The Last One for a Little While...

Well, Thailand passed all to quickly. In all honesty, I was having far too much fun in the sun to be glued to a computer screen... That is the only explanation that I have for my lack of writing. This one's going to be short and sweet:

Thailand was all about the good times. Rock climbing, meeting the most amazing people, dancing, eating the most delicious food on the planet and the list goes on. I spent most of my days with my brother from another mother, Tommy Parker, which made it all the more wonderful. 

Now I'm in New Zealand, preparing for my last adventure before I head home in July. I stopped through Australia on the way over (for three days), said hello to my friend Ross, saw Cat Empire play, adjusted to the cold weather (kinda...), met some more wonderful people and then headed out early this morning for Kiwi Land. Today, I'm taking a bus from Auckland to Opua where I will hop aboard a sailing vessel: Yacht Chiquita. She's 50 feet and apparently beautiful, though I haven't seen her in 'real life' yet. I'll be working aboard for two months--cooking, manning the sails, taking photos, staying up to do watches etc... etc... My crew consists of the Captain, Ding, an older man with heaps of sailing experience, and Marie, a young French girl, looking for adventure just like me! We'll just be gypsying around Fiji, Samoa, The Austral Islands and honestly wherever the wind shall blow us. Ding sails without a set destination--if the winds in our favor then we go for it. A nice way to live life if you ask me... Then, finally I'll be returning home in late July to good ol' Santa Cruz. So, here I go again into the great wide open! The journey continues! Over and out. 

Out of Africa--Into Thailand

      Okay, sorry folks, I know it’s been a while now… There is no particular explanation I can give for my 'blogging absence' except for the fact that I haven’t felt as inspired lately. It’s probably because I spent the last few weeks of my trip in South Africa relaxing, reflecting and embracing my youth—attending music festivals, drinking beer, blah blah… Not too much exciting stuff to write about…

But now, I’m back, with a BANG. I’m in Thailand, baby.

I spent the last four days in transit travel. It went a little something like this:

Day one: Fly Cape Town to Windhoek, Namibia.

Day two: Spend the night in Windhoek.

Day three: Fly Windhoek to Johannesburg, layover four hours, fly Johannesburg to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, spend the night in Kuala Lumpur.

Day four: Fly Kuala Lumpur to Phuket, Thailand.

So, yes, it’s been a crazy past few days, but I finally made it to the Land of Smiles!

Backtracking a bit to Kuala Lumpur... I’d heard that Malaysia was an interesting, sexist place. With this in mind, I had worn the least-revealing outfit that I own: a t-shirt and calf-length gaucho pants. Even in this prude uniform, I still caught multiple Malaysian men staring at me—NOT at the standard places you might expect American men to be staring, but mainly at my ankles and sometimes at my hair. I gaped back confusedly at first, then decided it would be best to make my way through the airport at top-speed and find my hotel. I spent the rest of my day within the confines of the hotel room, only leaving once to explore the pool. I quickly realized that I would not be allowed to swim due to the fact that I only own two-piece bathing suits; the sign next to the pool stated ‘women must wear a full-covering, one-piece bathing suit in order to swim’. Yikes.

So, I was happy to move along. It was an easy one-hour flight from Kuala Lumpur to Phuket. I landed, gathered my things and hustled my way out, searching for my ginger/best friend/platonic love, Tommy Parker. 

That's him, the tall one! And his dad... and his dogs.

I found him immediately, towering above all the little Thai people. It was like I was in a movie: I ran to him, he scooped me into his arms, swung me around three times and kissed me on the cheek. Reunited, finally after six months. He helped me pack my belongings into the taxi and we were off. As we sped through the streets of Thailand, I was on cloud nine… back with my Tom Tom and breathing in all the new, unfamiliar sights around me. Motorbikes sped past in a disorganized flurry. Thai Temples stood tall and golden. Lush green mountains loomed up around us. The humidity, the new smells, it all excited me.

