Okay - so we've been blogging losers, and we've missed a couple days. We are, however, alive and well. We're headed to the Okavango Delta this morning and aren't certain we'll have any communication channels for the next 4-5 days. After that, we'll be in Johannesburg for a night, where we'll catch you all up on our adventures . . .
Oh, for those of you playing along at home, Sanjay's pant count is now down 1 as well . . . his blue jeans mysteriously vanished into the bush surrounding Tongabezi. Most likely, a fashion-conscious baboon is sporting a new pair of Calvins in a nearby tree.
Actually, while that's a joke, it's most likely that one of the staff needed a new pair of pants :(
Friday, January 5, 2007
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
In the Presence of Angels
On to Zambia.
This morning we awoke (actually, I awoke, Sanjay never slept having blogged and uploaded photos all night) around 4:30am. We were picked up by the nicest taxi driver ever (actually, there seem to be alot of those in Cape Town) who pointed out the sights as we took the 20-minute ride to the airport. In particular, he introduced us to Stinky Towers, 2 broken down old power towers outside of town that are across the street from a sanitation plant - thus the name. He looked like Josh, and called us "lucky buggers" as we described the rest of our itinerary to him.
We boarded our plane to Johannesburg without incident, and once there we shopped for a couple of minutes during our layover. We both got flip flops in preparation for our Tanzania bucket showers, and I got sunglasses for safari, since I seem to have lost my superstar Prada pair.
From Johannesburg, we caught our flight to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe on British Airways. This is an airline that takes its carry-on rules seriously and, even though they would have easily fit, they took our carry-on bags which include our necessities and expensive items like Sanjay's insanely awesome camera. There was a moment of terror as we were, after all, flying into Zimbabwe, and we had no idea what might happen to our checked luggage, let alone the bare necessities we'd crammed into our carry-ons. As it turns out, the fear was unnecessary (as most of my fears seem to have been so far), because our bags were waiting at the bottom of the stairs when we disembarked. (Another unnecessary fear was the weather - though wunderground had prophesied thunderstorms at Victoria Falls, the skies were clear, blue and beautiful.)
Waiting for us at the airport was Roy, a very friendly Zimbabwean tour guide, who was prepared to take us directly to our lodge in Zambia, Tongabezi. That was, until he suggested that we co
uld get a better view of Victoria Falls from Zimbabwe than from Zambia. As soon as he did, Sanjay and I both looked at our passports to realize we had only a double entry visa (which meant we could only come back to the country to catch our outbound flight). So, if we wanted to see the falls from Zimbabwe, it had to be today. So we asked Roy to make a quick diversion to the falls, which he gladly did.
Victoria Falls was incredible. I don't have language to describe it, so I'll let the photos speak for themselves. Suffice it to say there were two rainbows (Ashlee-"it's a double, it's a double"), and butterflies everywhere. Angels were present. (For those of you who don't know, at my brother's wake, there we
re two rainbows in the sky and, shortly after his death, there was an infestation of butterflies on my mom's back porch. Since then, these two signs let me know he's around. He seems to be whenever I travel :) The scale and magnitude of the falls cannot be fully grasped from the photo - there are literally almost 2 miles of continuous, powerful waterfalls.
After our quick tour, we comtinued our drive toward Zambia. We saw several locals carrying items on their heads, and a young boy, maybe 12, sweating profusely as he diligently pushed a cart full of what looked to be equal to 25 10-pound bags of potatoes up the middle of the road.
Finally, we headed across the Zimbabwe border again, despite everything I'd prepared myself for, without incident - and then into Zambia to Tongabezi. At the border, we did see a troop of baboons, including several baby baboons, as well as some vervet monkies. They were literally no more than 10 feet from our car!
Tongabezi is heaven. It has a quiet and serenity I don't think I've ever experienced. Our small cabin, which is open via screened enclosure, opens onto the banks of the Zambezi river - where hippos play and crocodiles lie in wait. We were assigned a valet, Given, upon our arrival, who takes care of whatever we need - from drinks to laundry to scheduling activities. He is a kind little man who goes out of his way to be helpful.
To end the day, we ate outside on a terrace facing the Zambezi, serenaded by a choir of local voices. The meal was very western (I had pork loin and potatoes), with one dish - I think called nshashi - or something like that - that's a ground corn meal - almost a cross between polenta and grits. Interesting. We started with a very yummy soup though made of fresh tomatoes and ginger.
Well, I suppose that's it for tonight - I'm still fighting off Sanjay's plague. Keep reading - tomorrow's our first game drive - you never know what we might see . . .
PS - Ashlee, in response to your comment, we managed to catch a couple minutes of the Carnival parade as it passed by the District Six museum. The level of revelry, and the costumes and dancing were the same as the competition the day before, so fear not - we caught what we needed.
This morning we awoke (actually, I awoke, Sanjay never slept having blogged and uploaded photos all night) around 4:30am. We were picked up by the nicest taxi driver ever (actually, there seem to be alot of those in Cape Town) who pointed out the sights as we took the 20-minute ride to the airport. In particular, he introduced us to Stinky Towers, 2 broken down old power towers outside of town that are across the street from a sanitation plant - thus the name. He looked like Josh, and called us "lucky buggers" as we described the rest of our itinerary to him.
We boarded our plane to Johannesburg without incident, and once there we shopped for a couple of minutes during our layover. We both got flip flops in preparation for our Tanzania bucket showers, and I got sunglasses for safari, since I seem to have lost my superstar Prada pair.
From Johannesburg, we caught our flight to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe on British Airways. This is an airline that takes its carry-on rules seriously and, even though they would have easily fit, they took our carry-on bags which include our necessities and expensive items like Sanjay's insanely awesome camera. There was a moment of terror as we were, after all, flying into Zimbabwe, and we had no idea what might happen to our checked luggage, let alone the bare necessities we'd crammed into our carry-ons. As it turns out, the fear was unnecessary (as most of my fears seem to have been so far), because our bags were waiting at the bottom of the stairs when we disembarked. (Another unnecessary fear was the weather - though wunderground had prophesied thunderstorms at Victoria Falls, the skies were clear, blue and beautiful.)
Waiting for us at the airport was Roy, a very friendly Zimbabwean tour guide, who was prepared to take us directly to our lodge in Zambia, Tongabezi. That was, until he suggested that we co
uld get a better view of Victoria Falls from Zimbabwe than from Zambia. As soon as he did, Sanjay and I both looked at our passports to realize we had only a double entry visa (which meant we could only come back to the country to catch our outbound flight). So, if we wanted to see the falls from Zimbabwe, it had to be today. So we asked Roy to make a quick diversion to the falls, which he gladly did.
