(From April 10)
This was really a wonderful weekend. I got to know more urban parts of Cape Town, as well as a sobering historical site and the most delicious brunch place around. I’m falling in love with this city.
My burgeoning love really began to blossom on Saturday morning, when Sally, Jenn, Izzy, Savannah, and I hitched an Uber over to the Old Biscuit Mill. We’d been told that it’s a sort of food market, and I was expecting a farmer’s market sort of thing with tons of fresh veggies and fruit straight from the vine/tree/root. Boy, was I misled. The Mill was more of a hip, bourgeois, Santa Monica-ish outdoor fair market thing that absolutely, 100% hooked me in. Adorable clothes, rugged jewelry, wine by the glass for only $2, and stall after stall of specialty foods filled the converted biscuit mill. It had kept its rugged brick walls but abandoned its roof to embrace the cloudless sky, and the installation of a zany fountain with brass buckets and some cool contraptions encapsulated the alternative vibe. My friends and I wandered through the food stalls, tasting delectable latkes, dim sum, fresh sandwiches (that one was me), fried mac and cheese balls, soft pretzels (me again), glasses of South African wine (me twice), and alcoholic slushies (you guessed it—me).
Izzy and I chatted with the woman working the wine stall, and we learned that she actually hails from Ohio and is at the University of Cape Town for her Master’s degree. The three of us discussed travelling, and I gave her some advice on her upcoming trip to India, when I suddenly realized—I can give people advice on travelling to India. I can give people tidbits on what restaurant to visit, which Airbnb to avoid, which tour guide to recommend, in numerous countries on five continents. Oh my god. I think that was the moment that I realized, for real, the extent of my travels and the incredible way in which the world has truly become my home. I’ve fallen in love with countries and with people and places along the way, and I’m amazed at how lucky I am to have travelled to and lived in so many places in such a short amount of time. Ten countries in under a year… Wow.
BUT enough nostalgia for now—that’ll come in my final post!! I think that our conversation warmed our wine-pourer to us, and she gave us rather generous ‘glasses’ that probably were at least two glasses-worth of wine in each one. Feeling good and buzzed, I flounced over to the clothing market and surprisingly handed over no money for any clothes or jewelry (I did slyly fork over my phone number, but that’s a different story). We finished our time at the Mill with a screwdriver slushie and hopped in an Uber to get to the waterfront.
The waterfront was so beautiful, but we had little time to enjoy it, as we quickly boarded a boat to Robben Island. The ride itself was about forty-five minutes, and I enjoyed both the fresh breeze and ocean views as I read my book and relaxed in the shade. Upon landing, Sally and I realized that about ten other IHP students had booked the same tour as us—so we had a bit of an American student takeover on our tour bus! We first spent forty-five minutes in a large tour bus on the edges of the island, seeing the village and amenities of the former prison, as well as a penguin colony and a really gorgeous panorama of Table Mountain and the coast of Cape Town. The more sobering half of the experience was a tour through the actual prison with a former Robben Island prisoner. Listening to his horrific tales of torture, resistance, and eventual freedom made me both sick with the evil of humanity as well as hopeful for the strength and resilience of humans. It was also so inspiring to listen to a former prisoner. He literally took us into his old cell and recounted his experiences. It’s difficult to comprehend the mental and emotional strength that an individual must possess to give tours of such a painful site to numerous tourists, but I admired it even if I couldn’t fully understand it. I am forever indebted to his fortitude, as it gave me the opportunity to learn about a painful, repressive history.
After such a difficult experience, it was so pleasant to watch the sun’s orange-red glow leak into the gorgeous indigo ocean. I’d so missed watching the sun set on the water, and it makes me even more eager to get back to the Pacific and enjoy the familiar sight from my favorite beaches! I really savored the end of the day, though, and tried to emanate my gratitude for the beauty and history to which I’d been exposed into the open sea air.
That night, I took a “nap” at 8:30 PM that turned into a full night’s sleep, obviously. Really lived it up on my last Saturday in Bo’Kaap!
I woke up early-ish this morning and read Infinite Jest for a few hours before walking down the hill to a little brunch place called Clarke’s for some food and (more importantly) some WiFi. I ended up running into like four or five other IHPer’s, which was just so fun and made me feel really at home in the city. I also enjoyed catching up with the outside world over the most delicious breakfast I’ve had in a really long time. Avocado goat cheese toast and a heaping bowl of oranges, figs, pomegranate seeds, mango, etc. etc. I was overwhelmed by the fresh, healthy, filling scrumptiousness in front of me. I even took a picture for Instagram—that’s how pretty it was!!! It was a fabulous morning.
