few pictures and then got in the car. And as we were driving away, they were coming out of the woodwork! From all directions! I thought we were going to have our car dismantled by baboons. And also our faces.

 I actually managed to get the sidebar written based on an interview I had with a guy at a surf shop after the Afternoon of the Baboons, even though I had to stay late for it.

That's pretty much it. Not a whole lot of events happened over the weekend. We got a visit from our lovely Joburg friends, Kathryn and Yoonj and I took my first tequila shot with Yoonj. I had no idea what I was doing with the salt and the lime, so I just watched her and copied everything she did. Because Yoonj is a party ninja (that is a compliment). We also went to the Old Biscuit Mill, which is an amazing market full of all kinds of fresh food! I recommend it to everyone who visits Cape Town. Peace out.

Cape Town: "I kissed a man for Nutella cake"

As most of you know by now from Facebook, my birthday was on Monday. I'm 21! Now I can drink in the U.S. Is there anything else I can do now? If so, I can't think of it.

Rewind to Sunday though. That day, I had to shadow another reporter while he went out to check on a body of water that is used for fishing and suddenly is polluted. There were dead fish everywhere and the whole place smelled like sewage. Something is taking the oxygen out of that water, because the fish were struggling to breathe. There are also eels in that water--little snake-like things. It was sad to see all the dead fish and to see people from the neighborhood gathering at the water's edge. People were angry, and a lot of local fisherman had taken the day off from fishing to save the fish that were still alive and take them out of that water. Hopefully, the government will do something soon, but I wouldn't hold my breath.

Then, on my birthday, Abby and I were sent out to go with a reporter and photographer who were following up on some rhinos. The rhinos, Higgins and Lady, had been poached four months earlier and both of their horns were taken. The rangers had managed to save them, but they were both really traumatized (as they should be, I mean really). They are the only rhinos in South Africa to survive being poached in the last year. Higgins and Lady were attacked by the poachers in different areas, so they were separated for three weeks because Higgins was blind after the attack. He was tranquilized facing east early in the morning, so by the time the ranger found him, he'd been looking into the sun for two and half hours. He tried to use the fence where he was to find his way around, but there isn't grass up there, and he would just lie down and give up. Bit by bit, the rangers used food to lure him down to where Lady was. When they were reunited, the ranger said "It was beautiful. It was almost like they were kissing."

The reason people are poaching rhinos is because a lot of Asian doctors are now saying that rhino horn is an aphrodisiac and that it can cure cancer. It can't. Rhino horn is made of keratin, so eating it is like chewing your own nails. But one kilo of rhino horn goes for 65,000 US dollars, and most rhino horns are a full 8 to 9 kilos. Do the math--it's an attractive proposition, isn't it? But these animals are beautiful and they didn't ask for this.

The moral of the story is: don't poach rhinos. Or I will find you.

That story was a great one to do one my birthday though, because I got to drive through beautiful South African mountains (it was an hour and a half from the office both ways) on a beautiful day. Everyone should come here and drive through the Western Cape; it's beautiful and ancient and just mind-blowing. We also got to drive around in a tank-like vehicle that was used in South Africa's conflict with Angola. As the ranger who took us around the reserve said, "I drive where I like."

After work, we headed out to this restaurant called Ocean Baskets, because we heard it had really good seafood, and it did. I have had so much calamari since I got to South Africa. Then we headed to the other Irish pub (besides O'Driscoll's) in Cape Town, The Dubliner.

I got a pint of Carling Black Label, which is more or less my beer of choice, and for some reason I went from 1 to drunk in like, 20 minutes. I'm a lightweight, but even I can handle two drinks (I'd had a bottle of cider at Ocean Baskets). So I'm sitting dead drunk in Dubliner (with my friends who had their eye on me) and who should walk in but Gabe, the singer we met at O'Driscoll's the previous Wednesday. Apparently he does the Dubliner on Mondays. He saw us and came over, and he was quickly informed that it was my birthday and that I was wasted. At some point after this, Lauren and Zach brought me a cake that they had made, since Dubliner is half a block from our apartment. They know I don't like cake but I love Nutella, so they had frosted it with Nutella about an inch thick. One of the Dubliner's staff came up and told us we couldn't eat the cake in the bar for some reason. Gabe caught wind of this and then negotiated with the bar to let me have my birthday cake, eventually settling on the agreement that if I kissed someone, I could have the cake. Of course, he volunteered himself, which is actually OK given that he tends to keep an eye on us (by "us" I mean me and my fellow interns, making sure we don't get too drunk and do things we regret) and he's generally a respectable guy.

