Cape Town - Week 8

Oh man, where to start this week. Unfortunately, my week excluded any photo shoots for the Cape Times (somehow managed to screw that one up pretty well), flights on a Gyrocopter, or even a Rugby World Cup Final match to watch (although there was the celebration parade this Monday morning -- thus the reason for my delay in posting the blog til now as I was a bit low on blog-worthy pics).

Anyhoo, I was quite happy to commence my week with a Monday night out at Mercury. Referred to in a previous blog, Mercury is the equivalent of an 80s/90s rock bar, playing every single classic rock song from Green Day – “When I Come Around” to Bon Jovi – “It's My Life.” With a crowd that exudes non-stop energy, Mercury has officially become my favorite night out of the week (despite the pre-teeny crowd it tends to draw in). However, this week… well this week was quite different. I’m not sure to whom the memo was sent out, although I did not receive any such notification of the “rainbow-filled” night which was celebrated this past Monday. Now, by no means am I at all homophobic. I am quite supportive of anyone’s right to choose with whom they wish to be with. However, when my favorite night out turns into an evening of half-naked men prancing around the bar, smacking eachother on their asses, and waving their shirts wildly in the air, well… lets just say it was hard to establish a level of comfort in such surroundings. And when the patented 2am mosh pit turned into more of an orgy, I decided it was time to call it quits, have my nightly Boerevors (the most amazing bratwurst equivalent in the world), and hit the sack.

Aside from a night of exploring the unique sexual behavior patterns of South Africa’s gay male population, I did manage to make my first trip to Stellenbosch, the wine capital of South Africa. Equivalent to Napa or Sonoma Valley in the amazing number of wine farms in the area, Stellenbosch also boasts approximately 17,000 college students, making it one of the rare college/vineyard towns in the world. In a night full of amazing highlights, the greatest involved running into my 1st American since my arrival here (yes, it’s been 8 weeks and I had yet to meet an American up to this point). While initially I thought the hippyish Californian was messing with me, and attempting to mock my American accent (which stands out here as much as an elephant would in the middle of Central Park), I soon realized that I was face-to-face with the literal definition of a “surfer dude.” Sporting the amazingly popular name of Mark, my new American friend was visiting SA to see his “boera-girl” (aka, Afrikaans girlfriend), and was just as happy to meet a fellow “yank.” After a brief conversation regarding what brought each of us halfway across the world to a country rarely travelled to by USers, we parted ways, only to run into eachother approximately 5 hours later at another “beverage-serving institution.”

After a great night out that brought back memories of roaming around South U during a U of M summer (Jim/Grace, hopefully you aren’t the only two that can relate to this one), my next day in Stellenbosch involved visiting one of the most famous vineyards in the area - Spiers. Promoting an atmosphere that resembled more of a recycled jungle-gym thrown into the midst of an African village, I was quite honored when provided the opportunity to teach the local bartenders my favorite morning concoction – a Mimosa. Although I originally received a full glass of champagne, and a completely separate jug (yes, jug) of orange juice, I managed to describe in detail, how to create this delicious AM delight. And although I received a look of "why the hell would you ever drink that," I was still happy that I could bring a little bit of America all the way over here to Africa.

Onto this weeks lesson:

“Learn me something something about South Africa.”

This Week's Topic: The Rules of Driving

While mentioned quite frequently in past blogs, driving in South Africa tends to be one of the most interesting and nerve-racking experiences. With all the opportunity in the world to enforce the well-established rules of driving which we follow back home, South Africans take any opportunity to avoid such rules, and drive as lawlessly as possible. Below is just a sample of some of the common driving “techniques” found throughout this country:

- Driving in one’s own lane is unacceptable. You must only drive in the middle of two lanes, in the lane of opposing traffic, or on the sidewalk

- When driving distances greater than 20 meters, the only acceptable way of driving is to floor the accelerator until needing to slam on the brakes. Coasting or steady acceleration/decleration are completely prohibited

- You may only hoot (aka “honk”) your horn if you are 110% sure that this action will not cause your life to be in dire danger

