A Massive Post about my past week in South Africa

This is the past several days all rolled up into one massively large document. Enjoy.
Blog Posts
Flight 6/29-30
Flying procures a mix of emotions for me. Usually, I am excited. Recently, I’ve been plagued with a nasty case of nerves. Sometimes this is caused by not knowing members of mmy traveling group but more often than not t is from knowing what could happen. Although, today’s experiences have been altogether different. I have identified two new panic inducing situations as a result of flying.
Due to the increased security threats every item packed is under sever scrutiny. My first security check point in Detroit was fine. Once in Amsterdam I encountered an entirely new scenario. As I am gathering my many dispersed items from the conveyor belt, a very polite TSA agent asked about a pair of “tweezers” that appeared to be in my bag. I never assumed a pair of aluminum tweezers would became a security threat, and so in the last moment I decided to toss the tweezers into my carry on backpack. Because really, every girl needs a pair of tweezers that are readily accessible and trusthworthy. The agent is patiently waiting for me to instantly locate this dastardly small tool. I begin to frantically search pockets of my backpack. “Please sir”, I beg, “I know I have them, but this is like searching for a needle in a haystack.” The man looks gentle enough but shows no sign of empathy, “It looks as if it is in a small bag”. Of course! The toiletry bag! I begin the search with newfound hope that I may have placed something logically where it could be located in an instant. Those nasty buggers aren’t there. I stare dumbfounded at the agent who is now obviously questioning my intentions. Then I recall packing my back up toiletry bug which was scrunched way down at the bottom of my bag. Alas, I find the tweezers.
I never would have guessed that a simple pair of forceps could transformed from a trustworthy tool into a betraying piece of scrap metal wanna-be. I sadly hold up the perpetrator when the agent states, almost jokingly, “Okay, now we know.”
My second anxiety inducting interaction came with attempting to connect to the internet. Upon settling in our new base for the next five hours in Amsterdam I sit down to use the wi-fi connection. It doesn’t work. Okay, now it’s time to find a hot spot. Some friends and I relocated to a wi-fi hotspot. The search is on. Target acquired: lounge below the food court. Denied. Apparently, there is an access code which we do not have.
In a situation like this a group of intelligent college students turns into a rabid pack of wolves on the brink of starvation. Facebook. Gmail. We need these things to live. If a college student could choose facebook over shelter we would opt for facebook. We cannot survive without these things. The airport is started to wake up, it is just about seven in the morning, so I find a cashier in a News shop. She has no idea but directs us to a different lounge area. We grab our bags and haul up the dizzying spiral staircase to a new lounge. A man comes by, and mumbles something to us that is later translated into “No. We no open til 7.” Like dejected puppies we walk back down the dizzying, spiral staircase. Then, the glimmer of hope. We spy a small group of men happily browsing the internet. I boldly walk up to a friendly looking African man and ask how he got the access code to this crazy network. He sharply replies “It is today’s date.” Easy enough.
We had been flying for 7 hours already so we knew that It was June 30th. This tidbit turned out to be not so helpful. This was like the first smell of food after not eating for a few days, or hours, depending on your eating habits. It wet our appetite but was unmistakably not susbstantial enough. New questions arose: What format do we use, date month year? Or month date year? Is the year shortened? Should we spell the month entirely? Stumped I am back to the hands that fed me. Dejected, I ask the man for more help with the format. He seems embarrassed that these young American adults could figure out something so simple as the access code. How could the general public be so naïve? He looks over at his friends with a face that read those two questions and reluctantly types in the password: klm30062010.

