Trams, Turtles, and Tapping Out

(From April 24)

And just like that—your favorite blogger is twenty years old!! I’ve entered what could be one of the craziest, most exciting, most transformative decades of my life, but I’ll tell ya, it’s got a lot to live up to!

This weekend was hilarious and fun and exactly what I wanted. Yesterday was the day of my birthday celebration, and five friends and I ventured inland to Franschhoek (or French Corner in Afrikaans) wine country. Sally, Jenn, Caitlin, Dorothy, Izzy, and I booked tickets for a hop-on, hop-off wine tram through multiple vineyards tucked away in the mountains. We hopped in an Uber around 9:30 AM, donned with birthday hats and blowy-whistle things, courtesy of SalGal. Our tram left the station at 10:45 AM, and we arrived just a few minutes too late—we watched it pull away with our six empty seats. We rushed to the ticket stand, waiting for a worker to aid us, but they were honesty giving a ton of sass for being less than five minutes late for departure. In my personal opinion, they were way too uptight, considering their business depends on people who are willing to start drinking at 11 in the morning, but whatever. It ended up working out, and we hopped on an “overflow” tram to our first vineyard, Rickety Bridge. We enjoyed four wine tastings for only ten rand a person—that comes out to about sixty cents in US currency. Yes—sixty cents. We were off to a fabulous start.

We then hopped back on the tram with some extremely obnoxious, very offensive Cape Townians, but we ignored them as we enjoyed the flawless weather and sunshiney day. Remember, it’s the middle of fall here, so there’s a slight chill in the air as winter begins to creep up on the country. Since autumn is actually my favorite season, it was really nice to have my birthday be a fall birthday for once!

Our next stop was Chamonix, a stunning vineyard with a roaring fireplace and trees growing through the building. We enjoyed a delectable, five-star lunch with three bottles of wine between us and some complementary dessert for the birthday girl.

From there… things start to get a bit fuzzy. We engaged in another wine tasting, accompanied by a group of Cape Townians that included another 4/24 birthday person. We celebrated together, and they bought me a shot, and it was fine and dandy until drama began. I, of course, acquire rose-colored glasses after a few glasses of rosè, if you get what I mean, so I was completely unaware of the brewing disaster.

We stumbled back to the wine tram and boarded for our next vineyard, Dieu Donnes (or something). My group of six began to lose our composure, as one girl developed an allergic reaction and began sneezing on other individuals, another attempted to begin a conversation on touchy subjects with a man at our table, and two others raced down the vineyard rows with one toppling over after only a few steps. We were beginning our descent into madness.

We braved the scorn and stares and anger and began our trip to the final vineyard. Unbeknownst to me, one of the members of our group had a little incident upon which I shall not elaborate but which did lead to some yelling and the threat of being kicked off. Meanwhile, I snapchat videoed myself and Jenn dancing to music, completely unaware of any issues. By the time we arrived at Maison vineyard, our group had decisively been kicked off of the wine tour… But I still did not realize there was an issue, and I waltzed into the vineyard for my complimentary glass of wine. It wasn’t until 15 minutes later, when Dorothy came to retrieve me that the issue of expulsion dawned on me. I quickly chugged my final glass and skipped out to meet my friends.

Anyway, suffice it to say, we all got home safely and soundly, with scarcely a stain that a quick wash won’t take care of. I woke up this morning to some hilarious videos and photos that sent our group into peals of laughter.

I celebrated today (my real birthday!) with brunch, accompanied by four of yesterday’s companions. We experienced profoundly awful service and decisively adequate food, but the company was superb. Dorothy and I then rushed home to pick up our host sister, Liyema, to take her to the aquarium. Though she’d seemed excited the entire week, she lost all enthusiasm as soon as she entered the Uber. She spoke maybe five words over the next three hours, and Dorothy and I were pretty bummed that she didn’t show any enthusiasm at all whatsoever. So, that wasn’t too great, but hey—I still loved the aquarium, even though I’m 20 now!

Upon arriving back home, Dorothy and I both passed out completely and enjoyed a nap that was hours long. I also got to speak with my mom and dad on the phone, which was absolutely lovely and the best birthday present I received! Our entire program then attended a ceremony dinner to celebrate our homestay families from both Bo’kaap and Langa. It was slightly awkward, considering I’m 95% convinced my Bo’kaap homestay mother does not like me (she insulted/teased me, then didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night), but I love my Bo’kaap Papa and it was nice to hang out with friends. I didn’t particularly enjoy having Indian food for my birthday dinner, but I think that Thursday’s world-class, five-course meal and yesterday’s delicious lunch are my “real” birthday meals. I’m now home, hanging out and considering the craziness that I’ll be home, in my own bed, in eight short days.