- Driving unknowingly through a red light is quite easy, as traffic lights, instead of being properly placed over intersections, are instead hidden off to the side of the road, usually behind trees, bushes, or even street signs placed conveniently in front of them

- Instead of deer running across the highway, the next closest (and more common) obstacle are people, darting across lanes without any worry of being struck by an oncoming vehicle. A common technique utilized is to pretend to run, hesitate, and then dash across the road only once the driver has removed their foot from the brake after the initial "false attempt"

- Mini-bus taxis do not need to obey any rules. While all they worry about is finding their next passenger, you must constantly worry about avoiding them, as they will cross 4 lanes of traffic (even those in the opposite direction) to pick up an awaiting traveler -- thus, the goal here is to do anything in your power to avoiding driving next to, nearby, in front of, or behind one (this is quite impossible as they are literally everywhere)

- Pedestrians never have the right of the way. Even if the crosswalk says walk, and all lights are red, you must only cross at your own expense. No exceptions.

In following such rules, I was quite proud when my first vehicle-related accident did not involve any of the aforementioned dangers. Instead, I found myself in a frightingly Seinfeldish scene, whereby a pigeon refused to move out of the way of my vehicle, as I attempted to park at a gas station, causing me to unknowingly drive into a wall at 2KM/hr in an attempt to avoid it. While quite terrified that the crunching noise coming from the front of my car was a dead pigeon beneath my tire, I instead was quite relieved when determining that the noise instead was my bumper running into the 2 foot wall in front of me. Damnit.

Onto the pics...

	I gotta include a classic night shot out -- Me and the "boys" out and about
	Promoting some African face paint at the "jungle gym" vineyard. Don't ask why the lady felt I needed puppy paw prints on my face instead of an actual African design...
	Young little Bokke supporter
	Mom, I know she's not Jewish, but we're in love...
	Our sign depicting a Springbok "mounting" an English Bulldog was definitely a hit with the team
	Brian Habana -- quite possibly one of the fastest athletes in the world -- hoisting the World Cup Championship trophy (he loved our sign too)
	Long Street during the parade -- a "hectic" scene depicting the fact that not one person in all of Cape Town went to work today...

Cape Town - Week 7

Bokkkkkkkkkkkkkkke!! Bokkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! If you did not happen to catch the match on Saturday, as most likely a replay of blind monkeys playing poker was being shown on ESPN the Ocho instead, the South Africa Springboks are officially the 2007 Rugby World Cup Champions! In an intense match made up of only football-equivalent field goals, South Africa defeated England 15-6, and thus secured their 2nd ever rugby world cup title. Although I have only been a fan of the sport of rugby for less than 6 weeks, last night was quite possibly one of the greatest spectator moments of my life. Watching the match at a local bar in Cape Town, I, alongside of about 300 wildly frenzied fans, cheered on the Springboks throughout 80 minutes of intense rugby action. And when the clock finally ran out, and the championship was in the hands of South Africa, absolute mayhem broke out (video is on facebook if you are interested). Singing and cheering. Hugging and dancing. Honking of car horns as less than sober fans took to the streets, waving flags from their vehicles. You’d be hard pressed to find one not-completely-elated person in this entire country Saturday night (probably a different story the next morning as the post-game hangover kicked in). I cannot even imagine what it was like for my flatmate Kevin, who booked a flight to actually go see the game in Paris literally 3 days before (with of course no ticket to the game, no visa, or place to stay, at the time of the purchase of his $1,200 flight – now that’s dedication).

Aside from the festivities related to the rugby championship, the rest of my week was quite possibly the most eventful/uneventful week thus far. While no photo shoots occurred for the Cape Times (as I have momentarily been fired from my volunteer job until I submit a more “news-worthy” portfolio), I did manage to get in some amazing shots from my mothers 1st cousins (yes, another never-met-you-before-but-somehow-we’re-related relatives) gyrocopter. If the picture below does not do justice to this airworthy vehicle, it is like a mini helicopter, although you sit completely out in the open. No roof above your head. No walls to the side to keep you from plummeting thousands of feet below. Only a trusty seatbelt, and of course a nice little bug-shield to protect you from swallowing one of those damn malaria-infected mosquitoes.