We arrived at our destination, Patong. I had been so high from all the mental stimulation that I had hardly realized how tired I was from all the traveling. I fell straight to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, Tommy had left for work (he’s teaching English here, for a whole year!). I decided to go exploring. I was in for a bit of a shock. Motorbikes, tuk-tuks, taxis, people and stray dogs were all bustling around me. I felt like I was walking in slow motion and the world was moving around me in hyper-speed. Tiny stalls line the roads, selling street food, plagiarized brands of clothes, boxing gear, watches etc… (anything you want, I discovered, you can find in Thailand, FOR CHEAP).
 Dozens of young, Thai women stand on the streets, trying to persuade the white tourists that they are in dire need of an hour-long oil massage. People on motorbikes are continually honking. I’m under the impression that there are no traffic laws in Thailand: the streets are crazy—It’s a near death experience every time I cross the road.

I continued walking the streets in a daze. I walked around for hours just people-watching and observing the commotion. I finally arrived at the beach and was immediately astonished by how beautiful it was. It was a breath of fresh air to be at the shore again. It looked right out of a post card with crystal blue water, white sand and leafy green, palm tree-covered islands resting on the horizon. BUT, I was definitely not the only one enjoying this gorgeous paradise… Surrounding me were the masses: hoards of stereotypical tourists covered the beach. They were sunburned and fat, lounging in their beach chairs under umbrellas and sipping garnished, colorful drinks. They fit into this category, or the category of the men who obviously spend too much time in the gym: tanned, with muscles bulging and tribal tattoos. They strut along the beach, shirtless with manicured hair and a look on their face that says “I’m too sexy for my shirt”. The gorgeous setting was sharply contradicted by the crowd that inhabited it.     This is NOT my scene. 

As I normally do, I tried to find the best in this situation. I made my way down to the water and as soon as the tide touched my toes, I knew it was going to be okay. The sea was the temperature of bath water and clear blue. I couldn’t complain. Two weeks here might be interesting, but I would have to find my outlet some way or another. So I strolled down the beach with a slight smile on my face as I experienced some of the best people-watching imaginable. I even had to laugh out loud a few times as I observed some of the interactions going on around me. I was hoping to find the end of this long line of beach chairs, tourists and insanity, but was quickly disappointed as I saw that the mob stretched all the way from one side of the beach to the other. I sighed, laid my towel down, staking out my territory, in the least populated section.

I tried to relax, but the annoying buzz of jet skis interrupted my thoughts. So, I made my way to the sea and dove in. The ocean was so salty that I was as buoyant as a boat. I laid, belly up, in the warm water, letting the calm waves rock me back and forth like a serene hammock. I couldn’t hear anything now… my ears were submerged, producing a peaceful muteness. I appreciated the silence and I lay like this for a long time. I felt at home in the ocean. Life was good. Thailand is great.

Every tourist destination has its overpopulated center. California has LA. France has Paris. Bali has Kuta. And Thailand has Phuket. This isn’t my usual point of interest when traveling, but hey, we’ve got to make the best of what we have, right? I might end up heading off somewhere on my own and meeting up with Mr. Thomas when he’s finished with school in two weeks, OR I might just give myself a challenge and try to find the true beauty in Phuket. I haven’t been outside of the city yet and it’s only my second day, so I think I’ll give it a chance before I make any rash decisions. I’ll report back soon... Much love people! 

Farm Life

            

      We arrived in Cape Town, overcame our culture shock and were transplanted right back into paradise. Brian and his father Errol picked us up from the Airport with open, welcoming arms. We spent the next couple days surfing, hiking, swimming with seals (trying not to think about great white sharks…), cooking mean meals, baking cookies and relaxing—coming down from the whole experience in Ramotswa.

            Errol offered to drive us to Villiersdorp: the farmlands where we would be spending the next week. We took a beautiful scenic route, catching views of magnificent craggy mountains that stretch down to meet the endless sea. The fog looms over the high peaks like a misty blanket. My, my South Africa has a fine coastline.

     We arrived in Villiersdorp around one o’clock. It is located about two hours outside of Cape Town in a lush valley in the middle of nowhere. We had no idea what to expect… when we reached our destination, we were amazed. In front of us lay a pristine farm: green pastures stretching on forever, endless vineyards, countless horses galloping and trotting over the grassy knolls, a quaint little farm house, a plentiful garden, herds of sheep, nine dogs running out to greet us—all to top it off, all of this is just the foreground… behind, rests a massive, gorgeous rocky mountain range. We were instantly in heaven. 