Victoria Falls was incredible. I don't have language to describe it, so I'll let the photos speak for themselves. Suffice it to say there were two rainbows (Ashlee-"it's a double, it's a double"), and butterflies everywhere. Angels were present. (For those of you who don't know, at my brother's wake, there we
re two rainbows in the sky and, shortly after his death, there was an infestation of butterflies on my mom's back porch. Since then, these two signs let me know he's around. He seems to be whenever I travel :) The scale and magnitude of the falls cannot be fully grasped from the photo - there are literally almost 2 miles of continuous, powerful waterfalls.After our quick tour, we comtinued our drive toward Zambia. We saw several locals carrying items on their heads, and a young boy, maybe 12, sweating profusely as he diligently pushed a cart full of what looked to be equal to 25 10-pound bags of potatoes up the middle of the road.
Finally, we headed across the Zimbabwe border again, despite everything I'd prepared myself for, without incident - and then into Zambia to Tongabezi. At the border, we did see a troop of baboons, including several baby baboons, as well as some vervet monkies. They were literally no more than 10 feet from our car!Tongabezi is heaven. It has a quiet and serenity I don't think I've ever experienced. Our small cabin, which is open via screened enclosure, opens onto the banks of the Zambezi river - where hippos play and crocodiles lie in wait. We were assigned a valet, Given, upon our arrival, who takes care of whatever we need - from drinks to laundry to scheduling activities. He is a kind little man who goes out of his way to be helpful.
To end the day, we ate outside on a terrace facing the Zambezi, serenaded by a choir of local voices. The meal was very western (I had pork loin and potatoes), with one dish - I think called nshashi - or something like that - that's a ground corn meal - almost a cross between polenta and grits. Interesting. We started with a very yummy soup though made of fresh tomatoes and ginger.
Well, I suppose that's it for tonight - I'm still fighting off Sanjay's plague. Keep reading - tomorrow's our first game drive - you never know what we might see . . .
PS - Ashlee, in response to your comment, we managed to catch a couple minutes of the Carnival parade as it passed by the District Six museum. The level of revelry, and the costumes and dancing were the same as the competition the day before, so fear not - we caught what we needed.
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Jackass Penguins
This morning we woke up bright and early to catch a morning tour of the Cape Point area, where the Cape of Good Hope is. Cape Point is as far south as you can get on land in Africa and this also happens to be where the colder Atlantic and warmer Indian oceans converge. We were both pretty tired since we got back from the casino late last night and I know Pinot Gringo stayed up even later to write in her blog. The tour van picked us up from our hotel at and we got on and said hello to the 6 other European tourists onboard and the most boring guide you could ever imagine. She had a thick Dutch accent and drove like a maniac to get us back in time so that she could leave with a new set of passengers for her afternoon tour. (Stacey failed to mention in her previous blog that I despise bus/van tours ever since I took them in Costa Rica which is why I had her cancel her pre-arranged plans - you are basically a prisoner in a vehicle that is not comfortable, with a bunch of people you couldn't care less about, and they make every stop known to man to pick up and drop off passengers.)Highlights of the Cape Point Tour:
- There are wild troops of baboons on the road to the Point, they are quite agressive when it comes to food and they are the only known primates that scavenge for seafood on the beach. Sorry guys, no good "Sanjay was attacked by wild baboons"story here - although we still have some safari left to go for this to happen.
- Cape Point. The view from here is spectacular! The point is actually on the top of a cliff so we took a funicular (basically an enclosed cable car on a steep slope) up and from there, you had a 360 degree. It was truly surreal to know that you are at the tip of a huge continent with nothing but ocean until you get to Antarctica.
- Boulders Beach. This beach is known for its colony of African penguins, also known as jackass penguins because they make donkey-like cries. They are very cute! It's so cool to see penguins in an environment like that - its like these guys are on spring break from the South Pole.
After our frenzied dash around the Cape, we asked to be dropped off at the District 6 museum instead of our hotel. (We also canceled our afternoon van tour throuh the wine country because there was no way we wanted to do another guided van tour; Stacey said she would have gone insane if we had gone on the tours she had planned the previous day.) District 6 is one of the most polarizing (and sad) stories about Apartheid. District 6 was an area of Capetown populated by blacks and coloured. In the 50s, laws were passed and the area was declared a whites-only neighborhood; the government forcibly evicted everyone and tore down their houses. The museum has a lot of personal artifacts and stories from the people that were forced out. It's quite humbling to hear what people have had to go through.
Afterwards, we took a cab from the museum to Table Mountain. Table Mountain is this great, flat-top mountain that is right in the heart of Capetown. We rode the Cable Way up to the top - a cable way is a round people mover that is pulled up by a single cable - it's actually quite frightening when you think about it. Anyways, we got up there and decided to do a 2 hour hike on the mountain. We had some spectacular views of Cape Town and the surrounding areas from up here. After we got back down the mountain, it was time for dinner so we decided to get one last western meal before heading off to the bush, so we got burgers and fries from this joint called the Royale Eatery. The food was just alright. I did have an ostrich burger that was topped with some kind of redbeet relish so when I took my first bite, all kinds of red juice started to pour out - it looked like I was eating a piece of raw, bloody meat.
After dinner, we got back to the hotel so that we could pack up for our departure from Capetown this morning at 5:30 a.m. Alas, it is time for us to move on to other parts of Africa, but Capetown is an amazing place and I would highly recommend it for anyone looking for a place to travel to. Now it's off to Zambia! (Sorry about the shortage of pics here - I'm having some problems uploading - I'll post more as soon as I can.)
$7
Sorry - I wrote this last night, but was much to tired to post. Here goes:
This morning began with a spat. You see, Stacey the "Consummate Planner" had stayed up all night a couple of nights before we left to book a tour for New Year's in Cape Town. The next day, Sanjay said to un-book it so that we could wing it. Today, he booked the same tour at the front desk for tomorrow, the 2nd of January and the day of the Carnival of Minstrels here in Cape Town. The Carnival is one of the reasons I wanted to be in Cape Town for New Year's - and I had no plans on missing it to go on a tour that I'd booked and he'd cancelled. Anywho - we fixed it with a change of plans: Today, a carnival pre-show competition and tomorrow a tour. We'll see what else we can fit in, maybe a bit of the Carnival, maybe a bit of the District Six museum, maybe a trip to Table Mountain. Guess you''ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.
Anyway, after we settled on a revised plan, we departed the Hippo having left a tip of 50 RAN (about $7 USD) for our maid in the room. Within minutes, our maid had run out to let us know that we had accidentally left our money in the room. (Meanwhile, I thought tipping maids in hotel rooms was common practice. Think about it, who deserves a tip more, after all, the woman cleaning your toilet or the one who carries food to your table?) We let her know that the money was a tip meant for her. She was nearly beside herself with gratitude, and very happily exclaimed that she would now be able, in her own words, to "buy my [her] baby some porridge." She shared that her baby was 4 months old, that she was married on 11/26/05 and had just celebrated her first anniversary. She wished us "Happy New Year!" emphatically. Our maid is black and poor. Very poor. In Cape Town, the two characteristics seem so closely correlated here as to be nearly indistinguishable. Surely there are exceptions, but there's clear indication of a rule.