Wow. I feel like I’ve been gone forever, and I can’t even begin to imagine what has changed since I’ve been home. I can’t wait to see my family’s faces and give them giant hugs and kiss my puppies. I think I’ll check out now, post a birthday Instagram, read my book, and think about how mature I am now that I’m 20 years old.

Cheers,

Aubrey

Mid-week Musings, Moscow Mules, and Matzah

(From April 22)

Wow—three entire days without a blog post! I have so much to catch you up on, but I’m also exhausted. So, this post may be more the bare facts with less elaboration than usual.

WEDNESDAY: A day I’d really been looking forward to. Our entire day of classes and site visits would revolve around public art, which had been one of my favorite units in Sao Paulo. I jumped out of bed, excited for the lecture and eventual drive to Woodstock, an adorable hippie/bourgeois area right outside the city center (and also site of the Old Biscuit Mill!). Unfortunately, the lecturer was less than stellar; she was one of those people that seemed to make edgy statements meant to make her seem intellectual that instead left me questioning her ability to actually engage in a sensible thought process. For example, she told us that “human beings are not always rational. Sometimes, they act in accordance to their wants and needs.” Such a comment leaves me wondering what exactly she thinks “rational” means if not acting to further one’s wants and needs.

But okay. Whatever. I can handle a screwy lecture (I’ve had enough of them on this trip to have cultivated a resistance, that’s for sure), and I was still looking forward to our walking tour on the art of Woodstock. We started with a highly intriguing discussion with a business owner in the area. He is about 180 degrees opposite from our normal speakers on IHP; he was pro-business, pro-capitalism, and pro-“pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” While I think I would have been absolutely wooed by his argument pre-IHP, I found myself mustering up criticism and remaining as critical of him as I have been of our past speakers. It’s incredible to me that I’ve gained this new honed ability to critically analyze everything I see, and hear, and experience, but it scares me a lot. I’m going home to my favorite place in the entire world in nine short days, and I’m terrified that my new way of seeing the world will leave me unsatisfied with home. But maybe such dissatisfaction will give me the passion and drive necessary to fix and change and improve the places around me. I don’t know—I’m conflicted, and anxious, and there are many too many thoughts whirling in my head.

Back to Woodstock.

Our walk about was okay, and I enjoyed seeing some of the art, but I wasn’t nearly as inspired as I had been in Sao Mateus, Brazil. We ended the afternoon at a Mexican restaurant with stale chips and sour guac, and all I wanted was to be back at Antonio’s in Anaheim, California. We began to wander the cafes of Woodstock on the hunt for functioning WiFi, and we were consistently left disappointed. I seriously could not connect to enough WiFi to upload my blog, and I attempted for about an hour and a half. I was left disgusted with my inability to connect to the world and to home—I still don’t understand how businesses and a country can function when they cannot even reliably contact and interface with one another and within itself.

I got back home so frustrated that I begged my mother to call me for just a few minutes on the (very expensive) international minutes package. “A few minutes” turned into a half hour, but I asked her to consider it an early birthday present to me. I got to talk to my entire fam, which was absolutely lovely and restored a bit of my sanity.

I finished my paper draft over the course of about an hour and a half, and I felt way less stressed after completing my final assignment of the semester. Woah.

THURSDAY: An extremely long day with the sweetest of endings. The entire class period of about eight hours was spent listening to eight-minute presentations by every single member of the class on his or her paper topic. While I opted to speak for very little time and keep it vague, as I didn’t want anybody to give feedback that would force me to actually change or edit my paper, others spoke overtime, and our day dragged on a bit. By the time I actually got back home, it was 4:30 PM, and I only had an hour to nap before what would turn out to be one of the coolest experiences of my life.

Sally, Geneva, Nina, and I booked reservations for this incredible underground restaurant called Spasie. Every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, about twenty people sit for a fixed-course menu by an up-and-coming South African chef. These chefs rotate every single week, so you’re never actually sure of who is going to cook your food and what you’ll eat. We were excited for the adventure, but we never could have guessed just how delectable this would be!