            We said goodbye to Brian and Errol (which always makes us sad… but we’ll be seeing them next week again—their home has become our ‘home base’ or ‘second home’… and they’ve become our South African family). We were briefed on the rules of the farm house:

1.     Eat anything (booze, we have to pay for… not a strict rule, they got us tipsy last night)

2.     Um, yeah, that’s pretty much the only rule…

So, we’ve got it pretty good. We spent the day today helping Willem with the wine making. We were part of what you might call a ‘human machine’. We worked with about ten other men… manual labor, stacking wine bottles. It went something like this: receive bottles, pass bottles, stack bottles, repeat. Receive, pass, stack. Receive, pass, stack. On and on.

We did this for a while, then took off to explore the property.

“Just watch out for the leopard,” they told us.

LEOPARD? !!

“Oh! And the poisonous snakes.”

!!

Regardless, we went exploring… We trekked through the bush on the look out for dangerous creatures. We didn’t find any… but we did find a glassy, turquoise pool of water. Then I remembered another word of advice we had received:

“Look out for leeches!”

They told us that there were two water holes, one with leeches, one without. This one looked so clear and inviting…. So we took our chances and went skinny-dipping. No leeches! Success.

 

So, that’s my story lately.

Side note: Sometimes I spend my days waiting for something to happen. A person might waste their entire life waiting for something to happen… just passing the time, hoping for a climax to emerge from the chaos. What I’ve come to realize is that there is no climax. There is no pinnacle, no culmination of past moments that come together to become something solid—something that makes sense. It will never make sense.  All we have is the current moment—we have to grab it and shape it into our own perceived reality. It’s like silly-puddy in our hands… We have the power to create our own future. It’s all about the ups and downs—it’s about the short and powerful highs that make life worth living. It’s about appreciating the negative experiences, growing from those occurrences, moving on and embracing the disorderly world that we live in.  

♥

ALSO SPECIAL THANKS TO:

I need to thank some people who made this trip and experience possible...

Thank you to Rising International--the 501c3 non-profit organization that sponsored me to come here. It is based in Santa Cruz and is truly doing amazing things. This company promotes ownership of craft-based businesses by women in both impoverished areas of developed nations as well as in developing nations. Their focus is primarily on women in high risk environments such as those in refugee camps, those living with HIV/AIDS, homeless women, displaced immigrants, former slaves, or those in war-torn regions of the world. Please see the website for Rising International: 

http://www.risinginternational.org/

Also, they have frequent craft sales where one can purchase the works of art that are created by the hands of these women... the money you spend will go to a very good cause. See the 'events calendar' on the website to find out when the next craft sale is. You can also purchase crafts online! It's a great way to help out the world and at the same time find some beautiful, handmade crafts for your home or office. The crafts also make great gifts. So please, check out the website and see for yourself!    
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Being backed by this company allowed me to get further sponsored by Adobe and get three cheap versions of Photoshop. I donated one Photoshop copy to an NGO in Windhoek, Namibia called SFH (The Society for Family Health--website: http://www.sfh.org.na/home.html). I also gave a lesson here.

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The other two copies were donated to SEDYEL (South East District Youth Empowerment League) in Ramotswa. This is where Yarrow and I put in the majority of our time and efforts. I gave a two-week-long Photoshop demo here. SEDYEL is part of the Kicking AIDS Out movement. This organization promotes teaching AIDS awareness through soccer. It has proved to be very effective so far. Have a look, their website is: 

http://www.kickingaidsout.net/WhatisKickingAIDSOut/Members/Pages/SEDYEL.aspx

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A special thanks to Adobe and David Kuspa for supporting.

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I also want to thank those of you who donated to our cause from the facebook page...

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kicking-AIDS-Out/150077271713178?ref=ts#!/pages/Kicking-AIDS-Out/150077271713178

It’s so energizing to see that there are people out there who still care to make the world a better place—even if the work is happening hundreds of miles away. Maybe you can’t directly see the change happening, but I can promise you, it is… gradually. Every bit counts. I feel so lucky to part of the Santa Cruz Community… we’re one big family and we’ve got a good thing going. THANK YOU FRIENDS for helping. We were able to purchase one camera and some office supplies for the center. Now the people at SEDYEL will be able to create their own social media to promote AIDS awareness AND they will be able to generate income with the work they are doing. SO much love coming from this end… so much love. Thanks again…

WE COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!

