wine if you want to

  You might be asking yourself,

       "Why hasn't she written anything lately about scary bus rides, or dangerous this or that...?"

       (You see, I like to fancy myself that you are thinking about me all of the time.)  

       Well, there is a good answer to that question.  I discovered the best thing that's happened to South Africa since Nelson Mandela, and it comes in the form of safe, easy, worry-free transportation up and down the entire coast.  It's called the Baz Bus, and it's a brilliant concept. I paid one price, less than the cost of a flight, and rode from Johannesburg to Durban, and all the way down to Cape Town. 

        I purchased the "hop on hop off" program, which meant I could take as long as I wanted at each stop and get on or off as often as I liked. At each town I selected one of the hostels on their route, there were always several to choose from, and they dropped me right at the door.  When I was ready to leave, I called the Baz Bus and asked them to pick me up and take me to the next town. I didn't have to fight anyone at the bus station, worry about my luggage being stolen, or get ripped off by cabbies.  I met lots of fun people on the bus who were also traveling the coast like myself. Sometimes I'd get on the bus and run into friends from three towns back.  I highly recommend it if you are in the area.

The luggage goes into the trailer and then comes back to you, amazing!

One of my stops on the Garden Route was the town of Knysna. Its bay is known for having the best oysters around, so I gathered a posse from the hostel and convinced them to give it a go. We walked down to the marina and found the only place opened on a sunday evening.

One young Australian friend decided to be brave and try one of my raw oysters.

uh oh, it's past the teeth. too late to turn back now

clenching of the table?

Behind the smile lies  a suppressed gag reflex

We also went to Mitchells, the largest Micro Brewery in South Africa.

I'm not much of a beer drinker and it appears I decided to take a nap during the tasting,
which is no reflection on the beer, it was quite tasty.

       I then moved on to the very small town of Wilderness, South Africa. It was gorgeous. These photos are all taken from the balcony of my back packers lodge.  I stayed two weeks, and then had to force myself to leave this view.

Beautiful hike to a waterfall.

hanging over the edge

Went up to "The Map of Africa". From up here you can see how the
river cuts around the mountain in the perfect shape of the continent.

        Next stop was the South African wine country. The jumping off point is the quaint, college town of Stellenbosch, which is full of architecture with a Dutch influence.

Harvest time! In all of my life I've never managed to be at a
 vineyard during harvest. Exciting!

        The Baz Bus dropped me at my hostel just after dark.  As I walked in, I had to weave among a crowd of people to make it near the reception desk.  Evidently there was a graduation in the next few days, so the place was packed. Several people were ahead of me, as I waited in line.  In front were two African women, one of which was very large in stature. Ok very, very large. It seems there was a problem with her reservation. 

       "Ma'am, we have your reservation in the women's dorm, but all of the bottom bunks have been taken.  There are only two top bunks left."

       Silence throughout the room.

      "Do I look like I can make it to the top bunk? I need a bottom bunk."

      "Well, the only thing I can offer is a private room that is a little more expensive.  It sleeps two, but it's on the men's hall."

       Silence.

       "Do I look like I want to stay on the men's hall and share a bathroom with them?  Oh no, that won't do at all. I can't stay with the men." She looked at her friend, then for some reason whipped her head around in my direction, and continued.  

       "I bet SHE won't have to stay on a top bunk, with the men." Assuming she meant because I was white, I shrugged and gave a small, friendly I'm-trying-to-sympathize-with-your-pain smile, while in my mind I was thinking, I am so glad I have a confirmed reservation.

       "Ma'am if you stay in that room one night, then tomorrow you can move and claim a bottom bunk on the women's hall."

       "Hmmmph. Does it look like I have a choice now? No, it doesn't."  She pulled out her wallet, and then huffed off to get her bags.  The next two women in line gladly scooped up the top two bunks in the women's dorm. Finally it was my turn.

       "Hello, I have a reservation under Zaytoun."

       "Are you sure?"

        "Yes, I have a confirmation number."

        "No, are you sure you're Zaytoun?"

        I laughed, "Yes, I'm pretty sure."

        He looked slightly embarrassed, and lowered his voice. 

       "Ma'am, I am sorry but for some reason, from your name, we thought you were a man. We have you booked in the men's dorm, and we just gave our last two beds away."  I burst out laughing! I got the giggles, and couldn't stop.

       "It's ok, really. It will be fine, I'm certain."  I almost described some of the crazy places I'd stayed in the last few months, but it wasn't really necessary. I went to the men's hall and walked into my room.  An African man wearing glasses was reclining on his bed reading one of the many newspapers spread around him.  This was uncharacteristic of most African men I had run across. Ah, back in the world of academia... how refreshing, I thought.  We exchanged pleasantries, and I went down to eat the dinner I'd brought with me.  

       I went outside to sit beside a beautiful koi pond, and had a clear view into the community kitchen.  Inside were people preparing dinner from things they'd purchased at the market. I watched as bodies wove and bobbed around each other, trying to get to utensils, the stove, and the refrigerator. There were many instances of sharing, numerous spills, collisions and laughter. I was mesmerized for almost an hour and I realized a tear was running down my cheek. I missed the chaos of family.

       Later, in the middle of the night, I awoke as another man joined us. Exhausted, he fell into bed and quickly went to sleep.  I stayed awake listening to the rhythmic sounds of the men sleeping. The deep breathing, slight snores, and noises a man makes turning and moving in the night. I was surprised that somehow I never really paid attention to this before, possibly taking it for granted. In the morning I pretended to be asleep just to hear the routines of a man in the morning as he prepares for his day.