There are three types of people in South Africa: whites (like me), coloureds (neither black nor white but in between, like Sanjay) and blacks. They do not interact. At all. Though I wasn't sure when I said it yesterday, today I am much more certain: apartheid lives. Granted, government regulations enforcing segregation have been eliminated, but the cultural ramifications are everywhere. It reminds me of New Orleans. No longer governmentally segregated, sure, but one hears racist epithets everywhere, and schools, churches and neighborhoods are far from integrated. I wonder why.
Anyway, after our brief discussion with our maid, we left for a competition that precedes the Carnival of Minstrels or the "Coon" Carnival as it's known here. (Coon is another word for a coloured person - not black.) The competition was an all-day affair. Though we'd called this morning to find out that it started at 1pm, once we arrived it was clear, as it has been throughout our stay, that time is not a language spoken fluently here. At the gate, we were informed that the competition would start "whenever we heard them coming". That was at about 4:30. Until then, Sanjay was frustrated. He compared it to setting up a pick-up basketball game with friends at noon and not having them arrive until 3pm. Apparently, in manspeak, this is some sort of manhood code violation of the worst kind. In any case, I explained that it was a cultural difference, not a personal affront. He seemed somewhat appeased, and, while we waited, we took a million pictures of the children waiting for the minstrels to arrive. The children - and their parents - were uniformly excited to have their picture taken and see the thumbnail on Sanjay's camera. I really wished I had a polaroid.
While we were waiting, I began to notice something: I was alone in a crowd of thousands. Maybe there were 5 other white people. Maybe. And Sanjay and I were a particular oddity - a white woman and a coloured man, clearly friends and sitting together. No one seemed particularly concerned, but I felt like a novelty. I wondered if I was welcome or intruding. It wasn't particularly clear. (For context, I suppose I should mention that the celebration originated from a slave celebration as historically the slaves were emancipated for one day yearly for the New Year holiday. It has historically been a celebration of coloured power.)
Finally, the competition began with each minstrel troup marching into Greenpoint Stadium (which, by the way, is scheduled for reconstruction in advance of the 2010 World Cup slated for South Africa. Thank God, as it's a fire trap - a stadium with one small slit of an exit and closed in an all other sides by a cement fence with rusted razor wire). Each crew of 100-1000 had dancers, a brass band and percussionists and members from ages 2 to 102. The groups marched individually around the 1/4 mile track that circumvents the stadium - an exercise that seemingly took FOREVER, with about 15 troupes in all taking 20 minutes each. During this, the first part of the competition, the troupes are judged on costumes, music, dancing, make-up, overall performance and their board - an intricate sign made by each team to represent the name or theme of their crew. 
This morning began with a spat. You see, Stacey the "Consummate Planner" had stayed up all night a couple of nights before we left to book a tour for New Year's in Cape Town. The next day, Sanjay said to un-book it so that we could wing it. Today, he booked the same tour at the front desk for tomorrow, the 2nd of January and the day of the Carnival of Minstrels here in Cape Town. The Carnival is one of the reasons I wanted to be in Cape Town for New Year's - and I had no plans on missing it to go on a tour that I'd booked and he'd cancelled. Anywho - we fixed it with a change of plans: Today, a carnival pre-show competition and tomorrow a tour. We'll see what else we can fit in, maybe a bit of the Carnival, maybe a bit of the District Six museum, maybe a trip to Table Mountain. Guess you''ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.
Anyway, after we settled on a revised plan, we departed the Hippo having left a tip of 50 RAN (about $7 USD) for our maid in the room. Within minutes, our maid had run out to let us know that we had accidentally left our money in the room. (Meanwhile, I thought tipping maids in hotel rooms was common practice. Think about it, who deserves a tip more, after all, the woman cleaning your toilet or the one who carries food to your table?) We let her know that the money was a tip meant for her. She was nearly beside herself with gratitude, and very happily exclaimed that she would now be able, in her own words, to "buy my [her] baby some porridge." She shared that her baby was 4 months old, that she was married on 11/26/05 and had just celebrated her first anniversary. She wished us "Happy New Year!" emphatically. Our maid is black and poor. Very poor. In Cape Town, the two characteristics seem so closely correlated here as to be nearly indistinguishable. Surely there are exceptions, but there's clear indication of a rule.
There are three types of people in South Africa: whites (like me), coloureds (neither black nor white but in between, like Sanjay) and blacks. They do not interact. At all. Though I wasn't sure when I said it yesterday, today I am much more certain: apartheid lives. Granted, government regulations enforcing segregation have been eliminated, but the cultural ramifications are everywhere. It reminds me of New Orleans. No longer governmentally segregated, sure, but one hears racist epithets everywhere, and schools, churches and neighborhoods are far from integrated. I wonder why.
Anyway, after our brief discussion with our maid, we left for a competition that precedes the Carnival of Minstrels or the "Coon" Carnival as it's known here. (Coon is another word for a coloured person - not black.) The competition was an all-day affair. Though we'd called this morning to find out that it started at 1pm, once we arrived it was clear, as it has been throughout our stay, that time is not a language spoken fluently here. At the gate, we were informed that the competition would start "whenever we heard them coming". That was at about 4:30. Until then, Sanjay was frustrated. He compared it to setting up a pick-up basketball game with friends at noon and not having them arrive until 3pm. Apparently, in manspeak, this is some sort of manhood code violation of the worst kind. In any case, I explained that it was a cultural difference, not a personal affront. He seemed somewhat appeased, and, while we waited, we took a million pictures of the children waiting for the minstrels to arrive. The children - and their parents - were uniformly excited to have their picture taken and see the thumbnail on Sanjay's camera. I really wished I had a polaroid.While we were waiting, I began to notice something: I was alone in a crowd of thousands. Maybe there were 5 other white people. Maybe. And Sanjay and I were a particular oddity - a white woman and a coloured man, clearly friends and sitting together. No one seemed particularly concerned, but I felt like a novelty. I wondered if I was welcome or intruding. It wasn't particularly clear. (For context, I suppose I should mention that the celebration originated from a slave celebration as historically the slaves were emancipated for one day yearly for the New Year holiday. It has historically been a celebration of coloured power.)
Finally, the competition began with each minstrel troup marching into Greenpoint Stadium (which, by the way, is scheduled for reconstruction in advance of the 2010 World Cup slated for South Africa. Thank God, as it's a fire trap - a stadium with one small slit of an exit and closed in an all other sides by a cement fence with rusted razor wire). Each crew of 100-1000 had dancers, a brass band and percussionists and members from ages 2 to 102. The groups marched individually around the 1/4 mile track that circumvents the stadium - an exercise that seemingly took FOREVER, with about 15 troupes in all taking 20 minutes each. During this, the first part of the competition, the troupes are judged on costumes, music, dancing, make-up, overall performance and their board - an intricate sign made by each team to represent the name or theme of their crew. 