Wrapping Up Ramotswa

    

The crew--final farewells

      Today we left Ramotswa. In a whirlwind of disorder we rushed around the village fulfilling different peoples’ needs…we dashed to the District Health Office, finished creating our AIDS awareness pamphlets, packed, cleaned, tied up loose ends and finished unfinished business.

Yarrow, distributing pamphlets

This is the usual scenario for me when preparing to go away for a long period of time… usually my unorganized brain is too occupied with last-minute to-do lists that I don’t allow the sad feelings that go hand in hand with leaving to surface. Maybe it’s a tactic that I’ve developed over the years to help prevent my emotions from taking over—who knows? I am terrible at goodbyes… I would rather just evaporate and leave a happy memory behind. BUT, this time, I didn’t vanish mysteriously… I said my goodbyes… fighting back tears and allowing laughter take over. 

Mir with the finalized pamphlets

      Now we at a youth hostel in the Mokolodi Nature Reserve (just outside of Ramotswa). I saw white people for the first time in three weeks. It was initially shocking—trying to converse with my fellow white travelers. I began to get used to the Batswana way of life—the straight-forwardness, the honesty, the trueness of their nature. At first, to me, these cultural norms seemed ludicrous; now they seem customary. There are no social barriers between people in rural Ramotswa—there’s no bullshitting. If someone wants to be your friend they say, “I want to be your friend”. In the western world, there is a complex process behind building a friendship… you start from the bottom then work your way up. In Botswana, there’s a striking togetherness. People are accepting, loving, blunt and so honest. I started to forget about the strange taboos that exist in the Western world… ones that I’m now working to break away from. There are implicit undertones in almost everything that people say. We are expected to understand the subtle hints… everything means something else. 

Sunset in Ramotswa (photo by YarGnar)

         

I feel both accomplished and unaccomplished. I’ve achieved a lot in Ramotswa—I taught fifteen people the ways of Photoshop. I’ve created a pamphlet for the District Health Office that will help them build AIDS awareness. I’ve crocheted many hats for the sick people. I’ve given all my time, my money and my energy to the program. I’ve made some wonderful friends. I’ve learned so much about myself. At the same time, three weeks was too short… too short to see the fruits of my labors… too short to make long-term change… Yarrow and I were just beginning to understand how things work and now we are gone. I feel like we’ve helped a lot, but I wish we could have stayed longer. At the same time, it was mentally and physically draining—staying longer would have been difficult, but leaving is also difficult. There’s no easy way out of this one.  We’ve done our best and that’s all we can do.

Dancing in the moonlight

Memories--gettin' down African style.

My time spent in Ramotswa was enjoyable and disheartening. Frustrating and satisfying. Difficult and easy. Uplifting and depressing. It has brought me contentment… followed by sadness.  I’ve laughed and I’ve cried. There has been a complex array of emotions that I’ve felt. I’ve found that the only way to summarize my time in Ramotswa is by contradicting myself. It has been confusing and enlightening—a wonderful learning experience. 

Eating with our fingers

Back to Cape Town tomorrow… We met a couple in Botswana named Hillary and Willem. These two own a farm down the Garden Route in South Africa. They’ve invited us to come stay with them for a while. They have a dozen horses, a vineyard, a garden and a spare bedroom—what more could you ask for? We had an instant click with them and are looking forward to living on their peaceful farm in Villiersdorp. Making wine, riding horses and gardening sounds divine! Can’t wait…

Some of the work I did in Ramotswa:

THE FINAL PRODUCT, INSIDE

FINAL PRODUCT, OUTSIDE

The Girls

     Yarrow and I have acquired a posse. Wherever we go in Ramotswa, we are continuously trailed by a sizeable group of adolescent Batswana girls. They somehow seem to be able to locate us no matter where we are in the village. They follow us to the grocery store, to work…they even follow us home. They grab longingly at our straight hair and tell us how beautiful our white skin is. They tell us that they hate their dark skin. They are so affected by the media that they don’t even realize how exotically gorgeous they are; I constantly reassure them.

