One of the last things I thought I would ever need in South Africa was a pair of mittens. Seems pretty illogical right, needing gloves on the African continent? This type of thinking was proved to be wrong this weekend as I ventured into the Drakensberg Mountains and into the mountainous kingdom of Lesotho. Four of my roommates and I decided to spend our long weekend off from school, thanks to South Africa’s many holidays, at the Sani Pass Lodge, at the foot of the only road for 100km south and 200km north that leads into Lesotho. We were picked up on Wednesday afternoon at our flat by the Overberg express, a van that provides door-to-door transport between destination. There was an older couple who had already been picked up from the Durban airport and was making their way home to Overberg, after spending time in Florida, as well. They were nice enough to allow the Americans to convince the driver to make a stop at a lovely restaurant in Pietermaritzburg: McDonald’s. Contrary to popular belief, McDonald’s does not rule the world and there is only one in Durban and not very accessible to people without vehicle transport, so after hearing that our roommates who did this trip over spring break made a pit at Mickey D’s, we asked our driver to stop there the first chance we got. After picking up two more passengers, we hit the road for our final stretch of the journey. It’s a good thing I like my roommates, because we were packed like sardines in the van for the rest of the trip, but we made it to our accommodations, a place called the Sani Pass Lodge that evening, safe and sound. We were all sharing a dorm room with three sets of bunk beds, and luckily they came with three blankets, because it was quite a chilly night. We booked our activities for the weekend, played a few rounds of hearts, and headed off to bed.
In the morning, we met our guide Matthew for a trip up the mountain to Lesotho, and when I say up, I mean it. Literally. Our transport for the day was a Land Ranger (4x4xFar to be exact) and I had the pleasure of sitting in the enclosed back portion where I was treated to an ‘African massage’ as he called it, a.k.a. lots of bumps in the road. Our first stop was at what remains of a trading post that was used by the Sotho people and the South Africans. Nothing too exciting, but of course we happened to arrive just when the South African police were busy at work loading about four huge bricks of marijuana into their truck. Apparently, they had had a successful morning searching for drugs that had been brought over the border and left for someone on our side.
The landscape in this part of the country is absolutely amazing. Words really don’t do it justice. Rolling hills, mountain peaks, waterfalls, South Africa really is a beautiful country. About half way up the road, we reached the South African passport authority, got our stamps, and continued up the hill to the Lesotho border. After 27 hairpin turns, we reached the top, got our stamps, and continued into the country side. There is very little in this part of Lesotho, but we were able to witness the sheering of sheep, had lunch on a cliff overlooking pastures, and stopped in for a visit at a woman’s hut for some homemade bread and a sip of Sotho beer. After handing our left over lunch to some people on the side of the road, we made a final stop at the Sani Pass Chalet for a quick drink at the highest pub in Africa. If I didn’t know any better, I could of sworn it was December and Christmas was just around the corner. This place gave off a very cozy feel, and since the clouds had rolled in, you couldn’t really see much more than 30 feet into the distance. After a quick drink, we headed back down the mountain, making it to the SA passport authority just in time for their 4pm closure.
The next morning, after debating about whether or not the rain would hold off, we decided to suck it up and go on a Bushman rock painting tour. This time our guide was named Bill, and he was quite the mountain man. At age 83, he was in better shape than any of us and knew just about everything you could ever wish to know about the Drakensberg Mountains. Our hike took all day, but we made it to the site of the rock paintings by lunch. We saw three different paintings on different rocks, and the final one was somewhat of a hidden treasure, according to Bill, who even discovered new paintings that he had never seen before while we were there. On the way home, a snake went across the path in front of Lisa, who jumped to the side, causing the snake to rise up and hiss at us. Bill assured us that it was harmless, and began chasing it through the field in an attempt to get it on his walking snake and show it to us up close. He got close, but only flung it further it away. Shame. To my dismay, the group decided it would be a great idea to take the “short cut” home, which meant that we would cross a river instead of taking a foot bridge. So, after scaling down the side of a mountain (literally) we came to the icy cold river, removed our shoes, formed a human chain and walked across the stones to the other side. Great idea guys. But no, overall it was fine, and it cut about 2km from our walk back. When we got back to the lodge, Bill demonstrated how the bushman would make tools and gave us all a porcupine needle as a parting gift. We all wished that he would be our grandpa, as he is the coolest old man I have ever met.