We got lost in our attempts to find the restaurant, until our Uber driver called out to a random security guard in the street, who directed us to an unbelievably indescript building with only an [S] symbol to indicate that it was Spasie. We were ushered down a dim hallway lit only by very romantic and mystical candles until entering into a stunning warehouse-turned restaurant with wood paneling, whimsical decorations, and more candles lighting the room. We sat down at our seats and read the amazing five-course menu with wine pairings. We enjoyed a smoked salmon appetizer, a roasted butternut and basil pesto soup, fish, roasted lamb, and brownie dessert with coffee ice cream—as well as five glasses of wine each, half a Moscow Mule, and a surprise Tequila Sunrise (brought out after a lovely rendition of Happy Birthday arranged by Sally and Geneva). I was literally scraping my plate after every single dish, and the wine loosened our tongues and inspired peals of laughter and increasingly chancy dares. At one point, we changed the music from Michael Buble to Rihanna’s “Work” and were immediately chastised by our waiters when we began to dance to the displeasure of many. The dancing was the displeasure, not the chastisement, for clarification. Over all, though, this was the best culinary experience of my entire life. And it cost only… Drumroll, please… SIXTY US DOLLARS. Unbelievable!!!

The wine and cocktails hit me hard though, and I distinctly remember lying in bed after getting home and being in awe at the ability of the window to spin with such velocity.

FRIDAY: I woke up this morning still slightly under the influence, but it faded quickly as I walked outside into the chilly air. It’s the ideal weather to cuddle at home under some blankets, and I was quite tempted to stay in my warm little enclave, but today was the day of the last lecture with one of my favorite leaders on our program, so I dragged myself out of bed. Kate, our lecturer today, gave an outstanding talk on Health in South Africa, which I found important in understanding not only this country but also my own. Wow, this program rocks sometimes.

We had a super short day today, and we finished with class by 11 AM. After a quick drop of my belongings and a bath (and one short episode of Sex in the City with SalGal), I headed into Observatory (a nearby WiFi-enabled neighborhood) with Sally and Geneva. We enjoyed connectivity for a few hours before heading back to Langa.

I dropped into bed for a twenty-minute nap before heading over to Alyssa’s house for a Passover meal. I felt myself slipping into the comfort of Israeli Shabbat, and the traditions and Hebrew songs made me yearn for the Morris household. They truly became my family!!! And I like to consider myself an honorary Jew at times. Maddy, one of the awesome people on my program and a fellow blogger, said something really touching at our dinner: this is her favorite holiday, she remarked, and though it’s hard to be away from home on this day, she feels as though we’ve become like family, and she truly appreciated our presence.

OKAY MADDY, I’M NOT CRYING OR ANYTHING.

It was really sweet, though, and it made me realize that these people really are like family. They drive me crazy, they make me roll my eyes, we disagree often—but they’re loyal, and funny, and adventurous; they make me smile and laugh and think; they dry my tears and validate my concerns and ideas; they are home in a far-away country. I will really miss these people…. But maybe only after a few months away from them!

I spent a few hours at Michael and Takudzwa’s house after the dinner, catching up on gossip and discussing this week’s lectures before I headed home. Dorothy and I had some good bonding—I can talk to her about anything!—and I’m about to catch some z’s before my birthday weekend!!! Wee!!!

Getting close to the end… Wow.

Love,

Aubrey

The Beginning of the Lasts

(From April 19)

Just like that I finish my last Monday and Tuesday as a teenager—WOW. This week will be chockfull of silly statements like that—last dinner, last chocolate bar, last shower, etc. Can you believe I’ll be 20 on Sunday? I surely can’t.

This is a week of “lasts” beyond that of the sunset of my childhood. It’s also our last week of classes, our last week of assignments, our last week of the real program… But that doesn’t mean they’re going easy on us. Indeed, it means pretty much the opposite.

Yesterday, we began a little after 8:30 AM and turned in our final Culture and Societies paper. I wrote a paper that could be seen as slightly controversial, considering it didn’t directly align with the Marxist agenda of my professor, but I can’t get myself to write such a paper even for a grade. Gotta stick by my ideals at least a bit, right? We enjoyed two lectures on Water and on the Environment, which fascinated me.

That’s been one really fabulous thing about these guest lectures through IHP—I’ve discovered numerous areas of study that I am engrossed by and which I may have never caught a glimpse of otherwise. Environmental conservation and studies, Latin American politics and history, African history… I’m so glad I have a final year at Harvard to explore all of these topics!

Our day wasn’t over after three full hours of lectures, though; after a long lunch in a WiFi-enabled town about fifteen minutes away, we returned for a three-hour lecture from some University of Cape Town graduate students. I felt completely ill about an hour and a half in and had to plead out of the final part of the discussion. I walked back home in a bit of a daze and collapsed into bed for two full hours. Luckily, after a filling and delectable dinner (per usual in this household), I felt much better.