Flying approximately 1,000 – 2,000 ft in the air, we traveled at about 100 MPH all over the city of Cape Town. Across the Atlantic Ocean, witnessing a mother and baby whale swimming alongside one another. Over secluded sand dunes, located in the remotest parts of the city limits. Even a few hundred feet above the shoreline, passing over the heads of dozens of pointing beach goers, watching our ridiculous aircraft pass by, just above their reach. I will let the pictures below tell the rest of the story, but it was truly an amazing experience. My favorite part of the entire journey was the point at which the following was stated to me over the radio, just before a 2,000 ft free fall to within a few dozen feet of the ocean below: “Now Mark, don’t worry. I’m just going to kill the engine for a bit so we can coast down closer to the water a bit faster.” With one crash already under his belt, I was more than happy that my 2nd cousin did not add to that tally with me in the back seat.

Well, that’s about it actually.

Onto this weeks lesson:

“Learn me something something about South Africa.”

This Week's Topic: The Cape Doctor

Every summer, from about November to February, a wind as fierce as any hurricane, arrives into Cape Town and literally just blows and blows and blows. Now, this is no oh-my-god-it-was-windy-yesterday type of wind. It is everyday. Nonstop. With a few breaks here and there, but more or less, a constant blowing of gods wrath (pick whichever one you want/believe in).

Reaching speeds of up to 100 MPH as the wind whips over Table Mountain (creating an amazing “tablecloth” cloud over the mountain), the Cape Doctor, also known as the “South Easter,” can blow consistently at speeds of 50 MPH all day long. All. Day. Long. For the most part, everyone seems used to it, although obviously there are negatives to such a wind. For instance, certain beaches are completely off limits, as the blowing sand is worse than being lost in a Sahara dust-storm. And of course driving with two hands is an essential, as a strong gust can literally throw you off the road (especially when driving the “Green Monster” -- aka Lucy the Lawn Mower)

Of course then, why is it called the “Cape Doctor?” Well, to quote half the South Africans to which I have talked about this subject: “See that shit over there (pointing to the hazy smog on the horizon). It takes all that shit and gets it the f*ck out of here.” Thus, the wind literally picks up ALL the pollution and smog and blows it away, leaving the air as crisp and clean as a Colorado mountain morning. Thus, the Cape Doctor -- of which I have only experienced the “mild” version, which was still strong enough to shake my entire friends flat.

Onto the pics... (no clue why the captions were cut off...)

	Flying high in the Gyrocopter
	The Gyrocopter itself -- for those "Neverending Story" diehards, this could quite possibly be the greatest designed machine in the world
	Mother and baby whale swimming in the Atlantic
	View of Cape Town from up above
	Some random sand dunes literally in the middle of nowhere
	Showing off my USA/SA pride -- yes, I know, I'm quite creative
	South Africa vs England -- the ultimate battle of body-painted fans vs oldskies with curvy teeth
	Bokkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

Cape Town - Week 6

The joys of sickness visited me this week, as I was given the distinct pleasure of celebrating my first illness in South Africa: A nightlife-induced cold – caused by a unique combination of late nights out on the town, and enough second hand smoke that would make the Marlboro Man step outside for a bit of fresh air. It was only a matter of time until one of three main bodily organs decided to call it quits, and teach me a lesson in “staying in every now and then.” While my liver remained strong, and I haven’t needed to utilize my brain since college, my lungs won the prize of a hiatus in health status. They no longer could deal with the multitude of smokers in Cape Town, smokers who go through a carton of cigarettes like a lion tears through a freshly killed zebra (mmm, tasty). Thus, my mornings have been comprised of nonstop coughing spasms. Good times!