Given my drunkenness and my love for Nutella, I agreed to this and walked up and kissed Gabe in front of the whole bar.

That cake was fuckin' delicious. Happy birthday to me.

Cape Town: I Am a Seaman

Today was a day filled with wonder and beauty. Also, with me throwing fruit at Abby and generally being unfit for society, but what else is new?

We rented a car, a blue Honda Jazz, and headed down the coast to Cape Point. Cape Point is essentially the Cape of Good Hope, which is where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet. It's also the southwestern most point on the African continent, which is not as cool as being the southernmost point of the continent, but you have to take what you can get.

It's impossible to describe how beautiful the drive down there was. We're in pretty mountainous country, and the mountains are red and rugged. We usually had the mountains on one side and the sea on the other, so just imagine a panorama of beautiful mountains and ocean, as well as the city of Cape Town below. It was also just fun to go on a long drive with my Cape Town bros. (Abby drove, for the record).

When we got to Cape Point, we walked up a mountain in the rain to get to the lighthouse at the top. It was actually a nice temperature though, and I didn't mind the rainy weather. I just kept thinking about all the sailors that had been through these waters and the people that had been there to receive them (which was not always good for both parties). The view from the lighthouse was the open ocean on one side and the mountains on the other. Abby and I were both taken with the maritime history that the place had and declared that we would have been good sailors. I have an obsession with the ocean and sailing, so I didn't want to leave.

After we had finished with Cape Point, we headed to Simon's Town, a touristy coastal town. We got lunch (I have had only calamari, shrimp, and burgers since getting to South Africa, because the seafood is SO GOOD and the burgers are my fallback) and ice cream and then went to see some penguins.

There are penguins in South Africa, which I didn't know until two days ago. They are African penguins, and this is what they look like:

http://www.adelie.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/PhotoIndex/SPH_PICS.htm

We got to see them up close and went onto the beach with them. I chased one around because their walk is so funny, and eventually the others chased a few because we are all terrible people who like scaring animals. Their beach is on the Indian Ocean, so I've now touched that ocean. I just need to go to the Pacific to complete my tour of the major oceans.

Afterwards, we headed back to Cape Town, stopping at Signal Hill, which overlooks the city. It's a beautiful view from up there, but everything in Cape Town is beautiful, so no surprises there. Now we're back home, and Abby and I have work tomorrow. Back to journalism...

Cape Town: Time Warp

This week, reporting-wise, was pretty boring. Only Monday and today did I actually write anything or go out and report. However, life-wise, it was interesting.

Today I got into the office and Mlungsi shoved a piece of paper into my hands; something about a football/soccer practice. Then we were in the car and headed out to Stellenbosch, which is basically Western Cape wine country. After about an hour, we parked at a soccer stadium and hopped out.

I found out once I was out of the car that this was South Africa's national team, Banyana Banyana, and they are the first women's soccer team in South Africa to qualify for the Olympics. They're currently preparing for the London Olympics, which start in July. I know who I'm rooting for when those come around.

They were a really nice bunch of women, though I'm pretty sure that any one could have beat me to a pulp if they'd been upset with me. Me and Mlungsi, also a neophyte reporter, got everything we needed between the two of us and went back to the office, and eventually ended up with an acceptable story. Sybrand, our editor, is really tough but only because he cares about the craft and he wants us to be better at it. He can be really intimidating, but as we get used to each other, I think he's a good guy.

The interesting part was last night after work, when we headed to O'Driscolls after work (yes, there are Irish pubs in South Africa). We got there at 5pm. We left at 10pm. Hypothetically, I may have sung Time Warp from the Rocky Horror Picture show with the bar singer and I definitely sang Don't Stop Believin' (everybody loves Journey, OK). And there was this middle-aged man that wouldn't leave me alone and kept telling me that my eyes were like "black ocean pools" (I have brown eyes, for the record). He gave me a book called "Demonized" and I was like "...thanks?" Luckily, Zach and Abby flanked me pretty much the whole night, so it was fine. We also made a new friend named Gabby, who is actually a really nice, legitimate person.