I later skipped over to Sally’s house to hang out with her, Geneva, and their host brother, Neba. That kid is seriously hilarious. He is so mischievous—he’d throw a pillow at me or Sally and then pretend the other had thrown it, just trying to “rile” us up. He even hit me with a pillow right as I was walking out his door. But he’s also so sweet—after hearing that Sally hadn’t had the chance to watch the latest episode of her favorite soap opera, Neba rushed to put on the recording of the show for her pleasure. So cute!! Dorothy and I have also been getting along really well with our host sister, Liyema. Though she was extremely shy and quiet for the first week—I think I heard her speak a max of three words before Friday—she’s totally come out of her shell and now makes funny voices and tries to teach us Xhosa and is an all-around character. Dorothy and I can’t wait to take her to the aquarium on Sunday!

Though I’ve been venturing out of the house a bit to both the boys’ house (three of the five guys on our program) and to Sally’s house, I can never stay long. The houses are literally next door and across the street from mine, but my host mom comes to fetch me from their homes at 8:30 PM without fail. One night, I needed to drop off a converter at Michael, Takudza, and Alex’s home (the boys obv), and when I asked if it was okay for me to walk over (literally five seconds tops) she looked at me, horrified, and asked “do you feel safe???” I was completely taken aback and responded, “I don’t know—should I not??!” She ordered my nine-year-old host sister to accompany me for my own safety! Apparently, a girl on last semester’s program got mugged right in front of Sally and Geneva’s house—crazy. So, although it can be sad to say goodbye to my friends so early in the evening, it’s kind of funny and comforting to feel like a little kid again and to be so constantly watched out for by a mother figure.

Today was an interesting and cool but exhausting day. We started with a lecture on Labor this morning, followed by a three hour site visit to a clothing manufacturing factory just down the road. Being in this factory surprisingly felt a lot like home—the sound of sewing machines, the sights of cutting fabric—it was my mom’s sewing room! I knew quite a bit about the process of sewing and designing, which was rewarding.

Later, we had a big class discussion about labor—which, with the socialist/communist bend of the class and Michael’s extremely outspoken, positive views of free-market capitalism made for an *invigorating* debate. I hate confrontation of basically all types and prefer to absorb others’ comments and digest/grapple with them on my own time. That’s probably a terrible habit, as I should be more willing to debate others, but I don’t think it’s worth it with this group. The constant back-and-forth was honestly exhausting, and I dragged myself out of the room an hour and a half later planning on a nap. Instead, I ended up hanging out with Michael and Takudzwa for two hours until being joined by Sally for another full hour. I’ve realized with a start and with a great deal of sadness that saying hello to home and to the States and to sanity means saying goodbye some of my closest friends. I therefore aim to spend the next week and a half taking full advantage of their presence and relishing their humor, intellect, and adventurousness before we part ways.

I got home before dark (therefore, I wasn’t escorted) and I enjoyed my favorite soap opera and an awesome dinner before crawling into bed to write both this blog and my Open Letter for my Junior Year. It’s part three in my ongoing series that I obv won’t finish until next year. Get ready for another blog post all about me! (Surprise, surprise.)

Checking out now, though, for a full night’s sleep. Sweet dreams, dear friends!

Love,

Aubs

I Guess the Rains Down in Africa

Wow. I’m, like, speechless. This weekend was a whirlwind of childhood dreams come true, pampering and fake adulthood, strengthening of friendships and utter hilarity. Think Wildest Dreams meshed with Toto’s Africa with a sprinkling of I Love College.

Okay, so Sally, Caitlin, and I left around 9 AM Saturday morning in a private van with our driver, Garret. Though I’d been planning on napping and reading the entire ride, I had too much fun chatting with the girls and Garret (who told us that his favorite animal is “his wife”) to sit back in my seat for even a minute. We had a hilarious time, and our journey hadn’t even yet begun.