During the second part of the show, the teams each perform a musical number and are judged on their singing. We were only able to stay for the first two songs, the first of which was an admittedly lousy rendition of Josh Groban's You Raise Me Up.
We had a dinner reservation for 8pm, so we left the competition a little after 7 to hail a cab - a nearly impossible task given our location and the number of people there. But, we managed to find a great guy who not only brought us back to our hotel via the most scenic route down Long and Adderly streets, but also waited for us to change so that he could carry us onward to our restaurant for dinner. He's an Arabic and driving instructor by day, and the senior taxi driver in his company by night. On our way, he let us know that Cape Town is normally even more exuberant and busy during the New Year's holidays, but this year, New Year's fell on Muslim "Christmas,"so the celebrating has been cut down significantly. He also explained some logistics about the minstrel carnival that were somewhat interesting, like the fact that the minstrel troupes aren't static - their names, themes and members change annually.
We dined at Aubergine, apparently one of the finest restaurants in Cape Town. Afterward, I made Sanjay pinky swear that we'd never, ever dine again at a gourmet restuarant run by a German. In this case, that German was Harald Bresselschmidt. (Okay, I'm assuming he was German, could be Dutch, but either way . . .) While he was very nice, and even came to our table after dinner was over to ensure we had a fabulous meal, his foie gras (I know, I don't eat it, but Sanjay does), beef filet and utterly undrinkable - but expensive - pinotage were simply not good. I hate pinotage. Never again. Of course, the mint sorbet, mango with gorgonzola, fresh stir fried calamari and a very light potato soup were pretty yummy. And the Gerwurtzraminer and Chardonnay we started with before our meals were delectable. (I'm just not sure when I became a wine snob. Stupid San Francisco. Stupid loathing of beer.) We finished with two desserts - a chocolate fondant with chili pineapples that Sanjay despised, and some fresh berries baked in goat cheese that I liked very much. While we waited for our cab, we chatted at the bar with our server who recommended that we head to Mama Africa tomorrow for African music and dancing after dinner. Just maybe we will . . .
But for tonight, our revelry led us about 15 minutes outside Cape Town to the casino. My gambling addiction is not pretty. But tonight, it won me 1000 RAN or about $150 USD. But only after Sanjay and I had lost it earlier. Still, we left the casino even. Miracles are possible.
The cabbie who took us from Aubergine to the casino also waited an hour - for free - while we played at the casino. (Thank heaven for time-limited gambling.) While he was quiet on the first trip, on the way back to the hotel he was more loquacious. I asked him where he was from: "Cape Town." I asked him what a "coloured" was, because it din't quite make sense to me yet: "It's someone, like me (him), who's between black and white." It was at this moment that we became aware that Sanjay is a coloured - the cabbie confirmed. (No, Ashlee, the whiteness of his dancing skills do not enable him to reclassify.) Interesting. I also asked his feelings about the progress that South Africa has made in ending apartheid.
I know, pretty hard-hitting topics for a cab ride home after 2am. Nonetheless, his reply was thoughtful and clear. He said, as all of my experiences would suggest, that no one actually believes that or lives that way. "We are still apartheid" he said. He said that he believes that the people want to be integrated, but so mistrust the government and one another that political change seems impossible.
We had a dinner reservation for 8pm, so we left the competition a little after 7 to hail a cab - a nearly impossible task given our location and the number of people there. But, we managed to find a great guy who not only brought us back to our hotel via the most scenic route down Long and Adderly streets, but also waited for us to change so that he could carry us onward to our restaurant for dinner. He's an Arabic and driving instructor by day, and the senior taxi driver in his company by night. On our way, he let us know that Cape Town is normally even more exuberant and busy during the New Year's holidays, but this year, New Year's fell on Muslim "Christmas,"so the celebrating has been cut down significantly. He also explained some logistics about the minstrel carnival that were somewhat interesting, like the fact that the minstrel troupes aren't static - their names, themes and members change annually.
We dined at Aubergine, apparently one of the finest restaurants in Cape Town. Afterward, I made Sanjay pinky swear that we'd never, ever dine again at a gourmet restuarant run by a German. In this case, that German was Harald Bresselschmidt. (Okay, I'm assuming he was German, could be Dutch, but either way . . .) While he was very nice, and even came to our table after dinner was over to ensure we had a fabulous meal, his foie gras (I know, I don't eat it, but Sanjay does), beef filet and utterly undrinkable - but expensive - pinotage were simply not good. I hate pinotage. Never again. Of course, the mint sorbet, mango with gorgonzola, fresh stir fried calamari and a very light potato soup were pretty yummy. And the Gerwurtzraminer and Chardonnay we started with before our meals were delectable. (I'm just not sure when I became a wine snob. Stupid San Francisco. Stupid loathing of beer.) We finished with two desserts - a chocolate fondant with chili pineapples that Sanjay despised, and some fresh berries baked in goat cheese that I liked very much. While we waited for our cab, we chatted at the bar with our server who recommended that we head to Mama Africa tomorrow for African music and dancing after dinner. Just maybe we will . . .
But for tonight, our revelry led us about 15 minutes outside Cape Town to the casino. My gambling addiction is not pretty. But tonight, it won me 1000 RAN or about $150 USD. But only after Sanjay and I had lost it earlier. Still, we left the casino even. Miracles are possible.
The cabbie who took us from Aubergine to the casino also waited an hour - for free - while we played at the casino. (Thank heaven for time-limited gambling.) While he was quiet on the first trip, on the way back to the hotel he was more loquacious. I asked him where he was from: "Cape Town." I asked him what a "coloured" was, because it din't quite make sense to me yet: "It's someone, like me (him), who's between black and white." It was at this moment that we became aware that Sanjay is a coloured - the cabbie confirmed. (No, Ashlee, the whiteness of his dancing skills do not enable him to reclassify.) Interesting. I also asked his feelings about the progress that South Africa has made in ending apartheid.
I know, pretty hard-hitting topics for a cab ride home after 2am. Nonetheless, his reply was thoughtful and clear. He said, as all of my experiences would suggest, that no one actually believes that or lives that way. "We are still apartheid" he said. He said that he believes that the people want to be integrated, but so mistrust the government and one another that political change seems impossible. Now we're safely back in our room at the Hippo. My throat hurts and I fear that my friend Sanjay may have given me his plague. So I'm going to bed now.
Before I do though, I noticed today that Oprah will be opening her girls' school in Jo-burg tomorrow, and Nelson Mandela will be present. Obviously, his accomplishments in bringing the issue of apartheid to light and ending government regulations enforcing segregation have enabled tremendous progress, but I wonder how far he believes South Africa has yet to go . . .