It was a weird night, all in all. Especially for a Wednesday, but that's Cape Town for you. It's always a party here. Anyway, I am done with work for the week!

Cape Town: How do I journalism?

If anyone's wondering why I haven't posted in a few days, which I'm sure you are, since this blog is the only reason you get up the morning, it's because I didn't do anything during my four-day weekend. I went to the beach and slept and read books. I did go to a little museum on Saturday, where I learned that during the American Civil War, a southern ship (CSS Alabama) captured a northern ship (Sea Bride) off of the Western Cape (where I am). So that was cool.

Anyway, today I got a story about an old house. Which was all I knew about it when they gave it to me, so I was like "Wait, what am I doing?" and my editor was like "GTFO and report." Because journalism practice states that to teach a young journalist how to do journalism things, you have to make them do things they don't know how to do at a moment's notice. Make sense?

Thus, I found myself in one of the Times' white compact cars heading down the highway with Courtney, one of our photographers.

We ended up at a whitewashed cottage overlooking some kind of chemical plant. The woman who owns the place opened the gate so we could pull in, and we were greeted by two adorable Pekingese dogs upon getting out of the car. They were the cutest things ever. The smallest one was really friendly and would put its tiny paws on your knee while it gave you a look saying, "I am adorable, so you should pet me."

Anyway. Reporting.

The house was built in 1710, so I think it was one of the oldest buildings I've ever been in. It turned out I was reporting on it because there is currently a debate about another old cottage. The opposing cottage was built in the 1870s and the man who owns the property wants to demolish it to build a parking lot for his restaurant. The Heritage Committee just told him he can't do that because of the historical value. He contends that it can't be restored because it has no foundation so it isn't worth preserving. The woman who owns Klein Zoar, the cottage I visited today, begs to differ.

It's a beautiful house. It still has a thatch roof, which needs to be maintained regularly for a whopping $45,000 on EACH SIDE OF THE ROOF. The floors are cow dung. (Am I making this sound nice yet?) The doors are low, even for me at 5'4, but it's a really cozy space and they have the old-school original hearth and oven. For someone who likes rustic/small/old things, I was quite happy with it. The point of the article is that this woman, who restored and lives in a 300-year old cottage, doesn't believe that the other cottage is impossible to restore and can give an expert opinion on what should happen to said cottage. I came back and wrote and I think they're publishing it tomorrow.

I also made the worst phone call EVER today, when I called someone else for this story. I keep forgetting that I don't really know my phone number yet and most people here don't have caller ID, so you have to leave a return number if you leave a message. So I get to the end of the call and I go, "Call me back at...uh..." and then I flounder for a minute until I either remember my number or I make something up. Today it was bad though, because Abby was looking at me from across the desk and I started laughing because she was looking at me while I was leaving a message. And I said, "Stop looking at me!" also while I was recording this message. So this poor man, whenever he gets this, is going to be like, "Who the hell is the Times hiring these days?"

On a more serious note, Abby spent the day reporting on an 18-year-old who was run down by a car and got taken off life-support on Sunday (he was declared braindead by that point). She did a really admirable job with such a sensitive piece, especially since she had to talk to the father of the kid, who was trying not to cry during the whole interview. I don't know the family, but they are in my thoughts. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a child. Hats off to you, Abby. Even if you did ruin my phone call.

Cape Town: Shark-Repellent Batspray

I'm actually at the end of the work week, if you can believe it. I get a four-day weekend because of Easter (my normal schedule is Sunday-Thursday, so I'm getting Thursday and Sunday off). I really like my job so far. The people in the office are great, if eccentric, and the work I'm doing is the reason I got into this field in the first place. I get to research anything that comes my way and I have enough clout since I'm at a reputable publication that I can get people on the phone. Then I get to tell a story and have to puzzle out how to make it interesting to the reader. It's fun.

Our autism story got published today! We were so excited. And I turned around two stories today, at least one of which will probably get published.

Anyway, today while Abby and I were working on our respective stories, she leaned across the desk.