We arrived at Inverdoorn Game Reserve and Lodge around noon with a couple bottles of wine that we’d picked up at a nearby liquor store, because we obviously refused to be ripped off by the high prices of our Lodge. Garret lugged an entire box of our alcohol to our room for us, thinking that his official capacity as “chaperone and chauffer” (his words) would make the illicit alcohol less conspicuous. Meanwhile, Cait decided to upgrade from a Standard Room to a Luxury Chalet with some birthday money from her grandmother. The gigantic chalet (we literally didn’t go five minutes without using that word) had a television and opened up onto the rolling savanna, so we spent most of our free, non-safari time hanging out/drinking wine in the chalet. (Chalet chalet chalet chalet)

Before our safari, we sat on the porch, enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company, when a snooty English woman (who happened to be our chalet neighbor) threw us a disdainful glance. We apologized for our noise and asked if we needed to keep it down. She replied no, we were fine, but that’d we’d need to be quieter at nighttime. We immediately acquiesced and told her we’d see her at 3:30 PM for our ride. “Oh, I think you’re meeting at 3:30, but we’ve made… other arrangements,” she sniffed with a flippant wave in the air.

As soon as she retreated into her room, Cait, Sal, and I busted up. Caitlin, verbatim (as I remember it), remarked, “you guys. That lady is classy as f*ck. AND WE’RE IN THE SAME CHALET AS HER.”



Sally and I practically peed our pants laughing as Caitlin expanded on her remarks. “You know how I know she’s classy?” Cait asked rhetorically. “Because she’s made *othah arrangments*, she’s too good for us normal people,” she self-answered in a perfect imitation of the woman’s voice. It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed.

The three of us headed to the reception area for our *peasant, non-other* arrangements—aka an incredible!!! safari with driver Sean. We saw an unbelievable number of animals—lions, rhinos, water buffalo, wildebeest, giraffes, springbok (which Sally, Cait, and I enjoyed saying over and over), oryx (spelling???), and cheetahs. It was absolutely exhilarating and so fun. The weather was perfectly cloudy and crisp, so the animals were out to play. The landscape looked… well, kind of like what you might imagine a safari landscape to look like. Golden-yellow and tan shrubs sprouting out from the dry brown sand, interspersed low-lying green trees and shrubs with purple mountains rising formidably in the far distance. I felt so at peace and so happy.

Upon our return to the lodge, we watched Madagascar for a little while in our chalet before enjoying an incredible steak dinner then passing out rather early.

We woke up at 5:30 AM for our sunrise safari on which we were assured we’d see more “water” animals. It actually started drizzling/raining (I guess the rains down in Aaaafricaaaa), which was really refreshing and attracted more animals! We got to see a herd of zebra, more giraffes, water buffalo, rhinos (and a rhino baby!), and… Wait for it… ELEPHANTS. YES it’s true!!! It was amazing!! I just about sobbed seeing two beautiful, amazing, wonderful elephants chomping away at some tree branches. Such gorgeous creatures. It was the cherry on top of two wonderful safaris.

But wait. There’s more.

After resting for about an hour in our chalet after breakfast (and after talking to my mama with the WiFi!!!), Sally, Cait, and I experienced something pretty amazing called the Cheetah Encounter. We literally got to pet a cheetah and it was glorious. Velvet, the cheetah, was born in a really shady and corrupt breeding facility in which she and her siblings were terrible mistreated for the first few months of their lives. Luckily, Inverdoorn (our safari place) discovered this mistreatment and rescued these cheetah pups from death. They’ve rehabilitated Velvet’s brothers, but due to a tail injury sustained in the breeding facility, Velvet will never be fully released into the wild. Instead, she’s taken on walks, trained, fed with slow-moving animals, and introduced to visitors—like me!

In a crazy turn of events, the three of us were the only ones on this “public” meet and greet with Velvet, so we ended up having a private Cheetah Encounter. Snooty English woman had paid extra for a *private* arrangement with her cheetah, so I made sure to mention how excited I was that both of our groups had managed to have private encounters!!! (I think she hated me.)

It was such an incredible experience—truly once in a lifetime!!! It seems amazing that this is my life, that I’m living and learning in such breathtaking places—but it is. And I am. And I promise that I have not taken it for granted, nor will I. But I must admit—I will be excited to go home in two (TWO!!!) weeks.
But before that, I’ll be compiling a music video to the song “Africa”—I’m not joking.

Wish me luck for my last week of IHP classes!!!
With lots of lion love, elephant endearment, cheetah chest bumps,
Aubrey Noelle

Werk, Waddles, and (the Prospect of) Wilderness

(From April 15)

Honestly, on Wednesday morning, when I woke up to prepare for a full two days of school-related observation at a bus terminal, I didn’t expect to have that much fun over the next forty-eight hours. But, IHP always tells us to expect the unexpected, and surely enough, I ended up having one of the best IHP days thus far.