I trekked back up the hill around 1 PM for an extremely intricate seafood lunch prepared all day by my host mother. The whole family came over to the house to either say goodbye to me and Savannah or simply to enjoy the food—I couldn’t tell which! By 2 PM, though, I was practically fainting from the heat, and I laid in bed sweating and half-heartedly fanning myself with a bookmark as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
At 5:30, Savannah and I said our goodbyes to our host mother (our host father had left long before to head to the beach) and hightailed it down to the bus waiting to transport us to our next and final homestay destination—Langa.
A few words about the little information I know so far about Langa. Langa is the oldest and the smallest black township in Cape Town. Back during apartheid, racial segregation of housing led to the displacement of millions of non-white South Africans, and townships were created to house these men, women, and children outside of city centers. Though apartheid is legally over, its legacy as far as spatial segregation lives on in that numerous families have continued to reside in their designated townships. Langa has a bad reputation in the city. When conversing with Cape Townians in the city center, they’d always get a rather horrified, worried look on their faces when we informed them of our homestay. We’d reassure them that we’d be with homestay families and that we’d been well-versed in necessary measures, and they’d resignedly but still anxiously impart us with the well-meaning advice of “Stay safe.”
All of this build-up led to a bit of anxiety as we rode in the bus to the township. We turned left off of the freeway into the neighborhood, and I scanned the streets incessantly, hoping to intake all of the visual information that I could. Little kids ran along the sidewalks and played games, stray dogs (that looked nice and well-fed!) nosed through grass on empty lots, and numerous city centers brightly and proudly proclaimed services. We pulled into Lovelife Center, the location of our classes for the next two weeks. We were ushered into a main room with chairs and drums and were treated to an uplifting, hand-clapping, smile-inducing musical performance with traditional South African and Zimbabwean instruments. It was truly so fun and joyful and alleviated a lot of my worries about Langa (as I’m sure it was meant to).
I also realized a few things about my community while sitting there in that room as it reverberated with music and good-natured laughs. First of all, thank god for Jenn. I think we exchanged like 10 words over the span of an hour and still managed to communicate five worries, three secrets, numerous inside jokes, and summer plans through finishing each other’s sentences, communicative looks, and small nudges. She’s one of the handful of lifelong friends that I’ve made on this program. And as I looked around the room, at the faces of about half of my peers, I felt so warm and fuzzy and excited to enjoy these last few weeks of travelling and decades of memories with them. The other half… It was strange. I’d spent the same amount of time in classes with them and had afforded them the same opportunities to befriend as I had the other men and women with whom I feel so close. And yet… I felt, if not outright dislike, at least a sort of ambivalence toward them. And guess what—I think that’s okay. I think that’s good. I’m glad I haven’t just allowed myself to follow the sway of noncommittal friendliness and instead really sought out individuals with whom I can laugh and enjoy myself and feel comfortable and candid. I think that the strength of my feelings (both positive and negative) are signs that I’m asserting myself in the right way and that I’m finding the right people with whom to surround myself. Yay Aubs!
Dorothy (my new homestay partner) and I followed our homestay mom and her granddaughter back to the house around 7 PM, following the conclusion of the welcome ceremony. I about passed out carrying my gigantic body bag through the streets of Langa, and my hips were literally aching by the time we breathlessly pushed through the door of the house. We quickly set our stuff in our rooms, then enjoyed a fantastic dinner with the aforementioned two family members and our home stay sister while watching “Our Perfect Wedding.” I already love having Dorothy as a home stay partner, because she’s so kindly straightforward and talkative and interesting that she engages our homestay family while I can sit and listen and try to get over my intial shyness. She is also fab to talk to, and we have a similar love for books, so I think that there will be many a silent nights of just reading in our room.
I have some initial feelings about Langa that I could share, but I’d rather give it at least a full day before I make any judgments, either good or bad or what have you. It’d be too weird to make any statements about a neighborhood when I’ve been here less than four hours and not even in daylight!
So, I bid you adieu, and I hope you had as wonderful a weekend as I did!