            When I pull out my camera they strike a pose—just like the girls on America’s Next Top Model. They push each other out of the way, fighting for the spotlight. They laugh uncontrollably at everything we say. They never ask us any questions. Silence is never awkward—it’s filled with their high-pitched nervous laughter. I crocheted them all red headbands. Now they wear them all over town like some sort of girl band… or a gang. 

Yarrow, Leidso and Hala

            Then there’s the girl that lives below us. Her name is Hala... she’s eleven, but looks about seven. She has a little brother named Leidso… he’s five, but looks about three. Hala is a self-sufficient little lady—she does her own dishes, washes her clothes by hand, sweeps the floor, cooks for herself and takes care of Leidso. Whenever we get home from work, Hala and Leidso are always there to greet us. They come running down the driveway with wide-open arms, smiles and endless giggles. Needless to say, we’re smitten.

            The past two days have been spent performing some real, grueling manual labor. We are clearing the soccer field, an ominous task that has been looming over the program coordinators’ heads for the past few months—it’s extremely overgrown and unruly. We sweat under the hot African sun as we drill our shovels into the hard red earth, attempting to clear out the relentless grass and weeds. It’s hard work, but it feels good to work hard. Aside from that, Yarrow and I have been working on creating some AIDS awareness pamphlets and brochures. We’ve translated them from English to Setswana (Botswana’s national language) with the help of our Batswana friends. It’s been fun and difficult… turns out Setswana is a hard language to translate...especially when it comes down to translating AIDS-related, sexual terms. For example, the word ‘semen’ translates into a seven-word sentence in Setswana! So, as you can imagine, we’ve got our work cut out for us… 

So, all is well on the African front. Ta-ta for now!

             

These Days

           Lazy days. A fly buzzes by, breaking the ‘silence’. But really, in Africa, it is never silent—if you listen closely. There’s always the comforting hum of the crickets at night and during the day there are layers upon layers of different bird noises coming from all directions. The distant purr of a motorbike, the monotonous dinging from a bell that is tied to the neck of a goat, children laughing wildly. Today, the sun beats down from a cloudless sky onto the brown shoulders of hard-working builders. They are constructing a simple house made of red bricks. Kids are playing soccer on the orange dirt road. People walk leisurely past them in a manner that suggests ‘I don’t have anywhere to be, at least not any time soon’.

            Herds of cows aimlessly roam the village, searching for fresh sprouts of green grass. The people say that they belong to someone, but I’ve never seen them under supervision. The same goes for the wandering groups of goats… and donkeys... and chickens. The town is overrun with livestock. Yarrow and I try to catch them, but never succeed. Yarrow almost caught a chicken, once.
 

            We entertain ourselves by playing guitar, crocheting hats for the people at the center, playing soccer with the locals and wandering. Life is simple here, there’s not too much going on. I think the Africans like it that way. We eat simple, we play simple, we breathe simple. I can’t complain. During the heat of the day, life is stagnant… still, dry, hot. During the night, well, the night is forbidden. We are not allowed to leave the house. ‘It’s too dangerous’ they say, but they will never tell us why. I can only imagine.

            Make-up has become a memory. Showers have gotten more difficult—I call it ‘the third world shower’: where you sit in about an inch of water and splash it over yourself repeatedly. I don’t mind it. We hand wash our clothes. Air conditioners are non-existent. The power goes off at least five times a day (which can be annoying when trying to cook dinner), but at least we have power. It’s a different lifestyle… I could get used to it. It’s remote, but not extremely… I mean, we have (slow and unreliable) wireless internet for crying out loud!

              

The Positive Side

This morning, things were still feeling a little uneasy… I had to teach Photoshop to fifteen people. This would not have been so much of a challenge if we had the necessary resources. I finally truly understand what it means to be a teacher without the funds to teach—we have two computers, fifteen people and one teacher. The ratio is completely off. It’s stressful. It’s impossible. I realized that I must get creative; I have to come up with a way to teach everybody… I have a new plan that I’m going to execute tomorrow—let’s hope it works.

            After a semi-traumatic morning, I was beginning to feel deflated. My teaching techniques were failing. I was failing. Then, things took a swing for the better… I had forgotten about the most important rule in teaching: “one mustn’t only be a teacher, but also a friend”. I started talking to my ‘students’ and getting to know them… sharing stories, making jokes. We began to really understand each other. We compared our life stories; languages, cultural norms and we began to realize that we really are not so different. I even learned how to speak very simple Setswana, the language of their tribe.