Okay, well, to be truthful, Wednesday was kind of a boring bummer of a day. I loved my group for my transport case study, but sitting and watching trains and buses go by isn’t my cup of tea. We hopped on a train to Bellville Station, the last station on whatever line we were riding, idk. We received some super pertinent information from Protection Services at the station, but I was distracted during the interview by the shocking realization that my wallet was not in my bag.

*GASP*

I was slightly panicking, as both of my debit cards and way too much cash were stuffed into this sunglasses case-turned-wallet, but I tried to breathe deeply and focus on the case study at hand without COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT like I wanted to. I also have this like weird internal karma system involving my possessions that I’m going to try to explain for the first time outside of my own head, so bear with me if it’s nonsensical. I have this theory that at certain moments, I should definitely have lost some important possession due to carelessness/theft/forgetfulness, and so when I check my belongings for my passport/cell phone/wallet, and it is there, I believe that some good karma has like saved me from losing my passport/cell phone/wallet. I always toss a little “thank you” into the cosmos to whichever karmic being has saved my life by watching out for my belongings. So, when my wallet seemed misplaced, I saw it more as a refill of my karmic bank (as I’d used it all up) than as a devastating loss. I took it in stride, called the restaurant at which I’d eaten the day before (wasn’t there), and prayed and hoped with all my might that my wallet would be at home, under my bed.

And guess what.

IT WAS.

Hallelujah, karmic being!! Hopefully the stress and worry and trust in karmic goodness refilled my karmic bank—but from now on, I’ll be obsessively checking my bag for my most precious belongings (just checked right now).

Because of how helpful and informative the workers at Bellville Station were, my group was able to gather all of the necessary facts and craft a PowerPoint presentation by 4 PM, meaning we had an entire free day (on Thursday) to do whatever we so pleased!!

I celebrated the revelation of a daycation with a long nap before a delicious dinner with my host fam and Dorothy. I finished Infinite Jest, almost cried because it was one of the worst conclusions to a book that I’ve ever had the displeasure of reading—I literally can’t even talk about it right now—and then went to sleep, excited to snuggle in bed long past my usual alarm.

Thursday, a day I’d expected to be full of grueling presentation prep, ended up being incredibly relaxing and wonderfully unique. A group of seven (including me!) set out for Simon’s Town, a region far south of Cape Town known for its beautiful beaches full of… PENGUINS! Yes!!! Wild African penguins populate Boulders Beach and waddle in between and around the awed humans of whom they seem to have no fear. Our excitement for the experience of chilling with penguins dimmed slightly as we attempted to finagle an actual way to get to Simon’s Town. We ended up taking a minibus to a train, transferred to another train, then took another minibus to get to the beach. #stress. It took us about two hours, and we were getting cranky and cramped and annoyed by the time we arrived at Boulders Beach for a take-away lunch.

But, all of the aggravation dissipated the second we hobbled down onto the sand and caught a view of the adorable penguins and the breathtaking beach—it was gonna be a great day.

I borrowed Sally’s sports bra and stripped down to my boyshort undies (because fuck the patriarchy, wear what you want) and laid out under the sun, soaking in the rays and listening to Zayn’s new songs and reading an amazing book. I listened to the penguins squawking and waddling, watched the turquoise waves crash over the huge gray boulders, felt the warmth on my skin, and I was happy and at peace. God, I love the beach. When I’m on the sand, when I smell the salt water, when I hear the gulls and absorb the sun, I am home—it doesn’t matter the continent or ocean or season!

Anyway, I totally enjoyed unwinding with my companions, as well as catching up with my mom and dad via videochat enabled by a nearby WiFi connection. Around 5 PM, we packed up and began a long 40-minute walk back to the Simon’s Town station. Lo and behold, though, a random minibus chugged over the hill, and we hailed it with the victorious hoots and hollers of a shipwrecked crew rescued by a passing barge. Our driver even offered to drive us back to Langa for about the price it would have cost for all of us to use disjointed public transportation to return home. Instead, this one driver took us back in a fraction of the time with none of the discomfort, and he dropped us right at our front doors. AMAZING.

Though it was only 7:30 PM, I had just enough energy to drag myself through the doorway of my house, scarf down a delicious fried chicken dinner, and burrow into my blankets for a ten-hour slumber. (Hence, my lack of post yesterday.)