I’m not sure what exactly it was, but sometime in the last few weeks I have gotten over my fear of kombi’s. Like I’ve stated before, they are the main form of public transportation in urban settings in this country and are the 15-passenger vans that my dad drives/we used for field trips in elementary school. Usually, they have lovely pictures on the sides (such as half naked women, American rappers like Eminem, or a ton of yellow dots? really?) and catchy names. I don’t know why exactly, because it’s not like they don’t already stand out, what with the blaring house music and the drivers shouting at you as they drive by. But my point is that I’ve decided that I actually like riding in them and not exactly knowing where I’m going makes me adventurous. Perhaps it’s because I feel comfortable in this city or that I’ve realized that I’ll probably never have quite the same sort of experience again. Plus, I figure it will make me a lot more tolerable of the CATA bus next year.

So, on Saturday I met up with two of my roommates at the shopping center just up the road from where I live because they had found a way to get to the market area downtown via public transportation. This is quite a feat because everything is word of mouth. We ended up taking a bus, but instead of getting off where we were supposed to, we took it all the way to the bus depot, where the driver tried to help us. And by helping I mean shouting to a man outside that we were tourists and needed to get to the market. Exactly how I like to start a 20 minute walk through downtown Durban on the busiest day in the city. But, we held our heads high and walked through the streets bustling with people headed every which way. We eventually made it to our destination, the Victoria Street Market, which consists of two buildings, one selling crafts and one selling fish/meat. After a few successful purchases (we passed on the baby chicks going for about $2 each, next time…) we headed back out to the street for our walk to an apparent bus stop that would take us back home. This time, we passed about a block of street vendors selling various animal parts. Bones, hides, hair of mysterious animals (or at least I hope) that serve a medicinal purpose to many locals. Can you say culture shock? And, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it either while being here, but it gets you every time.

Without any problems, we made it to the street where a bus stop was, but caught a kombi again. For us, this was quite an achievement because it is virtually impossible to get home from downtown taking a kombi. We made it fairly close to home, about a ten minute walk. But, back to my original point of wanting to take kombi’s more often. Not only are they cheap, but talk about a great way to see things. I could stare out the windows and watch people all day long. One of my favorite sightings so far is a pool table in the middle of a market place (the type of market place that sells food and white people don’t go to, for a visual). And people were playing a game in the middle of the afternoon. Also, the tables where you can use a phone to make a call are a pretty interesting sight. Not payphone style, but straight up house phone on a table. Only in Africa.

This picture was taken at Howard College, where I am studying. Behind, are builidngs, but ahead is a large grassy hill that usually is scattered with students eating lunch (off to the left is where a lady we refer to as "veg lady" has her stand, a few of our group helps her out during lunch) or just relaxing inbetween classes.

These are pictures from a while ago on one of my walks home from campus. The first picture gives you a view of the neighborhood, downtown, and the Indian Ocean. The second picture is closer to my flat, I live one block down this hill and to the left a little, but you can't see my building because other ones are in the way. In the distance is downtown Durban, and beyond that, the beach.

Here is North Beach, the one that we most frequently go to. It is about at ten minute taxi ride from our flats, and for an even greater experience (and cheaper way to get there), we occasionally take kombi's.

I fully acknowledge that I am not a morning person, but there is something refreshing and self-fulfilling about being awake when the day begins. Today was my second attempt at rowing in the Bay of Natal. First of all, I am not a “sport person”. Rather, the competitiveness that was alive in me as a child slowly began to recede with age, and while it comes back everyone now and again, for the most part it remains dormant. Second of all, this is a sport that requires coordination and strength, both of which I often struggle with. Either way, I did not result in the boat capsizing and was able to maintain an even stroke for the majority of the time.
Really, the whole experience, from the moment we get picked up at 4:45am to the time we get back home around 7:30, is worth mentioning. Barry, a fellow student at UKZN, has offered to give the six of us Americans that it takes to complete and eight person boat (that’s right, they would basically be down a female team if it were not for us Michigan State Spartans). The only problem is that Barry drives a truck, so one lucky person gets shotgun and the rest get to ride in the bed of the truck through the streets of Durban. Going there isn’t that bad, except for maybe the wind when his speed gets up to 50 mph, but by the time we head home, everyone is on their way to work, school, or whatever else it is people here do, and it’s just a little unsettling being the center of other driver’s attention. However, when else will I get to ride in the back of a truck through a large metropolitan city and not worry about getting reprimanded by the police?
The bay that we row in is the antithesis of cleanliness. The first morning I knew I was in for a treat when a jet-black (as if it was consumed by disease and foreign substances) fish was washed up on the bank where we put the boat in. The water leaves a brown, frothy substance on my calves after one minute that I’m pretty sure is the cause of my skin feeling as if it is bubbling. But, by far the most pleasant thing to observe are the pools of oil/gasoline/chemicals that pool on the surface of the water all throughout the bay. And, to top it all off, Barry informed us that it isn’t uncommon for sharks to venture into the bay so it would be advisable that we keep the boat afloat at all times.
Overall though, it’s not that bad. They host a ton of social activities that might be fun, and I feel like I’m being physically active for once in my life. I’m not so sure how I feel about the whole competing thing, but maybe I’ll just pull out the “international card” and turn it into more of a game and a serious event. One thing though, once you go to one sporting practice at this university, it is just assumed that you are the new member of the team. They suck you in so fast that you have no way to get out, so even if I wanted to back out of rowing now, I’m pretty sure I would be condemned by all of UKZN. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
We are celebrating the first of five birthday’s this coming weekend. Kate from Montana is turning 22 and a there was talk of getting a group together to go white water rafting, but that is sounding a little iffy now, at least for this weekend. In either case, she has requested that she wants to go to the revolving restaurant in the harbor for dinner. From what I’ve heard and read, this is a restaurant atop a building that rotates 360 degrees while you eat dinner so that you can have a view of the entire city of Durban.