"Did you think this thing could really repel sharks?"

Back up an hour to the reporter's meeting. One of the photographers had been pitching this story about a surfboard that was supposed to repel sharks for the past two meetings and our editor finally just gave in and assigned it to Abby. She had been researching it since.

As it turned out, the board wasn't some kind of shark-repellent device. There just is a guy who paints things on boards like "I'm not a seal" and "100% broccoli" and then sits on them in shark tanks for hours at a time to prove that people shouldn't be afraid of sharks. (He hasn't been eaten/mauled yet, so I guess it's working.) There was an uproar in the newsroom when everybody found out that THAT was story that the photographer had been pitching so relentlessly. He was really disappointed that it wasn't some kind of new invention to ward off sharks. The stuff that goes through a newsroom...

Also, did anyone know that while sharks kill 5 people a year worldwide, cows kill 50? The world is weird.

Cape Town: First Step to Successful Journalism is Finding the Door into the Building

Abby and I co-wrote a story today! It was our first day. Just because we wrote it doesn't mean it's going into the newspaper, but hopefully it will get in somewhere.

We got to the newsroom this morning at 9:30, the appointed time for us to be there. Martine took us to the Cape Times News Editor, who put us at desks. We're across from each other, both using really, really old desktop PCs that are standing on old phonebooks. While we tried to log into the system, we got called in to the morning editorial meeting. Sybrand, the news editor, introduced us to the other reporters and they got into the stories they were supposed to do for the day. He basically yelled at them for not having enough/good enough story ideas. Then Abby and I were back at our desks with nothing to do, the other reporters having dispersed with nary a care for their new interns.

We puttered for a while and then Janet, a top person at the newspaper, came over and introduced herself and told us what we needed to know. Ten minutes later, Sybrand yelled across the newsroom:

"LYNNE! Do you do medical stuff?!"

I looked around and then pointed at myself. "Me?" I asked.

"Yes, you," he replied impatiently. "Do you do medical stuff?"

"Um, I think maybe Abby would be better suited," I said, since Abby is way more interested in health stuff than I am and I thought she would like to have the story.

He sent Abby to go see Janet, and she came back and told me that she had a story on an Autism Awareness thing 45 minutes away.

And I said, "I'm going with you."

At 1:00, we were in the car with our photographer Brandon, who was driving. He's a really nice guy and I'm glad we had him for our first assignment. We got out to the place, Planet Kids, and after more than one try, we got into the building. As it turns out, today is/was World Autism Awareness Day and Autism South Africa actually got them to light Table Mountain blue for the worldwide campaign to raise autism awareness. (http://www.lightitupblue.org) We interviewed the head of Autism Western Cape and the head of Autism South Africa, and it was really uncomfortable because they were essentially telling us what we had to write. They really wanted an advertisement in the Cape Times rather than an article about their event and autism in South Africa.

We interviewed two mothers too: one with the youngest diagnosed child in South Africa, a two year old, and a woman with two autistic sons under 5. She had to quit her job to stay home with her kids because there are almost no daycare facilities or schools that accept autistic children (and if they do, they do not cater to their specific needs). Autism is not known in South Africa like it is in the States. It is not well-publicized or understood. Children in rural areas have it the worst, because it is often thought that they are possessed by a demon. Their caregivers will make them drink bleach so that they will vomit up the demon or tie them to their beds. It's actually quite horrific.

Anyway, we got interviews and wrote a story on it--Abby and I have different writing styles, so it was a little difficult to get the story together, but we did and it's a lovely soft, human interest piece. I'm so proud of us! We'll see if anything happens with it.

Cape Town: A Drop in the Ocean

Yesterday, we went to a township called Bonteheuvel outside of Cape Town. Before I talk about the actual visit, I want to explain what the townships are and how they developed.

When the apartheid regime came into power in the late 1940s, the nation was full of different races, namely the blacks of the nine main African tribes, the Afrikaans and English-speaking whites who were descended from the colonizers of earlier days, the Indians, the Malays and the mixed race of people who are descended from some or all of these groups.