Before I do though, I noticed today that Oprah will be opening her girls' school in Jo-burg tomorrow, and Nelson Mandela will be present. Obviously, his accomplishments in bringing the issue of apartheid to light and ending government regulations enforcing segregation have enabled tremendous progress, but I wonder how far he believes South Africa has yet to go . . .
Monday, January 1, 2007
Primordial Soup
It looks like I got to the blog first this time so first off, Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all had (or are still having if you are on the west coast) a wonderful time celebrating.
We had an amazing time at the Africa Cafe last night! It was an all-you-can-eat African feast. (The waitress stressed that the word feast implied that we were to eat absolutely as much as possible, and use our hands to eat. This was my kind of joint.) After a traditional hand-washing ceremony, they served what seemed like a million dishes from various regions of Africa with dancing, singing and unlimited booze (good stuff too like Chivas Royal Salute). The food was quite good - I was pleasantly surprised. They had some really tasty items like macadamia nut chicken and cinnamon pumpkin but I could have done without the cold fish paste. Casava bread is pretty tasty too, it tastes like a thin potato pancake with yogurt and cheese baked inside. It's actually a bread made from tapioca, which seemed pretty cool to me. I myself liked most of the Morroccan food items that were served. The best was potatoes and peas in a spicy tomato sauce. Yum. Actually, my favorite was probably the Casava bread dipped in an Ethiopian cold yogurty cheese sauce that seemed to have some dill and cilantro involved. It seemed like a Greek dish to me. 200 extra credit points, by the way, for anyone who can post a good recipe for this dip and casava bread. (Kelly, it's vegetarian, maybe it could go on your menu?) Our full menu was printed on a platter which they gave to us as a souvenier to keep. We decided that African sav
ory foods far surpass their sweets, as dessert was pretty boring. That said, they did give us some nut balls decorated in gold and silver dust that could be used to paint Sanjay's face. So we did. (Ha, ha - we used nut balls to paint Sanjay's lips ;) Dinner was ended with cordials and after-dinner drinks. I decided, unfortunately, on a pinotage grappa that was fire water. Not good. We left quite stuffed - I don't think I could have shoved another bite down my gullet. My digestive system has yet to recover.
While we ate, three different choirs sang and danced around us so intensely that I thought the floor would break beneath us. It was awesome fun. Their harmony and rhythm was such that I think it must be cultivated from birth, some of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard, completely a capella save for a single drum and
some clapping. It's the kind of singing that gives you goosebumps because you hear the song right down somewhere deep inside you. Infectious. The kind of song that utterly convinces one that we are all born from the same primordial soup. Stupid me, after one song, I asked the waitress what they were singing about. In that particular song, there were no words, only "la, la, las" and "oh, oh, ohs" that I mistakenly thought had some meaning in another language.
The crowd was a little European. A little? Apartheid, unfortunately, seemed alive and well last night in the Africa Cafe last night, as only whites dined, and only blacks served. We had been warned that this was a tourist trap. It was, though a thoroughly fun one. Hopefully, we've reserved more authentic experiences for later in our trip.
Actually, we were probably the whitest group of people you could have probab
ly found in Africa last night. I take pride in the fact that my skin was probably the whitest of all, and Sanjay's dancing was definitely the whitest of all. I think we were the only Amerians there judging from the accents we heard. Nevertheless, the food and the music was great - African people definitely have rhythm. They even had a local marimba band play for us on the roof while we all lit sparklers to ring in the New Year. By we, I, of course, mean Sanjay. I am terrified of sparklers. Especially sparklers lit by drunken Euro-trash on a wooden patio. Frightening.
On our way home, we found the Labia cinemas. Not quite sure what was going on here, though Sanjay seems eager to investigate.
Overall, I'm currently underwhelmed by my degree of culture shock. Perhaps I am so thoroughly wonder bread (though I'd hate to think so - maybe it's Sanj) that I attract whiteness and westerness to me no matter where I travel. I certainly hope not. Maybe the opposite is true and I'm so cosmopolitan as to be unshakable, though I'd also hate for that to be true. How boring.
Actually, as you look around Cape Town, you could really be in America if the cars were on a different side of the street. That said, as we drove in from the airport yesterday, you could see shacks as far as the eye could see. Like America, it seems if you're not poor, you can completely avoid being confronted with actual poverty by avoiding bad neighborhoods and averting your gaze as you drive on the highway. Of course, this assessment is based on only one day here, as a tourist. Maybe today I'll learn a little more.
Question of the Day: New Year's resolutions, anyone?
For anyone who knows me, you know mine last year was to lose weight. This year's to lose more and keep it off. That, and to live in the moment a little more. Stop the incessant planning.
Song of the Day: A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong
I woke up singing this song in my head today, and wanting to French braid my own hair. Weird. Do you ever wake up with a song so thoroughly stuck in your brain that you can't emancipate yourself from its grasp? Where does that come from? The yearning for a French braid is one I can honestly say I've never experienced before. Maybe it was all the French accents from last night? If you have a plausible explanation for this ridiculous combination of circumstances, I'd love to hear it. Sanjay just informed me that he's NEVER heard this song, and he thought my French braid looked silly, so I took it out :(
We had an amazing time at the Africa Cafe last night! It was an all-you-can-eat African feast. (The waitress stressed that the word feast implied that we were to eat absolutely as much as possible, and use our hands to eat. This was my kind of joint.) After a traditional hand-washing ceremony, they served what seemed like a million dishes from various regions of Africa with dancing, singing and unlimited booze (good stuff too like Chivas Royal Salute). The food was quite good - I was pleasantly surprised. They had some really tasty items like macadamia nut chicken and cinnamon pumpkin but I could have done without the cold fish paste. Casava bread is pretty tasty too, it tastes like a thin potato pancake with yogurt and cheese baked inside. It's actually a bread made from tapioca, which seemed pretty cool to me. I myself liked most of the Morroccan food items that were served. The best was potatoes and peas in a spicy tomato sauce. Yum. Actually, my favorite was probably the Casava bread dipped in an Ethiopian cold yogurty cheese sauce that seemed to have some dill and cilantro involved. It seemed like a Greek dish to me. 200 extra credit points, by the way, for anyone who can post a good recipe for this dip and casava bread. (Kelly, it's vegetarian, maybe it could go on your menu?) Our full menu was printed on a platter which they gave to us as a souvenier to keep. We decided that African sav
ory foods far surpass their sweets, as dessert was pretty boring. That said, they did give us some nut balls decorated in gold and silver dust that could be used to paint Sanjay's face. So we did. (Ha, ha - we used nut balls to paint Sanjay's lips ;) Dinner was ended with cordials and after-dinner drinks. I decided, unfortunately, on a pinotage grappa that was fire water. Not good. We left quite stuffed - I don't think I could have shoved another bite down my gullet. My digestive system has yet to recover.