The half-hour case study presentations took up most of this bright and sunny Friday, and my classmates and I sit restlessly in our windowed classroom, antsy for the beginning of what is sure to be an eventful, once-in-a-lifetime weekend. I’m writing this as my professors prepare us for the writing of our final project—a three thousand word paper covering one topic that spans the three cities which we have visited. To put this into context… I usually write at least four different three thousand word papers per final exam period. My paper for my Israeli internship (in which I also spent three months doing research) was about ten thousand words. So, one three thousand word essay, with an entire semester of collecting evidence and observations, is not exactly difficult. Or even stressful. In fact, I’ve already written 1,200 words in snatches of free time that I’ve been able to grab. This blog itself is over a thousand words!!! I think the most difficult part of writing this essay will actually be keeping it under three thousand words!

In just an hour, I’ll be sitting in on a book talk with the incredible Sonwa Ngowa, an educational aide to our class and published author. He’s written two fascinating books, and I can’t wait to listen to his descriptions and explanations of them!

I’ll then head home, per usual, perhaps work on my CA paper, read more of my favorite author (holla @ Michener), then go to sleep in preparation for this weekend.

Because… this weekend is…

MY SAFARI.

YES IT’S TRUE. Caitlin, Sally, and I are going on a safari this weekend!!!!!!! I am so excited I could CRY. In fact, I probably will. If I see a wild elephant… Oh my god, prepare for the waterworks.

So, I’ll get back to paying attention, and bide my time until giraffes and elephants and lions and Michener. WEE.

Love,
Aubrey

Full Circles

(From April 12)

My days in South Africa feel exceptionally, abnormally long. This was the case in Bo’Kaap, which lies in the heart of the City Centre, as we sat in classes from 8:30 AM to 4 PM and attempted to rally our energy, metaphorically slapping our cheeks and jogging in place, trying to fit in one museum, or one glass of wine, before retiring at home, exhausted, by 11 PM.

The story of long days rings even truer here in Langa. I feel as though the past 48 hours have been 480, as though I’ve been here for weeks instead of days. There are a few reasons, I think, for this phenomenon. First, as we wind down our program and celebrate/mourn the “last” class of this, our “last” community building session, our “last” whatever it is, I feel so many different feelings in the span of minutes and moments, it feels as though hours have passed. For instance, in one class yesterday, I felt a rage so potent it brought me to tears, I felt shocked at some revelations, I felt agreement and empathy with individuals with whom I’ve shared no such connection in the past three months… It’s as though my wheel of emotions and impulses has been gaining speed throughout the program and it’s now spinning so fast that I ricochet from glee to anger to sadness with barely enough time to actually register each feeling. So, that’s exhausting. We also have zero—zero—connectivity to WiFi here in Langa, meaning that I have almost nothing to do after class (which now ends at 2:30, of course, now that we are out of the city) except for read, write papers, and nap—all of which I engage myself in fully. I think that what I’m basically trying to get at with all of this rambling is that I can barely remember yesterday morning, so bear with me as I attempt to provide a full recount.

After the fitful sleep that characterizes almost every single first night in a homestay, Dorothy and I woke up to get ready for school. We ate breakfast with our host mom, and she then walked us to school. Along our route, we saw and met up with half of our program members; we all live so close together that our paths converge naturally. I observed my surroundings for the first time in daylight and was struck by its sheer familiarity. It felt like walking along the street in a Los Angeles suburb. The shrubby grass, the low one-story homes, the same open-space and open-air feeling of a neighborhood outside of the city, the kids playing in the street. Strangely, though this is meant to be our most impoverished and potentially difficult homestay site, it feels most like home to me. I think that will be helpful mentally in getting through the parts of staying in Langa that can be emotionally wearing.

As I stated, yesterday’s classes were pretty long and kind of exhausting; it’s hard to sit in the same spot for hours upon end without the distraction of a phone or passed notes. But, I really enjoyed the final lectures by those professors, and my final session of community building with the other twenty-nine students on the program was fun and touching and way less disastrous than past sessions.

Sally, Jenn, Michael, and I decided to explore our neighborhood for a few minutes before going home. We found the train station, some fast food restaurants, and a ShopRite grocery store in which I purchased chocolate and potato chips (aka the cornerstones of a healthy diet). When trying to exit the store, something in my stuffed backpack set off the alarm of the store. First of all, classic me, right? So I zipped open my bag and showed its contents to the completely ambivalent security guard, and he benignly waved me off with barely a glance. I feel like I experience moments of such confusion or weirdness quite often, and I never, I mean never, suffer any consequences from them—probably because I’m a young white woman who looks relatively innocent of pretty much anything. And yeah, obviously I am innocent—I haven’t stolen anything in my life, not counting a Blockbuster gift card that I mistakenly thought was a brochure when I was like six (that’s probs what sent them under, amirite). But how different would these encounters with law officials and authority figures be if I was, say, a black man, just as innocent of any crime but perhaps less believable by the establishment? Situations like this one really make me ponder my privilege a lot.