       After breakfast, we were back in our room, packing up our belongings.  The door was opened to let in a little cool air. We heard the door across the hall open and suddenly the room darkened by a shadow blocking the light.  There, the robust woman stood surveying the room, her mouth gaping open. Suddenly the loudest, longest belly laugh filled the room.  

       "Oh my Lord!" She slapped her side, and then raised her hands. "Come here baby girl and let me give you a hug!" As I approached she grabbed me, pulled me into her soft ample bosom, and held me with arms full of comfort saying, "Oh Lord, I promise, I will never whine again!"

     

seal the deal

Plettenburg Bay

             I attended a bachelor party.  Yes, me, a girl. I witnessed a man in the last throes of single hood.  I also witnessed a man being sentenced to death row. It was the same party.

       That’s the thing about traveling.  The unexpected always happens, and sometimes you brush up against, not just other people traveling, but also other people in the midst of living their lives.  I was in Plettenburg Bay, South Africa when I went up to the rooftop of the back packers hostel I was staying in, to see what I could see. Up top was a bar filled with hilarious men in the midst of preparing and ‘pre gaming’ for a bachelor party. They’d left the girls behind and brought all sorts of provisions for the evening to beat all evenings; intentioned to be the last fun night out the groom would have for the rest of his life. As I observed (and accepted an invitation to join them in a round of celebratory shots) I pondered where that meant he would find his fun from now on, and what form it would take.

       I didn’t know anything about this man or the woman he was marrying, but I couldn’t help but wonder how much of themselves they were about to give away. Love can be tricky. How do you maintain who you are and at the same time, compromise for the sake of the relationship? Often we relate to each other in certain ways simply because at some point, in the early stages, it became fixed as a habit. Rhythmic patterns of behavior are formed without us even realizing, and before we know it, we are operating on autopilot. Never reevaluating the validity. So in the early days how do you know how much of yourself to give up, and how much do you fight for before the grooves are too deep? Do you always have to give an arm and a leg?

       On this journey I have been living with a clamor of voices inside my head. A thousand wars have been waged in my mind with the voices of the past. Which is mine? I have layers of all types of relationships in my life and they combine to make me who I am today, for which I am grateful, but what of that needs to be discarded now and what should be reserved? I dove right into that compromise at such an early age, as I was standing on the brink of adulthood and I have never lived without it, until now. I am finally beginning to break through the muddle, though.  Me. The authentic me bursts forth periodically giving me a taste of the possibilities for my life and it is glorious and fulfilling, a balm on my heart. I know now this is who I am supposed to be. Me.

       Earlier that morning I’d left my bed unmade.  The sheets were all rumpled and the pillows tossed aimlessly.  I just looked at them, staring, without moving.  He always implied it was lazy not to make the bed.  I was always trying to prove my value and my worth because I was a stay-at-home mom.  Adding lazy to the fact that I didn’t bring one thin dime into the household wasn’t something I could live with.  I realized though, this is my life now and I can be lazy if I want to. Really, what does that even mean? It’s so subjective, and I’ve built my life around NOT being it. What may be lazy to one person may not be to another, and what is wrong with being lazy once in a while?  Americans have built a billion dollar industry trying to go on vacation to be just that, lazy.  If I choose to leave my bed unmade in this lodge, on this day, does that make me less of a person? Could this be a small step in the healthy dismantling of perfectionism and over compensation in my life? One more glance at the disheveled mess on my bed and I headed out the door, guilt free, to swim with 3000 seals. 

       Along a northern facing rocky shore lives a colony of thousands of brown fur seals. The thought of an opportunity to swim among them was exhilarating.  The thought of jumping off the boat into the water at 15 degrees Celsius, on the other hand, was terrifying. I joined a group of people from Sweden and our guide explained it like this:

       “When we get into the water we will stay beside the boat.  For two minutes I will monitor each of you and make sure you are ok before we head over to the seals.  The water is so cold you will feel as though you cannot breathe. Actually it does take your breath away. Work through it, because your body will acclimate at about the two-minute mark. Do you understand?”

       He was looking at them, but I was the only one with a dumbstruck look on my face. What the cuss?! Have I mentioned how much I hate to be cold? Ugh, the proverbial bad with the good.  Its kind of like going to the doctor as a kid. You’ve got to take the shot before your mom gives you a treat at the end.

       “Ok,” I said to myself. “Let’s do this.”

       I jumped into the water and as I came back up, I found myself gasping for shallow breaths of air. I was immediately numb.  I had never experienced anything like this before.  Our guide checked in with each of us and sure enough, after two very, very long minutes, which I thought would certainly be my last, my body suddenly relaxed. I never would have believed it was possible.  Then came the treat… curious baby seals swimming over to say hello.  Mothers and fathers followed and soon we were surrounded by hundreds of them diving, rolling, and communicating with each other through loud calls. It was as though we'd been invited to a huge happy party. Their playfulness was beautiful. Becoming a human popsicle was well worth the prize.

         When I got back to my room that evening, my bed wasn’t made. The room looked unkempt, disorganized and sloppy.  I didn’t like it at all.  Not one single bit. Even the sheets didn’t feel the same as I slipped into bed. I decided, ‘Tomorrow I will make the bed when I arise, and the next day, and the day after that...’  This time though, I own it, it’s mine. And as for the groom, I think he has the right idea. It appears he has decided only to give up an arm. 

      

I asked all the guys what he was supposed to do 

with that arm next week as he walked to the altar.  

With surprise they looked at each other, shrugged, and said, 

"We don't know. A toast to the drinking arm!"