With my cold in recovery, and a few 12-hour sleeps behind me, I was off on another shoot for the Cape Times. Finally embarking on my first non-food related photo shoot, I was invited out to Freedom Hill Township, to partake in a day of volunteering … for my non-paying, volunteer job. Alongside of about 30-40 other dedicated philanthropists, we assisted the township in the building of four new homes. I personally was assigned to one of the “from-scratch” houses, starting off with nothing more than a slab of concrete and some bricks. Following instructions from a local township native sporting a G-Unit t-shirt and possessing the demeanor of Tony Soprano, I assisted in creating the to-a-T definition of a brick & mortar house. No drywall. No plumbing. No electricity. Just walls. A door and a few windows too. But mainly walls. Walls of concrete, put together with as much care and precision as a … well … whatever analogy defines something that has no care or precision (I’ve been racking my brain for about 10 minutes now, and still can’t think of an object, so time to move on). Although the house we built was not pretty, it was a much-needed improvement upon the small kitchen-sized huts in which most of the townships residents currently resided. It is honestly quite sad to see how some of these people live, but everyone was very friendly and welcoming, and you would never guess by their attitudes how horrible their living conditions truly are…

After doing my good deed for the year, and checking off “volunteer in Africa,” from the to-do-before-i-die list, I decided to pursue my next ambition: Join a local sports club. With the list of never-before-played sports in front of me, I narrowed my options down to two: Rugby and cricket. And although the temptation to spend the next year in a cast (or body bag) was quite enticing, I decided that my overwhelming physical presence (all 130 pounds of pure brute strength) would not fair too well in a match of rugby. Thus, I decided to opt for cricket instead. A game somewhat similar to baseball, in that it involves bats and balls, I was confident that past experience in hand/eye coordination games would serve me well. Nope. With no gloves to field with, and a ball that actually bounces before you hit it, my cricket career lasted all of 45 minutes. My cause was not helped too much in that I had attempted to join the equivalent of a AA minor league baseball team, with zero years of cricket experience, no equipment, and only a basic knowledge of the game. The decision to retire my cricket career was made that much easier after not one person talked to me the entire practice, or offered to lend me any equipment. Thus, after participating in one drill which almost broke my wrist as I attempted to field a bouncing ball hit at about 50 MPH, I stood idly by, watching the team in batting practice. I felt like that kid who refuses to go into the pool, because he forgot his rubber pants, so just stands there awkwardly watching. That was me (for the most part). Thus, this upcoming week, I will be scouting recess at the local elementary schools in hopes of picking up the basics before I try to work my way up to teenage leagues.

Tis all for now. Next blog comes after the Rugby World Cup Finals, so it will either be the greatest weekend ever, or most depressing. Go Boks!

Onto this weeks lesson:

“Learn me something something about South Africa.”

This Week's Topic: What to write about when you haven’t put much thought into it, and it’s already the end of the day on Monday

Nothing. : ) Sorry, I'll try harder for next week

Onto the pics...

	One of the volunteers shoveling wet concrete -- an accurately measured mix created by the complex means of pouring out about 10 bags of dry concrete mix and letting the hose run on it til someone notices it's too watery, and thus, more dry concrete mix is needed
	A couple of the local youngsters from the Township -- notice the kid on the right is wearing a Vanilla Ice t-shirt. He was awesome
	The "completed" effort of my teams day of work. Not bad for only about 10 people
	Me with shovel in one hand, and Red Label in the other. A true sign of a hard days work come to a close
	The family who accepted one of the newly finished houses

Cape Town - Week 5

Another week come and gone. Another attempt to provide just a bit of entertainment to spice up that Monday morning for you all back home.

Although I only had one photography assignment this week, it was quite a doozy. Attending the Cape Wine Makers Guild Gastrononomous (google it if you wish), I was treated to an evening of amazing food, wine, and of course several hours spent behind the lens of my trusty camera. While most of my pictures focused around the different foods and wines of the night, I also had the opportunity to photograph the Emeril-equivalent of South African celebrity chefs: Peter Goffe-Wood (a very photogenic man, if the picture below says nothing more).