While we ate, three different choirs sang and danced around us so intensely that I thought the floor would break beneath us. It was awesome fun. Their harmony and rhythm was such that I think it must be cultivated from birth, some of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard, completely a capella save for a single drum and
some clapping. It's the kind of singing that gives you goosebumps because you hear the song right down somewhere deep inside you. Infectious. The kind of song that utterly convinces one that we are all born from the same primordial soup. Stupid me, after one song, I asked the waitress what they were singing about. In that particular song, there were no words, only "la, la, las" and "oh, oh, ohs" that I mistakenly thought had some meaning in another language.
The crowd was a little European. A little? Apartheid, unfortunately, seemed alive and well last night in the Africa Cafe last night, as only whites dined, and only blacks served. We had been warned that this was a tourist trap. It was, though a thoroughly fun one. Hopefully, we've reserved more authentic experiences for later in our trip.Actually, we were probably the whitest group of people you could have probab
ly found in Africa last night. I take pride in the fact that my skin was probably the whitest of all, and Sanjay's dancing was definitely the whitest of all. I think we were the only Amerians there judging from the accents we heard. Nevertheless, the food and the music was great - African people definitely have rhythm. They even had a local marimba band play for us on the roof while we all lit sparklers to ring in the New Year. By we, I, of course, mean Sanjay. I am terrified of sparklers. Especially sparklers lit by drunken Euro-trash on a wooden patio. Frightening.
On our way home, we found the Labia cinemas. Not quite sure what was going on here, though Sanjay seems eager to investigate.Overall, I'm currently underwhelmed by my degree of culture shock. Perhaps I am so thoroughly wonder bread (though I'd hate to think so - maybe it's Sanj) that I attract whiteness and westerness to me no matter where I travel. I certainly hope not. Maybe the opposite is true and I'm so cosmopolitan as to be unshakable, though I'd also hate for that to be true. How boring.
Actually, as you look around Cape Town, you could really be in America if the cars were on a different side of the street. That said, as we drove in from the airport yesterday, you could see shacks as far as the eye could see. Like America, it seems if you're not poor, you can completely avoid being confronted with actual poverty by avoiding bad neighborhoods and averting your gaze as you drive on the highway. Of course, this assessment is based on only one day here, as a tourist. Maybe today I'll learn a little more.
Question of the Day: New Year's resolutions, anyone?
For anyone who knows me, you know mine last year was to lose weight. This year's to lose more and keep it off. That, and to live in the moment a little more. Stop the incessant planning.
Song of the Day: A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong
I woke up singing this song in my head today, and wanting to French braid my own hair. Weird. Do you ever wake up with a song so thoroughly stuck in your brain that you can't emancipate yourself from its grasp? Where does that come from? The yearning for a French braid is one I can honestly say I've never experienced before. Maybe it was all the French accents from last night? If you have a plausible explanation for this ridiculous combination of circumstances, I'd love to hear it. Sanjay just informed me that he's NEVER heard this song, and he thought my French braid looked silly, so I took it out :(
Sunday, December 31, 2006
The Arrival
We are in AFRICA! While we may not be clever enough to correctly identify the ampersand (there it is - &) on the keyboard, we have successfully navigated ourselves half way across the globe. I think I just like the word ampersand, and am suffering from sleep deprivation. 
As we flew in, we saw Cape Town's most famous landmark, Table Mountain. It's truly beautiful. (I promise, we'll take better pictures now that we've arrived.)
Our pessimism about our luggage was misplaced. It arrived, as did we, without a hitch. Even coach on South African Airways was fabulous, even for 10 hours. (My assessment of this wonderful airline was absolutely mistaken in my previous post). We had our personal entertainment system, where I watched a South African movie - Beat the Drum - that more than made up for the horrible movies we chose on United. It's the story of a little Zulu boy, Musa, whose family is killed by AIDS, and his journey as a street kid in Johannesburg (or, for everyone here, Jo-burg) where he works to earn money to buy a new cow for his grandmother. (Her former cow, and Musa's beloved pet, was sacrificed by the tribe elders to appease the ancestors to remove the plague - i.e., AIDS - from their village. I can't remember the cow's Zulu name, but it meant something like "cry to the point one has no more tears".) He also searches for his uncle to return home and take care of his family. It's a great movie, especially for the tender-hearted among us. Rent it.
The dinner they served was actually VERY good. A spicy chicken and rice, and boy was I hungry.
There was a minor glitch, namely a glass of fairly decent shiraz on the plane that has now cast its pinkish purplish shadow on my formerly "soapstone" colored pants. For those who know me well, this is no surprise at all. In any case, Stacey's pant-count is now down from 3 pairs to only 2 and that's before I even arrived. Who needs pants anyway? At least I very much amused my quite handsome and very amiable flight attendant.
Upon arrival, we caught a cab, and drove with our own Capetonian "Ricky Bobby" cab driver to the Hippo Boutique Hotel, where we now reside for three days. Thankfully, there's a computer with internet access - albeit slow - right here in our own room. Thus, we write.
Now, we're headed out to explore what appears to be an incredibly beautiful city. Not if I have anything to say about it. I am exhausted and I am going to take a nap so I'll see you later. ;)
I just woke up from my nap - I now know what jet lag really feels like. The mix of being sick and flying the past three days has made me really tired, but I feel great now. It's funny, Stacey and I have such different 'vacation' styles - she wants to do something every minute or she feels like she is missing out on something. I on the other hand know that I'm going to be in Africa for almost 7 weeks so I'm totally cool with using a couple days to just relax and unwind. I've been in "go, go, go" mode for a couple months now so I'm going to take it easy and enjoy myself (up until I work with the children and hike Mt. Kilimanjaro of course).
As Stacey mentioned, the flight over was pretty nice. Other than trying to avoid Stacey's wine spillages (if you've ever been around Stacey, you have to have an eye on her at all times because she is a disaster waiting to happen, and oftentimes you are part of the collateral damage), I got to see "The Illusionist"with Edward Norton - great movie with a great ending. We got to sit on the upper deck of what I think was a 747 - holy crap that is a huge plane. I am still amazed everytime I think that something that big gets off of the ground.
Here's what I've noticed so far about South Africa/Cape Town - the people are extremely hospitable, they all have great accents (although I can't wait to hear a language where they use that clicking sound), and there appears to be a plethora of amazing restaurants walking distance from our hotel, the Hippo Boutique Hotel (http://www.hippotique.co.za/) which has a plasma TV and computer in each room, something I don't expect to see in a couple days or so.