            After the day was over, I was feeling high again—energized by the fact that I finally felt welcomed into the lives of the people around me. I felt like I was one of them, skin color and differences were irrelevant. The culture shock was beginning to ware off. 

As the sun began to sink in the sky, I sat on the hood of an old truck, taking shelter under the shade of a widespread thorny tree. I watched the ladies soccer team practice, kicking up rust colored dust as they dribbled and passed the ball. The big ants were migrating hurriedly across my toes, but this time I was too content to care. A tall, beautiful African man from SEDYEL (South East District Youth Empowerment League—the place where I’m giving the Photoshop class) came and sat next to me and flashed me a big, white smile. We began chatting—he spoke slowly and gently in a smooth Setswana accent. We talked about his tribe and the hierarchy of chiefs within his village. I asked him when he would be chief. He asked me about California. He told me he had never seen the ocean before. Or snow. It made me realize how much I’ve seen and done. I am lucky that I have the means to do so.

African skin is so beautiful. It’s velvety and silky like 80% dark chocolate. It’s flawless. It makes me yearn for dark skin, or at least a good tan…

                                        Over and out… until next time!

The Reality

We arrived in Ramotswa, Botswana yesterday around 6 PM after a short, sweaty bus ride. Once again, we were the only two white people on the bus, this time out of about fifty. I’m beginning to get used to the gawking and staring. The way they watch us, it sometimes seems like everybody in Ramotswa, from small children to elders, has never seen a real white person before.

            Life is not easy here, I can see people know and assume that because of my skin color, I have an easy life. It’s true… it’s painfully true. I’m here to help, but how can I help if I don’t truly understand what it is to have an underprivileged life. It’s only now that I realize I have not witnessed or experienced any true hardships in my life. There is pain in the eyes of the locals. I have not yet seen anyone who is HIV positive and on his or her death bed, and I can already feel the pain, the reality of it all.

            Yarrow and I have been experiencing a bit of culture shock. We’ve stayed in hostels and camped our way through Namibia… but even then, we still had a haven to call home and run to when we felt uncomfortable. Here, not so much. We are right in the midst of it all—the only two white girls for miles. We are living in the house of the program coordinator, Kitso. So far, things seem very unorganized… I guess that’s part of the reason why we are here—to organize things.

         Then there’s the culture difference. Today, I found myself staring in sheer disgust at a grey slab of frilly cow stomach on the butcher’s cutting board, the smell of rotting meat made me nauseous. I realized, to somebody, this might be a gourmet meal. I spook when large, fast-moving ants climb onto my feet and sting my toes… the locals are used to it. The claustrophobic, over-crowded, clammy bus rides are definitely an experience, but they still make me appreciate my air-conditioned car. I have grown up privileged, there’s no denying that. Being here makes me really feel the imbalance—the universal imbalance between third and first world. I feel that it’s time to start leveling things out. I want to prove to myself that I can live like the people of Ramotswa… I want to challenge myself. I want to understand. This is why I’m happy to be here, to start working towards balance… to give what I can and start pushing for social equilibrium. 

This has been very difficult and draining... I guess that's what I expected, but now it's more real than ever.

From Etosha to the Desert

Unfortunately, Yarrow and I were plagued by some bad travel luck... We took off on a five day safari with three men we hardly knew. It seemed like the best idea at the time because we were not old enough to rent a car... and they graciously offered to take us along. Also, upon arrival in Windhoek, Namibia, we were feeling a little bit uneasy and were feeling the culture shock. These new travel friends were our comfort in the initial period. I won't go into detail, but halfway through the trip we realized that they were not the kind of people we wanted to travel with... SO we ducked out of the situation and made our own way. This scenario sort of masked my experience in Namibia so far, but now we are free and able to focus on the good things. We learned along the way from both the positive and negative aspects that occurred. So here's to new beginnings...

 

We began our journey in Etosha National Park in central Namibia. Namibia is exceptionally beautiful. The freshness of spring is in the air. Tiny, helpless baby animals are everywhere—frolicking in the greenness that will soon turn into dryness. The summer is the wet season… it lasts only two months and then for the rest of the year, extreme desert conditions. Within the park we managed to spot lions, zebras, giraffes, ostriches, jackals, and countless species of birds. The scenery was unreal.

