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.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
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...
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...
Thursday, April 12, 2012
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!
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!
Monday, April 9, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, April 2, 2012
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.
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.
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