These races had lived mostly in harmony until the apartheid regime happened. As such, Cape Town were a diverse mix of people. The apartheid regime began an aggressive campaign of forcibly removing the blacks and the "coloureds" (everyone who was not wholly white or black) from Cape Town and pushing them out into the Cape Flats, an inhospitable and largely unsettled area outside of the cities. The blacks and coloureds were essentially put into concentration camps which developed into the townships. These areas had lower quality education than that of the cities and had no recreational facilities for youth. They were breeding grounds for gangs, which thrived then and now in these areas. Violence and drug addiction skyrocketed. Those in the townships had little hope for a better future, given that achievement past a certain level was forbidden by the state. They had been torn from their homes and their neighborhoods (people who had lived in a certain district of Cape Town would be relocated in different townships) and were suddenly treated as non-citizens of their own countries.

Now that apartheid is over, as of 1994, people can move around as they please. But the gang culture and everything that accompanies it (violence, drugs, black market arms, prostitution) is embedded in the townships. Families were fractured and torn apart all those years ago, and the voids have never been filled for the younger generations. Economic equality is slowly, slowly coming about, but for the people in these areas, higher education and good jobs might as well be on the moon for all the access they have to them. (The Black Economic Empowerment is in place, but that still has a ways to go and leaves out a lot of mixed race people.)

This is where Bonteheuvel, a largely coloured settlement, comes in. We went yesterday and met Omar, who was placed in the township in the 1960s. He told us about the development of gang culture and also the struggle for freedom from apartheid. A lot of the young men who were involved in the liberation struggle in the 1970s and 1980s were in and out of jail and fell into drugs to deal with their lives. A woman who has lost three children to gang violence in Bonteheuvel told us: "You must stay together. You cannot give in to despair, or you are dead."

We went into the library, which is quite nice and has a lot of programs to help kids learn and keep them busy, and to one of the preschools, where we met one of the most passionate men I've ever encountered in my life. His name is Mike, and he prepares kids for kindergarten. He loved those little kids so much, and they listened to every word he said. He told us,"This is where my heart is. And every year, we have a little graduation...and I cry at every bloody one! You take care of these kids, some from 3 months old, and then you have to let them go. I can't let go." He had them sing the South African national anthem for us (it's in 5 different languages) and it was the most adorable things ever (these kids are like four). This man makes very little money and works in a gang-infested area for love of these little children, who he believes are the country's future. It's a beautiful thing. Mike may just be a drop in the ocean, but he's doing a lot of good.

We then went to Mamelani, a program for young men who have been on the street, that teaches them skills so that they can get jobs and tries to help them stay off of drugs. We talked to the guys about what they want to do in five years, and they all said something that related to preventing others from experiencing what they had in their childhoods.

"I want to be a father," one said. "I want to be one of those parents who has a permanent job and who is there for his kid. I want to be a dad."

I think that speaks for itself.

Today, we spent the morning at Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 18 years. Many other political prisoners were kept there during the apartheid years. I'd talk more about prison conditions if this post wasn't so long already. But what struck me was the fact that ex-prisoners showed us around the prison--many have moved back to Robben Island (which is no longer a prison) in order to preserve the memory of where South Africa has been. And they say they are now friends with the guards that beat them and locked them up--they have forgiven them. It was a theme of the place, and it's a theme of the country. The oppressed have forgiven the oppressors. Have they really? But the fact that they are at least trying says a lot.

On a less serious note, we spent the rest of the day in the Winelands, essentially the Napa Valley of South Africa. Northwestern arranged for us to go do wine tastings at two different vineyards. I have no idea why, but they did. It was fun, but I HATE wine. Especially red wine. It was a weird day today--serious history and heavy drinking. Apologies for the long post!

Cape Town: Lynnesanity

We have arrived in Cape Town and it is officially AWESOME. Joburg kids are jealous. It's beautiful here AND we are on Long Street, which is basically Cape Town Party Central. (Not that anyone's been taking advantage of that or anything. Nope. For the record, I MYSELF actually haven't.)

We are actually staying in a hotel called Daddy Long Legs--a lot of people thought I was kidding. I'm not. We're staying in apartments rather than hotel rooms, and they're nicer than my apartment at school. Actually, about as nice as my house back in Cincinnati. I'm rooming with the lovely Nina Leff, and our other three Cape Town interns are across the hall in a separate apartment (Abby, Zach, and Lauren).