Realization from the weekend: I am not, as much as I sometimes try to be, the “out doors-y” type. With that being said, I’m still glad that I went on the trip, if nothing more than to see that part of the country and spend time with other international students. We started our trip Friday afternoon on campus, where in typical South African fashion, our bus arrived about an hour late. Luckily, we had a decent tour bus to accommodate all 40+ of us, but it did have its unique charms. Most notably, it rattled incessantly, to the point where I thought that it was probable that the engine was about to fall off into the road. We arrived to a place called Veyane Cultural Village about three hours after we left, near the city of St. Lucia. This place has made a living of off showcasing traditional Zulu culture to guests, so we were housed in around twenty different hut-type buildings. That evening, we were dressed in Zulu attire and treated to a performance by the males who work and live there. They then encouraged all of us to join in, much to my enjoyment. Riiiight. Luckily, by the time they reached me, they were running out of time and pulled us in to the circle in groups rather than individually.

Afterwards, we were served traditional Zulu food, which consisted of basically carbs and meat, with a few veggies. It was decent, but definitely not something I would want to live off of. Finally, we ended the night by watching a movie called “The Native who Caused all the Trouble”.

The next morning, we woke up bright and early (4:30am to be exact) and headed out to Hluhluwe game reserve, where we drove through the park in our tour bus and stuck out heads and cameras out of the window. Not to sound ungrateful, but I had basically already experienced a game reserve drive so this was not the most exciting time of my life. However, we did see a few lions which I did not see the first time around. After the Hluhluwe (pronounced sha-shlu-ie) adventure, we headed back to town and made a quick stop at the orphanage we were going to be spending the afternoon at, only to be told to come back in an hour when more children would be there. So instead, we journeyed over to the Saturday market that was going on and wandered around there. I’m sure everyone was just as interested to see 40 wide-eyed white tourists as we were to see them. Fortunately, we broke into smaller groups rather than travel as one large mob. In my group, we walked up and down the market aisles where they were mainly selling trinkets and food, so nothing of great interest to me. We went into a sport shop because one of the people I was with was looking for a cheap knock-off soccer jersey. The store owner started talking to me, asking me where we were from and why we were here. As I turned to leave, he informed me to keep my bag close because “they like to take them here”. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this, but the store owner was of Middle Eastern descent and all of the business patrons and basically everyone else is black. Not that I think he was encouraging the idea that black South Africans are not trustworthy, but it is these little things that I have been noticing between the race groups that have made me wonder. For most of my life, I have only witnessed prejudices between whites and blacks, but in this country, and especially this area with the presence of the large Indian population, I have often found myself wondering what their relationship with each other is like. This is partly related to the visible class difference between the Indian population and the black population. I realize that this is partly related to the percentage of each group in the total population, but the Indian population is very well off here, at least in comparison to the black population, so I wonder if there are any feelings being harbored surrounding this.