Much love,
Aubrey
This was really a wonderful weekend. I got to know more urban parts of Cape Town, as well as a sobering historical site and the most delicious brunch place around. I’m falling in love with this city.
My burgeoning love really began to blossom on Saturday morning, when Sally, Jenn, Izzy, Savannah, and I hitched an Uber over to the Old Biscuit Mill. We’d been told that it’s a sort of food market, and I was expecting a farmer’s market sort of thing with tons of fresh veggies and fruit straight from the vine/tree/root. Boy, was I misled. The Mill was more of a hip, bourgeois, Santa Monica-ish outdoor fair market thing that absolutely, 100% hooked me in. Adorable clothes, rugged jewelry, wine by the glass for only $2, and stall after stall of specialty foods filled the converted biscuit mill. It had kept its rugged brick walls but abandoned its roof to embrace the cloudless sky, and the installation of a zany fountain with brass buckets and some cool contraptions encapsulated the alternative vibe. My friends and I wandered through the food stalls, tasting delectable latkes, dim sum, fresh sandwiches (that one was me), fried mac and cheese balls, soft pretzels (me again), glasses of South African wine (me twice), and alcoholic slushies (you guessed it—me).
Izzy and I chatted with the woman working the wine stall, and we learned that she actually hails from Ohio and is at the University of Cape Town for her Master’s degree. The three of us discussed travelling, and I gave her some advice on her upcoming trip to India, when I suddenly realized—I can give people advice on travelling to India. I can give people tidbits on what restaurant to visit, which Airbnb to avoid, which tour guide to recommend, in numerous countries on five continents. Oh my god. I think that was the moment that I realized, for real, the extent of my travels and the incredible way in which the world has truly become my home. I’ve fallen in love with countries and with people and places along the way, and I’m amazed at how lucky I am to have travelled to and lived in so many places in such a short amount of time. Ten countries in under a year… Wow.
BUT enough nostalgia for now—that’ll come in my final post!! I think that our conversation warmed our wine-pourer to us, and she gave us rather generous ‘glasses’ that probably were at least two glasses-worth of wine in each one. Feeling good and buzzed, I flounced over to the clothing market and surprisingly handed over no money for any clothes or jewelry (I did slyly fork over my phone number, but that’s a different story). We finished our time at the Mill with a screwdriver slushie and hopped in an Uber to get to the waterfront.
The waterfront was so beautiful, but we had little time to enjoy it, as we quickly boarded a boat to Robben Island. The ride itself was about forty-five minutes, and I enjoyed both the fresh breeze and ocean views as I read my book and relaxed in the shade. Upon landing, Sally and I realized that about ten other IHP students had booked the same tour as us—so we had a bit of an American student takeover on our tour bus! We first spent forty-five minutes in a large tour bus on the edges of the island, seeing the village and amenities of the former prison, as well as a penguin colony and a really gorgeous panorama of Table Mountain and the coast of Cape Town. The more sobering half of the experience was a tour through the actual prison with a former Robben Island prisoner. Listening to his horrific tales of torture, resistance, and eventual freedom made me both sick with the evil of humanity as well as hopeful for the strength and resilience of humans. It was also so inspiring to listen to a former prisoner. He literally took us into his old cell and recounted his experiences. It’s difficult to comprehend the mental and emotional strength that an individual must possess to give tours of such a painful site to numerous tourists, but I admired it even if I couldn’t fully understand it. I am forever indebted to his fortitude, as it gave me the opportunity to learn about a painful, repressive history.
After such a difficult experience, it was so pleasant to watch the sun’s orange-red glow leak into the gorgeous indigo ocean. I’d so missed watching the sun set on the water, and it makes me even more eager to get back to the Pacific and enjoy the familiar sight from my favorite beaches! I really savored the end of the day, though, and tried to emanate my gratitude for the beauty and history to which I’d been exposed into the open sea air.
That night, I took a “nap” at 8:30 PM that turned into a full night’s sleep, obviously. Really lived it up on my last Saturday in Bo’Kaap!
I woke up early-ish this morning and read Infinite Jest for a few hours before walking down the hill to a little brunch place called Clarke’s for some food and (more importantly) some WiFi. I ended up running into like four or five other IHPer’s, which was just so fun and made me feel really at home in the city. I also enjoyed catching up with the outside world over the most delicious breakfast I’ve had in a really long time. Avocado goat cheese toast and a heaping bowl of oranges, figs, pomegranate seeds, mango, etc. etc. I was overwhelmed by the fresh, healthy, filling scrumptiousness in front of me. I even took a picture for Instagram—that’s how pretty it was!!! It was a fabulous morning.