At R600/plate (about $85), I once again was able to reap non-monetary payments for my “job,” as well as experience some firsts in regards to several dishes:

- Seafood Jello - A mix of various seafood-related dishes (mussels, yellowfish, prawns, other random and recently-deceased friends of Nemo), all compactly served inside of a mold of jello. Each bite was like sinking your teeth into a tasty desert, with the pleasantly awkward surprise of finding a fishy treat inside. Mmm mmm mmmm.

- Quail – Although very tasty, I never realized how difficult it would be to describe a quail to a non-English speaking traveler, as I found in my attempts to depict my evening to my Israeli friend, Eran. “Is it a chicken? A turkey? A peacock?” (If only the TV show “Snorks” had made it across the world, my explanation would have been that much easier)

- Venison Meatloaf – Hands-down the best meatloaf I have ever eaten (sorry Burns Park Elementary School chefs, yours is a close, yet distant 2nd place).

- Veal – While I have remained adamant in my non-eating-of-baby-animal ways, I was unable to resist the appetizing treat presented before me. And not wanting to let its death be in vein, I was forced to go against my conscious, and eat away. Poor little tasty tasty guy.

Aside from experiencing the joys of free food and drinks, the rest of my week was composed of non-free food and drinks. And of course, just another taste of the overly pretentious portion of the female Cape Town population. As the “get the f*ck away from me” girl had already gained infamy for her over-friendly nature, she stood no chance against my newest encounter: The “my friend is way too hot for you” girl. Easily the most delightful person I have yet to meet in my short life, our friendship was cut short as she found great offense in my response that her friend was actually too hot for her. Shame… we had such potential.

In addition to trying new foods, and meeting new friends, I also managed to fit in a journey - a visit to Cape Point, the southern most point in all of Africa. Traveling alongside my new Israeli friend, Eran, we also brought along two other Israelis of whom he had met during his own travels. Now, if I had known that English would only be spoken for about 4.5 minutes during our 12 hour day, I would’ve rather stayed in bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling above. Instead, I was treated to nonstop Hebrew, of which I could only interpret two words. Thus, when Eran and his friends were not saying “Caan (yes)” or “Lo (no),” I was utterly clueless on the topic of their conversations. All I could truly decipher was whether or not they agreed with what the other was saying (the caan-lo combo added an extra challenge to this game). Overall, it was an interesting journey filled with beautiful scenery, incomprehensible conversation, penguins (yes, penguins in Africa), and of course a man absolutely covered in his own blood, stumbling down the road attempting to fight any person in sight. Ahhh, what a day.

Onto this weeks lesson:

“Learn me something something about South Africa.”

This Week's Topic: Car Gods

No profession in the world is more demanding (and less paying) than that of a “Car God.” Responsible for watching over the parked cars on the road, protecting them from harm or danger, the Car God is a man of many skills. For a measly 1 – 2 rand (~$0.25), he promises to risk his own safety, as to protect your vehicle from potential damage or theft from criminals wandering the roads (or from the Car God himself, who sometimes interprets the 1 - 2 rands as a bribe not to steal your car).

Regardless of where you are in the city, once your car has been parked, you will find a Car God staring into your window, with eyes that only say “rand… rand… rand…” If you are lucky enough to arrive into the vicinity of a Car God before having parked, he will more than happily provide you with a course in drivers education, helping guide you, step-by-step, into a parallel parking spot (even if it is big enough to fit the Titanic). And when the directions are provided in the languages of Xhosa or Zulu, this of course makes the process that much more helpful. Who cares if there is a NO PARKING – TOW AWAY ZONE sign next to your spot? As long as you pay the Car God, there is “nothing to worry about brother.”

Thank you Car God. If it weren’t for that shiny green/orange vest you wear, I would swear I was being hijacked everytime I parked my car.

Onto the pics...

	Delicious mix of jello and seafood. What a combo
	Red and White wine (in case you are blind)
	The South African Emeril - Doesn't he look so happy that I interrupted his cooking as to pose for this patentedly setup picture (which of course did not even make the cut for the paper)?
	Me and my cardboard cutout friend Tony at the bah
	Hout Bay
	Some penguins wandering around Africa. Lucky guys.
	End of my journey to the southern most point of Africa