Anyways, we returned back to the orphanage and were treated to a song and dance performance by the 25 or so children living there. The significance of this orphanage is that it is home to all AIDS children, either directly or indirectly affected by the disease. Here, we socialized with the children and then had lunch. Once again, I’ve already had a similar experience like this before, but this one differed slightly because there was a larger proportion of older children and the fact that it is situated in the province of the country with the highest HIV/AIDS infection rate, with at least 40% of the population infected, compared to around 20% of the general South African population. I always leave places like this, especially orphanages (I say always like this is a weekly occurrence, when in reality this in only my third trip to an orphanage in South Africa, and one of them I was only there for about a half hour) with feelings on uneasiness. I haven’t pinpointed exactly why this is, but I do know that I have extreme turmoil over the photographing of the children leaving at these places as if they were a sight to see and not true human beings. Of course the kids enjoy having their picture taken once they realize what’s going on and they automatically want to use your camera, and to my disagreement, many people on the trip handed the cameras right over to the kids and had them take picture. I have just as big of problem with this, even though I know it probably isn’t that big of a deal. I guess I just have an ethical issue with it, that they only way to get these kids excited and to like you is to flash your $200 digital camera, rather than just playing with them and giving them old-fashioned attention. I understand its cute to have photos of them to show all your friends back home, but seriously, take a step back and realize what’s going on here. These kids will never see concentrated wealth like a digital camera represents so is that really the best way to spend an afternoon with them???

Moving on. We left the orphanage after lunch at headed closer to the city of St. Lucia where we went on a boat ride at the Smangaliso Wetlands park and saw hippos and crocodiles while cruising down a river that empties in the Indian Ocean about 3 miles down the way. We then finally made our way back to Veyane for the night and a Braii.

On Sunday, we had breakfast and then packed up and made our way back to Durban, with a detour to the Richards Bay area. After a 30 minute intense bus ride down a gravel road (bags were falling off of the storage above the seats left and right and I think it would have been possible to get shaken baby syndrome if there were any infants on board), we came to a community leaving between logging fields and the sand dunes that sit on the coast. This community, the Sabokwe community to be exact, is a small group of people that has been moved around numerous times in the past decade, almost always because of Apartheid laws. They now reside on land that is not very fertile and the water pump that they government gave them three years ago has yet to be connected because no one there knows how to and the government has not given them any support as to how to do it. We took a walking tour of their neighborhood, where I made a new friend who kept following me around and finally got up the courage to grab my hand which she did not let go of for the next hour. The high point of this visit were the soccer games that our group played against the local kids. We had a girl team and a boy team (don’t worry, I didn’t play) and for the first time in seven years, we had a winning team. The girls defeated the first group (mind you, they were mainly 6 to 14 year olds vs. college students), but they boys were defeated in an intense game. Once again, we were served lunch (traditional Zulu culture always provides guests with food and drink) and then boarded the bus for the trip back home, hot, sweaty, sun burnt, and dehydrated.

Monday, I woke up nice and early and walked up to campus. I was supposed to have my anthropology course, but it recently came to my attention that I have yet another course conflict with my gender studies course which I don’t want to drop. So, instead, I spent the morning navigating congested hallways, angry students, and confusing procedures, but was successful and now (fingers crossed) I am finished with schedule changes. The course I’m taking in place of anthropology is luckily a course that has been of interest from the beginning. It is called Intercultural Communication, and we met today for about 10 minutes and the prof. just explained a few aspects of the course and then we were dismissed. Class was cancelled for Tuesday and I don’t have any class on Wednesday ever, so I’m free until Thursday now. That means one thing: laundry in our washer which takes an hour to wash and then using this great new invention called the wind dryer. Figure that one out.

On Tuesday, I got word from Ashley that the students were protesting on campus because housing was over-booked by 300 students. I didn’t have class so I wasn’t on campus to witness all of this, but it sounds like quite the event. Not that I’m complaining about not having class, but honestly, I’m very anxious for classes to actually begin so I can have a routine and meet other students.

So I have a very long post typed and ready to post, but of course the computer won't read my flash drive right now, so that idea is out the window. However, I fully intend to use fast wireless tomorrow morning at the cafe around the corner from my flat, and even better, if you have breakfast it's free for the first hour! Couldn't get much better than that. Also, I'm finally going to post pictures on both here and facebook.

Never have I had to be so patient.

I thought that I would be away from the computer until next week, but I have had internet access for about the past five days. So much for that. I got to campus with time to spare before we leave for our trip to Zululand so naturally, I ended up in the Superbowl (the graduate student computer lounge that we have access to). I feel like an idiot because I'm hauling around my carry-on suitcase which doesn't seem that small anymore, especially when the majority of the people I'm with just have backpacks. But I'm over it. I just hope there is enough room for me to store it on the bus, or whatever form of transportation we're taking.

In other news, my class schedule seems completely screwed up again. Grrrreat. But, I have next week to figure it out hopefully, as my one class doesn't start until the 19th.

Alright, we're out.