I trekked back up the hill around 1 PM for an extremely intricate seafood lunch prepared all day by my host mother. The whole family came over to the house to either say goodbye to me and Savannah or simply to enjoy the food—I couldn’t tell which! By 2 PM, though, I was practically fainting from the heat, and I laid in bed sweating and half-heartedly fanning myself with a bookmark as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
At 5:30, Savannah and I said our goodbyes to our host mother (our host father had left long before to head to the beach) and hightailed it down to the bus waiting to transport us to our next and final homestay destination—Langa.
A few words about the little information I know so far about Langa. Langa is the oldest and the smallest black township in Cape Town. Back during apartheid, racial segregation of housing led to the displacement of millions of non-white South Africans, and townships were created to house these men, women, and children outside of city centers. Though apartheid is legally over, its legacy as far as spatial segregation lives on in that numerous families have continued to reside in their designated townships. Langa has a bad reputation in the city. When conversing with Cape Townians in the city center, they’d always get a rather horrified, worried look on their faces when we informed them of our homestay. We’d reassure them that we’d be with homestay families and that we’d been well-versed in necessary measures, and they’d resignedly but still anxiously impart us with the well-meaning advice of “Stay safe.”
All of this build-up led to a bit of anxiety as we rode in the bus to the township. We turned left off of the freeway into the neighborhood, and I scanned the streets incessantly, hoping to intake all of the visual information that I could. Little kids ran along the sidewalks and played games, stray dogs (that looked nice and well-fed!) nosed through grass on empty lots, and numerous city centers brightly and proudly proclaimed services. We pulled into Lovelife Center, the location of our classes for the next two weeks. We were ushered into a main room with chairs and drums and were treated to an uplifting, hand-clapping, smile-inducing musical performance with traditional South African and Zimbabwean instruments. It was truly so fun and joyful and alleviated a lot of my worries about Langa (as I’m sure it was meant to).
I also realized a few things about my community while sitting there in that room as it reverberated with music and good-natured laughs. First of all, thank god for Jenn. I think we exchanged like 10 words over the span of an hour and still managed to communicate five worries, three secrets, numerous inside jokes, and summer plans through finishing each other’s sentences, communicative looks, and small nudges. She’s one of the handful of lifelong friends that I’ve made on this program. And as I looked around the room, at the faces of about half of my peers, I felt so warm and fuzzy and excited to enjoy these last few weeks of travelling and decades of memories with them. The other half… It was strange. I’d spent the same amount of time in classes with them and had afforded them the same opportunities to befriend as I had the other men and women with whom I feel so close. And yet… I felt, if not outright dislike, at least a sort of ambivalence toward them. And guess what—I think that’s okay. I think that’s good. I’m glad I haven’t just allowed myself to follow the sway of noncommittal friendliness and instead really sought out individuals with whom I can laugh and enjoy myself and feel comfortable and candid. I think that the strength of my feelings (both positive and negative) are signs that I’m asserting myself in the right way and that I’m finding the right people with whom to surround myself. Yay Aubs!
Dorothy (my new homestay partner) and I followed our homestay mom and her granddaughter back to the house around 7 PM, following the conclusion of the welcome ceremony. I about passed out carrying my gigantic body bag through the streets of Langa, and my hips were literally aching by the time we breathlessly pushed through the door of the house. We quickly set our stuff in our rooms, then enjoyed a fantastic dinner with the aforementioned two family members and our home stay sister while watching “Our Perfect Wedding.” I already love having Dorothy as a home stay partner, because she’s so kindly straightforward and talkative and interesting that she engages our homestay family while I can sit and listen and try to get over my intial shyness. She is also fab to talk to, and we have a similar love for books, so I think that there will be many a silent nights of just reading in our room.
I have some initial feelings about Langa that I could share, but I’d rather give it at least a full day before I make any judgments, either good or bad or what have you. It’d be too weird to make any statements about a neighborhood when I’ve been here less than four hours and not even in daylight!
So, I bid you adieu, and I hope you had as wonderful a weekend as I did!
Much love,
Aubrey
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