Today we went to Parliament and listened in on a public hearing about the Protection of State Information Bill, which most people are calling the Secrecy Bill. This bill is making serious waves and is relevant to us since we're media interns. Essentially, in its present form, the bill would allow the government to come down hard on journalists who publish state information--this includes confidential information and other information that the state defines as information that should not be released to the public. There is no public interest defense in the bill (i.e. information that is relevant to the public interest, like details on the Watergate scandal, can be published even if they are damaging to the state) or any mention of public domain (information that is already public should be protected). The bill is sweeping and gives the government a lot of punitive power and, as it stands, encourages journalists not to pursue potentially important stories that are damaging to the government in any way. Many want the bill to be revised and are waging war in the media and in hearings like the one we were at today. I can't see how it will pass without some revisions--it's far too severe as it is.

On a brighter note, I got to go to the Cape Times today! I didn't think I would get to go before I started my internship. I met my boss, and he was basically like, "Hi. When you get here, you're going to start writing immediately. OK bye." So I may not even get a shadowing period. We'll see how that goes. The office seems nice and the people seem friendly though, and it's within walking distance from the apartment.

Scenery-wise, Table Mountain bathes Cape Town in its shadow, hanging over it like a protector. Here's a picture: http://www.sa-venues.com/gallery/table-mountain-17.jpg

It's beautiful. Every time I look up, I see it. I've never lived in a city so closely bordered by a mountain, so I keep thinking that it's storm clouds and then I'm all, "OH MY GOD THAT'S A MOUNTAIN." There are so many tourist things I want to do here--go to the top of Table Mountain, go on the Garden Route, visit Cape Point...so little time!

Sorry about the Lynne-centric post. I'm just really excited about Cape Town.

Johannesburg/Pretoria: Blood of Our Ancestors

We spent the day today in Johannesburg and Pretoria--Pretoria is South Africa's administrative capital and is about an hour from Joburg. Mostly we've been visiting the various news operations that we've are going to be working at (we're scattered among The Star, the Cape Times, the Cape Argus, e-News in Joburg and e-News in Cape Town, Business Day, and the Times). Unfortunately, the Cape Town people are getting SHAFTED on this. The Cape Times people and the e-News people will not get to go to their newsrooms before starting work, which sucks because we've had no contact with our supervisors and so far, the staff we've been introduced to at other sites seemed unaware that they were getting interns in the first place. (This program is almost 10 years old and has been using many of the same sites during that time). I'm worried I'll show up to work on Monday and they'll be like, "Who are you?"

In the afternoon today, though, we visited Freedom Park in Pretoria, which was beautiful and really interesting. There are stone walls stacked at least 20 feet high that are being covered with the names of those who have died in various South African conflicts--the recent struggle for liberation from apartheid, ethnic conflicts, and colonial wars. We went to a shrine in the middle of the park that is for the ancestors. South Africans used to believe (and some still believe) in the power of their ancestors. Not their biological ancestors, but their elders in general. It is believed that when a person dies, their spirit goes into a boulder, and they are available for advice to those who perform the proper rites.

The shrine was basically a circle of these boulders that hold the spirits of the ancestors. We took off our shoes before entering and had a moment of silence at the shrine for the ancestors and everyone who has died in centuries of South African conflict. Then we washed our hands in a stone bowl before leaving, to symbolize cleansing. I think it was important for us to do while we are here.

Tomorrow we fly to Cape Town! Then I can settle in where I'm staying, a place called Daddy Long Legs. I'm really excited.

Johannesburg: (At Mandela's) Home Alone

I'm here! The flights were actually pretty uneventful;
just long. I'm in Joburg until Wednesday for part of
orientation, then all of the Northwestern interns fly
to Cape Town. The 8 who are working in Johannesburg
will fly back here on Sunday and we all start work
next Monday (April 2). There will be five of us in Cape Town.

Today we spent the day touring Joburg with a tour guide
named Elvis. We saw Soweto, the southwestern township
that was crucial to the liberation struggle back in the late 1980s
and early 1990s.

We also visited Nelson Mandela's old house, which is now
a museum. He moved into it in 1946 with his first wife,
Evelyn, and lived there with his second wife Winnie
until he was arrested in the 1960s for leading the
struggle against apartheid. Members of the Mandela
family lived there for a total of 40 years.