7/1
- breakfast: there is vegemite, or miramite, or termite. Something –mite
- mall: computer that looks like darth vader. Picture to follow
- Park: pet a cheetah and drank wine. Dad, I’m doing my research to bring you back the best bottle possible.
- Dinner: mall food court, tried to call home, failed miserably. Will rely on slow computers at the main building of the guest house.
- Tomorrow: Robben Island & district 6 museum & SOCCER//er FOOTBALL
- Weather report: beautiful during the day, mid 60s. Once the sun goes away the cold comes out to play. It is pretty cool at night, my fingers are not moving very quickly to type.
7/2 Robben Island
Robben Island, in case you are unaware, is a former leper colony/military base/political prison. This is where Nelson Mandela was jailed for 18+ years. Our tour guide was a former prisoner there for seven years. It is always eerie to be touring a place where people experienced the worst possible situations. We were told about the founder of PNC, whose name I cannot remember, who was in the medium security prison. He was not allowed to talk to anyone but had free range of the prison. After he was released the man was psychologically deranged and died of a heart attack at age 56. It is amazing to me that someone like Nelson Mandela could survive 18 years of abuse, near starvation, freezing, public humiliation, etc. He did all this, then became president of the country. The most inspiring part of this is that he, and the other prisoners, were capable of forgiving and reconciling with his captors. This act is so powerful. Just knowing that there are people out there who can do this is encouraging as a person and future educator.
There was also the “Robben Island University”. The prisoners would hide out in a cave while working at the limestone quarry (which was a pointless humiliating task as the Island would not and could not use limestone for anything) and teach each other to read, write, professional things, etc. Their slogan, “Each one teach one” Is truly inspiring.
It is crazy to learn about how these men banded together to help survive. Each prisoner would go through hell including extended periods of no food, solitary confinement, etc. I suppose that if you truly believe in your cause and if it is just then no amount of physical or mental roadblocks will keep that goal from being achieved.
As a total 180 we spent the remainder of the afternoon watching “football” with all of the South Africans. The atmosphere was AMAZING. There is such an evident sense of pride and nationalism. No one was being rude or mean to any other person.

7/3 Wine Tasting
We went to Vrede en Lust Winery. Cape Town is famous for their wines. This winery in particular is well decorated with awards for Best Wines. We tried a Rose, which was yummy, but tasted mostly like Franzia. Then we had some white wines which were flavorful but kind of strange, mostly because it tasted like licking the bark on a tree. The red wines were definitely the best. We tried one which was recently awarded the Best Red Wine EVER. The actual title is more professional but I can’t remember it. This wine was best enjoyed with some yummy dark chocolates. I bought a bottle. It’ll be a great present for Dad who is trying his best to become a wine snob. After eating some delicious cheese and wines we made our way to an Afrikaans monument. It was interesting but I could not hear the curator very well.
That evening was spent at another Fan Park. These are places that have jumbo TVs for everyone to watch the games. This was insane. It was for the quarter final game which was being played in Nelson Mandela Bay in Cape Town. This meant that the whole city was crazed with football fever. There is just an in describable energy in the air. The walk up to the stadium is filled with merchant stands, where I bought a vuvuzela, musicians, and just so many people. I have to say it now, and probably a thousand more times: Vuvuzelas are amazing. I do not know how I ever lived without one. It is basically a shofar on steroids, and made of plastic. These need to be incorporated into everything. The great thing about these is that people start vuvuzela wars with one another on the street. Also, there was a vuvuzela band but that comes in later and I do not want to jump ahead.
The walkway to the fan park was so crowded that a bunch of us left and explored the city on our own. We walked around trying to find somewhere to eat, watch the game, or both. We went to one place which was packed full of people just watching the game. The bouncer-guy was super friendly although could not make space for the 7 of us. We ended up walking back to the fan parade area. There we found a mall which was transformed into a party. There were bands in the atrium area, TVs on everywhere, and people just having fun. We ended up sitting on the patio of a hair salon where we met Hugh, which is actually pronounced like “you”. He was so nice, and drunk. He introduced us to his entire family/neighborhood. He just chatted with us for a while until we had to meet our group. I love the atmosphere that comes with the World Cup. Afterwards we had a late dinner where I tried ostrich! It was very yummy. Then we got home around 1 or so.