Oh, Stacey forgot to mention our luck with Customs - apparently in South Africa, you have to declare anything you bring (including personal effects) worth more than $3000 ZAR total - this comes out to about $400 U.S. For anything on top of that, you have to pay them some fee of 20% or so for everything exceeding that limit. You could imagine my concern when in my possession I had a $1,000+ Nikon D80, brand new 80-Gig video iPod, Stacey's new Blackberry Pearl, and about a gillion dollars worth of newly bought mountain wear for the Kilimanjaro climb. Anyways, I filled out the declaration card and went to the Items to Declare line and gave my card to one of the 4 guys working a booth with no other passengers in the entire area so I was getting ready for the full anal probe. As it turns out, he took our cards, said thank you and sent us on our way through the glass sliding doors leading to the outside world. I don't really know what happened, but I'll take it!
I am about to get ready for tonight's New Year's Eve festivities - we're going to a place called the Africa Cafe (http://www.africacafe.co.za/) for an all inclusive dinner with entertainment in the form of traditional African song and dance, it should be a blast. (Don't worry Jimmy, I'll stay away from the beef but I might go for the crocodile.) I'm hoping I can change my opinion of African food which I have always referred to as "poor man's indian food". Anyways, we'll write more again tomorrow but we wanted to wish all of you a very Happy New Year and have a great, safe time celebrating tonight!!!
P.S. Thanks for the lovely pic Ashlee, I should totally grow out two ponytails on the sides of my head, it'd be great to have a Last of the Mohicans look. Or maybe I'll just grow a mullet, that'd look really nice with my baldness up front.
By the way, Dan posted us to Digg, so check in there and digg us. You can link to it from his comment on our last post.
And, Janet, my friend from Chicago, sent some more photos from Krispy Kreme & Steak & Shake that you can check out in one of our previous posts below.
As we flew in, we saw Cape Town's most famous landmark, Table Mountain. It's truly beautiful. (I promise, we'll take better pictures now that we've arrived.)
Our pessimism about our luggage was misplaced. It arrived, as did we, without a hitch. Even coach on South African Airways was fabulous, even for 10 hours. (My assessment of this wonderful airline was absolutely mistaken in my previous post). We had our personal entertainment system, where I watched a South African movie - Beat the Drum - that more than made up for the horrible movies we chose on United. It's the story of a little Zulu boy, Musa, whose family is killed by AIDS, and his journey as a street kid in Johannesburg (or, for everyone here, Jo-burg) where he works to earn money to buy a new cow for his grandmother. (Her former cow, and Musa's beloved pet, was sacrificed by the tribe elders to appease the ancestors to remove the plague - i.e., AIDS - from their village. I can't remember the cow's Zulu name, but it meant something like "cry to the point one has no more tears".) He also searches for his uncle to return home and take care of his family. It's a great movie, especially for the tender-hearted among us. Rent it.The dinner they served was actually VERY good. A spicy chicken and rice, and boy was I hungry.
There was a minor glitch, namely a glass of fairly decent shiraz on the plane that has now cast its pinkish purplish shadow on my formerly "soapstone" colored pants. For those who know me well, this is no surprise at all. In any case, Stacey's pant-count is now down from 3 pairs to only 2 and that's before I even arrived. Who needs pants anyway? At least I very much amused my quite handsome and very amiable flight attendant.
Upon arrival, we caught a cab, and drove with our own Capetonian "Ricky Bobby" cab driver to the Hippo Boutique Hotel, where we now reside for three days. Thankfully, there's a computer with internet access - albeit slow - right here in our own room. Thus, we write.
Now, we're headed out to explore what appears to be an incredibly beautiful city. Not if I have anything to say about it. I am exhausted and I am going to take a nap so I'll see you later. ;)
I just woke up from my nap - I now know what jet lag really feels like. The mix of being sick and flying the past three days has made me really tired, but I feel great now. It's funny, Stacey and I have such different 'vacation' styles - she wants to do something every minute or she feels like she is missing out on something. I on the other hand know that I'm going to be in Africa for almost 7 weeks so I'm totally cool with using a couple days to just relax and unwind. I've been in "go, go, go" mode for a couple months now so I'm going to take it easy and enjoy myself (up until I work with the children and hike Mt. Kilimanjaro of course).
As Stacey mentioned, the flight over was pretty nice. Other than trying to avoid Stacey's wine spillages (if you've ever been around Stacey, you have to have an eye on her at all times because she is a disaster waiting to happen, and oftentimes you are part of the collateral damage), I got to see "The Illusionist"with Edward Norton - great movie with a great ending. We got to sit on the upper deck of what I think was a 747 - holy crap that is a huge plane. I am still amazed everytime I think that something that big gets off of the ground.
Here's what I've noticed so far about South Africa/Cape Town - the people are extremely hospitable, they all have great accents (although I can't wait to hear a language where they use that clicking sound), and there appears to be a plethora of amazing restaurants walking distance from our hotel, the Hippo Boutique Hotel (http://www.hippotique.co.za/) which has a plasma TV and computer in each room, something I don't expect to see in a couple days or so.
Oh, Stacey forgot to mention our luck with Customs - apparently in South Africa, you have to declare anything you bring (including personal effects) worth more than $3000 ZAR total - this comes out to about $400 U.S. For anything on top of that, you have to pay them some fee of 20% or so for everything exceeding that limit. You could imagine my concern when in my possession I had a $1,000+ Nikon D80, brand new 80-Gig video iPod, Stacey's new Blackberry Pearl, and about a gillion dollars worth of newly bought mountain wear for the Kilimanjaro climb. Anyways, I filled out the declaration card and went to the Items to Declare line and gave my card to one of the 4 guys working a booth with no other passengers in the entire area so I was getting ready for the full anal probe. As it turns out, he took our cards, said thank you and sent us on our way through the glass sliding doors leading to the outside world. I don't really know what happened, but I'll take it!
I am about to get ready for tonight's New Year's Eve festivities - we're going to a place called the Africa Cafe (http://www.africacafe.co.za/) for an all inclusive dinner with entertainment in the form of traditional African song and dance, it should be a blast. (Don't worry Jimmy, I'll stay away from the beef but I might go for the crocodile.) I'm hoping I can change my opinion of African food which I have always referred to as "poor man's indian food". Anyways, we'll write more again tomorrow but we wanted to wish all of you a very Happy New Year and have a great, safe time celebrating tonight!!!
P.S. Thanks for the lovely pic Ashlee, I should totally grow out two ponytails on the sides of my head, it'd be great to have a Last of the Mohicans look. Or maybe I'll just grow a mullet, that'd look really nice with my baldness up front.
By the way, Dan posted us to Digg, so check in there and digg us. You can link to it from his comment on our last post.
And, Janet, my friend from Chicago, sent some more photos from Krispy Kreme & Steak & Shake that you can check out in one of our previous posts below.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
One Carry-on
We've made it to London. Do you miss us yet?
Sanjay's currently showering in the South African Airlines lounge at Heathrow. Membership has its privileges. Free shower, free - unbelieveably slow - internet.