Anyways, that *traumatic* experience with law enforcement exhausted me, and so the four of us schlepped home, I for a nap. Sally, Michael, and I realized that we are all next-door-neighbors, which is extremely convenient in a neighborhood in which nobody (literally, nobody) can walk outside at night. When Dorothy tentatively asked if we could maybe just sit outside for some fresh air at nighttime, our host mother looked at her like she was out of her mind and emphatically answered, “NO.” Very comforting.

Dorothy and I napped pretty solidly until dinner time (which was so yummy) and shared dessert, Smencils, and commentary on some reality television show with our host family. We retreated to our rooms for a few hours of silent reading time (Dorothy and I are a homestay pair made in heaven) before crashing.

This morning on our way to school, Dorothy and I met a fascinating and super inspiring Langa resident named Lowelo. So six years ago, the shed in which Langa residents deposited their waste burned to the ground, and the city (as far as I can understand) dragged its feet in replacing this shed or providing any viable option for trash collection for this neighborhood. Lowelo and some friends then decided to start their own business in which they’re paid directly by residents and then collect the trash and clean the receptacles every single week. I was so inspired by his initiative and kindness and hard work that I actually wrote a paper on him today! These are the stories I’d never hear were I not actually living in these cities and learning through experience. (Just trying to validate my study abroad experience, don’t mind me.)

Today was a much shorter day—we had a lecture, in which I came up with some pretty sick post-program resolutions that I’m really excited about, and then a panel with some social justice community members. My favorite part of the day, however, was an optional lecture with the head of our country program, Sally Frankental, on the history of Jews in South Africa. Since I jokingly refer to myself as an “honorary Jew” due to my three-month stay in Israel with the Morris family (still my surrogate family, love you guys), I felt like it was my duty (and honestly, my pleasure) to learn about Jewish culture in this country. I sat there enthralled for a full hour and a half; it was probably in my top three favorite lectures of this entire trip, and it was optional, of course. I was super proud of myself when I was the only person able to answer the year of the first Zionist conference in the world (1897) and the leader of the conference (Herzl) due to my day at the Herzl museum with three members of the Morris family back in July (you guys rock). Seriously crazy how worlds collide.

That also reminds me of this morning, as Dorothy and I sat watching the South African news with our host mom. We were each reading the little news bulletins scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and we realized that we could basically understand and/or empathize with every single piece of news! Brazil’s Congress pushes for impeachment—yep, we were there. India condemns five individuals for the desecration of a temple—we studied religious dissent in India for a whole month! And finally, the Gujarati cricket team beat the Punjabi team—Ahmedabad is in Gujarati, and though I don’t understand a single rule of cricket, I know where that state is!!!!!!! I have truly been inspired to become and remain a world citizen because of this program, and that makes me feel absurdly blessed.

After the lecture with Sally, a group of us students headed into the nearby town of Observatory, which is about six subway stops away, for some WiFi connectivity. (Yes, we are desperate.) I went through my 101 emails, about five of which were actually relevant; caught up on Facebook; and talked to my dad on the phone for a solid ten minutes—all good things! I returned home, napped, ate dinner, finished a paper, and then took a shower… Kind of.

So the shower nozzle in my homestay is broken and as a result, we can only take baths. Okay, I’m moderately disgusted by the idea of taking baths, as you’re kind of just sitting in your own filth, and so I’ve been struggling with a way to actually get clean by just kind of splashing water on myself when, finally, I realized today the perfect strategy.

Bucket shower.

Yes, my friends, I found myself a bucket and resumed my Indian habit of showering by pouring water all over my body. As Sally (my best friend, not the coordinator, quipped), I’ve come full circle. And yeah, it’s true. I really have.

From my emotional circle that is wildly out of control, to my non-WiFi life (that I’ve actually come to somewhat appreciate), to my feelings of hope and excitement for the future after a few months of despair and gloom and anxiety, to—yes—bucket showers, I really do feel like I’ve come full circle—but with all of the knowledge and maturity and experience of traversing that entire circle.

Can’t wait to see where I finish up.

tOOdles (two circles, get it),
Aubrey

Finishing in the City Center

(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