This is a great piece of history, but this part of
the tour led to one of the more dangerous situations I've
been in. After the tour was mostly done, I went to the
bathroom. When I came out, everyone was gone. I left the
premises to see if they were out front or waiting in the
van, and they were not. I fought with the staff to let
me back into the Mandela house to make sure they weren't
on the back patio or something--I got in after a few
minutes, and I came to the conclusion that I had
definitely been left behind. I had no idea where they
had gone, since Elvis pretty much brought us where he
thought we should go without an itinerary.

This may seem bad enough on its own, but it gets worse.
Paula Fray, our main keeper, had not yet given us our
phones (she probably thought that no one could get into
trouble in the first 24 hours, but I guess she didn't
realize that I was on the trip). I was stuck in a
foreign country, alone, with no phone or money. Even if
I had had money, I'm still not all that clear on how
SA's public transportation works. So I was like, "FUCK."

I told the man who had let me back into the house that
my people were gone, and he proposed we go up the street
to see if they were at another museum close by. I
figured I had two options: one, wait at the house until
my fellow students realized I was missing, or two, see
if I could find them. Well, technically three options, the third being get kidnapped and never leave South Africa.

I decided to go up to the other
museum and see if they were there. We went, and the
people at the desk told us they hadn't come in. The
guy from the Mandela house wanted to check around back
to see if the van was parked there, but I refused and
told him I was going back to the Mandela house to wait.
He walked me back and reassured me that we would find
them (I'm pretty sure he was a well-intentioned guy who
actually intended to help me find the others). When we
had almost reached the house, Rocean, one of the other
interns, darted out of a van parked across the street
and flagged me down (all vans are white and look pretty
similar). Abby, who's going to be working with me at the
Cape Times, also came out and they asked me where I'd
gone.

"Where did YOU go?! You guys left me!"

We climbed back into the van and I told the other
interns what happened. They were appalled and sorry
about leaving me. They had walked up to another place
for a few minutes and hadn't realized that I wasn't
with them until they had come back and gotten in the
van.

"We had a collective heart attack," Zach told me at
dinner. "And you seemed pretty mad when we found you,
but you were pretty composed. A lot of people would have
been in hysterics."

After that incident, we went to the Apartheid Museum, which was
quite well organized and put together. I'll talk more about
apartheid later--I'm pretty tired. But it's still very
important for a lot of reasons, and I'll definitely get to it.

Finally, we went to dinner at Paula Fray's house.It was
really delicious--I had traditional South African
sausage, which is made up of lamb, beef, and pork. We
met Paula's husband, sons, and dogs (one of them is
named Batman, and that dog has mad skills). We got our
phones and headed back to the guest house we're in.

So all in all, a crazy day. I've already gotten into
trouble and it only took 18 hours. I continue to break
my own records.

Cincinnati: Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends

Hey everybody! If you're new to this blog, it's essentially a chronicle of my ridiculous adventures in foreign countries--the posts that precede this one are from my Uganda trip. I lived in a Ugandan village called Kakira for two months and worked at an NGO that cared for patients with malaria and HIV/AIDS and vaccinated young children against various diseases.

Now I'm off to South Africa for 10 weeks to work at a newspaper in Cape Town--the Cape Times. I am actually a journalism major, so this is an area I have experience in already. Whether I'm going to be any good at this job remains to be seen, however.

I'm leaving on a plane tomorrow afternoon--first from Cincinnati to Detroit, then Detroit to Amsterdam, then Amsterdam to Johannesburg. It'll be long, but hopefully everything will go smoothly (I'm flying KLM again, and for those of you who remember the Uganda Odyssey, you'll understand that I'm a bit nervous). Speaking of those who remember my former adventures, I want to thank everyone who kept up with me while I was abroad last summer. From those who actively commented on my posts to those who kept me in their thoughts during the tough times, I am incredibly grateful and surprised that you found my blog worth it. I hope I can continue to deliver.

My next post will probably happen when I get to Joburg, unless I'm stuck in Amsterdam for a while. I should probably go finish packing...or I could just play video games. Tough choice.