A quick note for anyone travelling to the UK. One carry-on allowed. A single, non-bulging carry-on. No purse, no backpack, no laptop - nothing extraneous. The Brits take this very seriously. For those of you who haven't personally witnessed our struggle, both Sanjay and I worked intensely over the last 4 weeks or so to pack 2 bags - a backpack and a roll-aboard each. We thought we were doing well.
Apparently not. While we made it to Heathrow on United with all of our luggage on-board, as soon as we arrived, security informed us that it is "national law" in the UK that each passenger is allowed one and only one carry on. We, therefore, could not simply connect - we, instead, had to go through customs and then, painstakingly, repack everything - for about 2 hours. We made certain we had only one carry-on and that it contains all the essentials. The non-essentials we consolidated into our hiking duffels and prepared to check them in - and, likely, lose them forever.
Perhaps we're being overly pessimistic. But trust me, you would be too. We personally witnessed the Cyprus Airways signs being replaced by the (may-as-well-have-been-scribbled-in-crayon) South African Airways check-in signs. There were three lines (I mean "queues") of people who wanted to check-in that led nowhere. While we successfully navigated through all three lines to eventually secure a boarding pass (where, by the way, the lone agent pleasantly suggested that we repack our luggage again to bring our cheap duffel bags on board and leave our larger bags to check in), their "first-rate service" did not imbue us with a sense of confidence that whatever we checked would actually ever arrive in Africa.
So now here we are in the South African Airways lounge - which, by the way, is far nicer than our check-in experience would have belied - and we're moving ever nearer to our destination. Are you as excited as I am?
PS: There is no ampersand on this crazy British keyboard. To log into my blog, I had to navigate to yahoo and copy one - I'll paste it here again so all that effort doesn't go to waste. @@@@@@@@@@@@
My travel partner isn't too bright - see look, the ampersand is right here @ on the keyboard.
PPS: The quotation marks are in the wrong place too - it's over the number 2. What can you expect though from a country where everyone drives on the wrong side of the roads? This directional confusion also extends to airport moving walkways in case you were curious.
PPPS: In an effort to make this blog more interactive, we're adding a new feature, the Question of the Day. I know it's very exciting - here's our first:
I've just been informed that I am coming up with the question of the day...so here it comes:
Question of the Day: What are you all doing for New Year's Eve? I would tell you what we're doing but you'll have to wait until tomorrow's episode to find out.
Song of the Day: Here Comes the Sun, The Beatles
As the sun came up over England, it cast a blinding glare through the windows of our Boeing 777. I could hear my niece Zoe's favorite band in my head (Yes, she is really that cool of a 7-year-old. Her favorite band is the Beatles.) The song and the bright sunshine (Isn't England supposed to be rainy?) struck me as a beautiful omen for the journey that lies ahead.
Sanjay's currently showering in the South African Airlines lounge at Heathrow. Membership has its privileges. Free shower, free - unbelieveably slow - internet.
A quick note for anyone travelling to the UK. One carry-on allowed. A single, non-bulging carry-on. No purse, no backpack, no laptop - nothing extraneous. The Brits take this very seriously. For those of you who haven't personally witnessed our struggle, both Sanjay and I worked intensely over the last 4 weeks or so to pack 2 bags - a backpack and a roll-aboard each. We thought we were doing well.
Apparently not. While we made it to Heathrow on United with all of our luggage on-board, as soon as we arrived, security informed us that it is "national law" in the UK that each passenger is allowed one and only one carry on. We, therefore, could not simply connect - we, instead, had to go through customs and then, painstakingly, repack everything - for about 2 hours. We made certain we had only one carry-on and that it contains all the essentials. The non-essentials we consolidated into our hiking duffels and prepared to check them in - and, likely, lose them forever.
Perhaps we're being overly pessimistic. But trust me, you would be too. We personally witnessed the Cyprus Airways signs being replaced by the (may-as-well-have-been-scribbled-in-crayon) South African Airways check-in signs. There were three lines (I mean "queues") of people who wanted to check-in that led nowhere. While we successfully navigated through all three lines to eventually secure a boarding pass (where, by the way, the lone agent pleasantly suggested that we repack our luggage again to bring our cheap duffel bags on board and leave our larger bags to check in), their "first-rate service" did not imbue us with a sense of confidence that whatever we checked would actually ever arrive in Africa.
We really have to figure out this luggage thing because I have no desire to spend several hours a day repacking our bags. I don't know what it is with women but they overpack for everything! Why would you possibly pack 3 different pairs of shoes (in addition to the hiking boots she's already wearing.)
In any case, our escapades here so far have ensured that we actually will not get to see London at all. That's not entirely true. Sanjay had a window seat, and he saw the Millenium ferris wheel. He took, for me, a horrible photo from my Blackberry. I think there's a ferris wheel there somewhere. In any case, from my seat I missed any view of London entirely.
I really can't complain, though. Our flight from Chicago to London was 100% painless. In fact, business class was pure bliss. Thank God for Funken frequent flyer miles. There was filet mignon and Sanjay (the beefless wonder - just kidding, Sanj, you're really a beefcake ;)) had some not-terrible pasta. We had caesar salad, focaccia, warm nuts, ice cream and a fruit and cheese plate. They spoiled us (and further added to our unwieldy luggage) by providing us with an amenity kit filled with goodies like H2O body butter and an eye mask. The eye mask was completely unecessary though. Nearly 100% reclined with a ton of legroom, both of us passed out within 20 minutes of laying down to watch our choice of 9 not-terribly-exciting bedtime-story movies. For Sanj, Miami Vice and for me, The Wicker Man.
So now here we are in the South African Airways lounge - which, by the way, is far nicer than our check-in experience would have belied - and we're moving ever nearer to our destination. Are you as excited as I am?
PS: There is no ampersand on this crazy British keyboard. To log into my blog, I had to navigate to yahoo and copy one - I'll paste it here again so all that effort doesn't go to waste. @@@@@@@@@@@@
My travel partner isn't too bright - see look, the ampersand is right here @ on the keyboard.
PPS: The quotation marks are in the wrong place too - it's over the number 2. What can you expect though from a country where everyone drives on the wrong side of the roads? This directional confusion also extends to airport moving walkways in case you were curious.
PPPS: In an effort to make this blog more interactive, we're adding a new feature, the Question of the Day. I know it's very exciting - here's our first:
I've just been informed that I am coming up with the question of the day...so here it comes:
Question of the Day: What are you all doing for New Year's Eve? I would tell you what we're doing but you'll have to wait until tomorrow's episode to find out.
Song of the Day: Here Comes the Sun, The Beatles
As the sun came up over England, it cast a blinding glare through the windows of our Boeing 777. I could hear my niece Zoe's favorite band in my head (Yes, she is really that cool of a 7-year-old. Her favorite band is the Beatles.) The song and the bright sunshine (Isn't England supposed to be rainy?) struck me as a beautiful omen for the journey that lies ahead.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