The sky is endless. There is no sky like the African sky—it stretches on for miles and miles with hardly any mountains to interrupt its vastness. Clouds are delicate and bubbly. Light shines through them like the heavens are stretching down to meet the earth. When it rains, it rains like the gods are furiously trying to punish and drown the world below… And the winds, the winds are like a stampede of a thousand wispy horses, dashing and thrashing through the atmosphere.
Lighting wildly cracks its whips on the dry earth of the Savannah. The midday sun is so blisteringly hot that even the lion is humbled by its ferocity. Then the fog rolls in to blanket the sun and the scarce mountains like they never even existed.

I’ve never felt so close to the heart of the initiation of everything. I know they’ve got some new theory about how humanity began in Israel, but I’m fully convinced that Africa possesses the soul of the world. In my opinion, after seeing it first hand, this is where we all come from—the raw, intense, vast lands of Africa. I can feel the history. I can see it in the ancient rock art that will forever be engraved into the stones of the desert. I can feel it in the wind that blows from the sand dunes, out over the sea. I can sense it in the eyes of the natives. This is home, Mama Africa.

Side note:

On the shuttle ride home from Swakopmund to Windhoek… Yarrow and I were the only two white people on a bus of about fifteen. The ‘shuttle bus’ was actually an old beat up Volkswagen—the speedometer was broken, the side window was hanging on its hinges, the seat belts didn’t work and to top it all off the driver was blasting Britney Spears as we sped (at an unknown speed) through the desert of Namibia. It was a beautiful moment.  

CAPE TOWN

         Last week I was a part of the coldest winter in Amsterdam and today I’m sweating in my bathing suit in the midst of an Africa summer. Saying goodbye to Amsterdam was sad—I didn’t realize how strong of bonds and friendships I had created until I left… it was a good experience. Europe taught me to be tough—not only in a physical sense, but in a mental sense also: I braved the coldest winter in 1,000 years, but also learned from the Dutch people to be straight forward…to say what I want, to be honest, to not care too much about what other people think. So, cheers to closing this wonderful and educational chapter in my life.  I’ll miss it.

            On to the present—I’m in Cape Town, South Africa. I’m staying with a friend at the moment, Brian, whom I met in New Zealand last year during my travels. He so courteously picked me up from the airport yesterday. This morning we went together to pick up Yarrow Jones, my travel partner/best friend. We are staying for a week at Brian’s home near Muizenberg before we head onto Namibia.

Let it be known, South Africa feels like home to me—my father grew up in Zimbabwe and spent his college years here in Cape Town. I adore exploring his old stomping grounds and can feel the positive energy everywhere—I love seeing where he learned to surf, where he went to college, the bars he used to drink at!  My father was right around my age when he lived here and I’m excited to experience South Africa through my own eyes, but in sort of the same way that he viewed it. I feel like I'm reliving his childhood.

Cape Town is a fantastic spot. Try to imagine… rock, craggy mountains encircling the city. crashing waves. children laughing. wind blowing through the swaying pine trees. the smell of freshly caught fish. cloudless skies. Also, It’s a town of breathtaking views, whether you’re high up marveling at the city below, or ground level feeling dwarfed and humbled by the surrounding mountains. I love it here.

 

So far, we have only got a taste of it. We’ve drank beer by the beach, explored Cape Point, seen seafaring penguins as well as heaps of baboons, met countless amazing people, seen the countryside, danced on the rocks by the sea… it’s been a dream—a relaxing experience before we head onto Namibia and Botswana to do some intense and also exciting volunteer work.

Big thank you to Brian, his family, lovely Aimee and all the crazy boys and girls who generously carted us around, showed us the sights, fed us and provided amazing company. It has been a perfect time experiencing the beauty and wonder of this epic city with the help of a few knowledgeable locals. BIG LOVE!

Onto tomorrow—a 23 hour bus ride awaits us… from Cape Town through to the sandy desert land of Namibia. I’m sad to leave Cape Town, but luckily we have planned to return shortly in the beginning of March. So goodbye for now CT, see you soon…