November 17-23: Durban

The Intl Studs on one of our last nights. I miss them already!

Hello Lovelies!

It's been a while, and there are many (mis)adventures to report. But first, a word on final exams. Final exams here (and pretty much everywhere else except the US) are spanned over the course of a month, and that is because it is worth A WHOLE LOAD OF YOUR GRADE. So, naturally, I barely studied. results are posted on Dec 19th; we'll see if I passed anything.

After my final final on Nov 14, I headed off for a week in Durban with the ladies. My goodbye to Grahamstown was bittersweet. On one hand, I successfully finished two Jam Jars (among other libations), spent my last night in Friar's (good riddance!), and tipsy-snuggled with my good pals late into the night, but on the other, somebody stole my leather jacket. Thankfully, my money, phone, and knife were in my boots (best investment ever), but the bastards got my lipstick. I still miss that lipstick. There's a special level of hell for people like that.

In the morning (4 hours later), I blearily carried all of my stuff (ALL OF IT) out of Res, held back tears to say goodbye to sweet, dear Gemma, met up with Deike, and schlepped my sorry still-drunk ass to the bus station. Deike and I were pretty sure that the world was about to end when the bus showed up TEN MINUTES EARLY and we left ON TIME. IT'S A MIRACLE, HALLELUJAH! Or a sign of the apocalypse. Either way, we gleefully got on the bus for a 14-hour ride, most of which I spent sleeping off my hangover.

This is what Durban should look like. However, while we were there, it was raining most the time and a little sad-looking.

We arrived in Durban at close to midnight, scoped out our hostel, and chatted with some locals before collapsing exhausted into the most uncomfortable beds ever. The next day… Oh the next day. We had been invited by the local people living in the hostel to attend the German Bierfest in town. Since Deike is German, and I have a slutty German barmaid dress, we hopped onto one of the local taxis with them. The local taxi system is all over South Africa and consists of minivans that will take you and 13 other random passengers to a certain common area in the city for 5 Rand. Very cheap, and if you know where you're going, very safe (except in JoBurg though). We got to the tacky tent, got ourselves liters of beer, tasted all and proceeded to have a grand ol' time. The pictures prove it, oh boy, they sure do.

Celine arrived the next day, and we hit the town. We went to the Victoria Market, where colorful vendors hawk even more colourful spices and beaded jewelry. Then, we took a taxi to Ushaka, the touristy Water World by the ocean, and scoped out the attractions. We had some of the delicious local fair: bunny chow.

Fun Fact: Durban is home to a large percent of ethnically Indians and is famous for the extra spicy food that has it's own South African twist.

Bunny chow is a South African, specifically Durban, dish which involves hollowing out a loaf of bread, dumping hotter than Heidi Klum curry into it, then setting the fluff from the middle of the bread on top, mimicking a bunny's tail. It was a gloriously sunny day, and Durban's sun is notoriously as hot as it's cuisine, so we cooled down with a walk on the beach. We walked the entire length of the beach in Durban and marveled at how warm the Indian Ocean is.

We had decided we had enough of our stuffy, slightly dirty hostel so we switched to another one that was right next to Florida road, a nice hub of nightlife. This one had free wifi and a hot Scottish man working at the counter who starting playing and singing beautifully along with Michael Bublé. Hot Damn. As Teresa and Siina joined us, we continued exploring the city. We were also planning on partying hearty, but after a long day of walking around in the sun, we ended up just coming home and crashing every night. Like the cool people we are. But never fear! We had fun as well. We spent a whole day at Ushaka going on the water slides, floating along on tubes, gaping at giant fish in the aquarium, watching schticky seal and dolphin shows, and adding to our sun burns. There were also very good-looking Aussies (as always), Thanksgiving Hookah, and your average shenanigans. After relaxing for a week together, I said goodbye to my dear Europeans and headed to the Durban Airport for a flight to JoBurg to meet up with the Sis. More on our adventures later! I am now in a Starbucks (!) in Heidelberg, Germany, so obviously, I have quite a bit to catch up on, but I promise I will... just now :P

My Life is Awesome

Disclaimer: none of these photos were taken by me. They were either purchased, googled, or stolen from my companions.

I am so exhausted. It's the kind of exhaustion that comes from running on no more than 4 hours of sleep at a time, adrenaline, and pure, unadulterated happiness. It started with the start of SWOT week. I've heard several variations as to what SWOT stands for (Study Without Teaching; Study, Work, or Travel), but for universities that have an entire month allocated for final exams (in every country except the USA), it's the week-long break between classes and the beginning of exams that students are supposed to use to study.

Naturally, the Intl Studs decided to travel instead.

We took a trip to Storms River, the town associated with tourist activities in Tsitsikamma National Park. The area is absolutely beautiful, on a wave-beaten rocky coast with iconic mountains to the north. It's very lush and green, with many springs and frequent enough rain making it an ideal spot for tree farms and a source for a water bottling company, which is kindof interesting because…

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Fun Fact: Storms River and the streams in the area are all dyed brown from the natural tannins in the plants of the area. So pretty much it means that the water all looks like strong tea or coffee. It's a little weird at first, but you get used to it. Even the ocean is stained brown at the mouth of the river.

Our encampment waiting in Grahamstown

We arrived at about half past 1 AM on Oct. 27 after the longest 4-hr bus ride ever during which our POS bus played loud more-than-slightly racist standup comedy sketches and weird PG-13 movies. As if it wasn't enough that the bus was two hours late and forced us to wait in the cold wind and rain.

Still, we were in good spirits as we were picked up by people from our hostel. There was William, the driver that the hostel regularly uses, who wore a sparkly silver-sequined fedora (always), assured us that he loved us, he loved God, and that "safety is first." However, I'm pretty sure he was a little drunk haha. Nonetheless, his driving that night and throughout the trip was impeccable, and never once did I doubt his skill. He was one of the many locals we met that were simply super cool. We were also picked up by Yolande (sp?), the coolest mom you will ever meet who was staying at the hostel with her 12-yr old daughter. They were celebrating her daughter's birthday in style with bungee-jumping, sky-diving, and other outdoors adventures. She had volunteered to come help drive us since we couldn't all fit . The next night, she would pay for me to get sufficiently sloshed at the hostel bar even though all the rest of the IntlStuds were in bed. More on that later. Just know that she was freakin cool.

These are the guys that work at Dijembe Backpackers, the place where we were staying: Severiano (Sev) and Gerhard.

Sev (Left) dishing out the Milk Tart Shots, Gerhard (right) dishing out the smiles

Sev is a local guy, half-Scottish and half whatever the hell he feels like. He helps with the river tours and keep Dijembe running. He is secretly a neat freak and not-so-secretly an adrenaline junkie, cajoles guests to sign up for activities, tinkers with electronics, and generally shows off like the cocky SOB that he is. I kinda like him.

Gerhard is your typical skateboard bum who doesn't want to have a real job and just wants to live his life, carefree. He is a knife appreciator; he recognised my Buck knife and said that it reminded him of his uncle with quite the collection. His passions include listening to other peoples' stories and telling his own, dicking around, and making inappropriate comments. A pretty awesome dude.

Jess spending some sun time w/ us

Baria and Gemma, snuggling

The other regulars include Brad, the owner, who borders on the edge of creepy once in a while but is overall a pretty chill guy; Helena, the German woman who, like many others, got "stuck in Storms River" when she fell in love with the place and has been there ever since; three beautiful horses Baby, Baria, and Gracie and a pony named Smeagol; three spunky dogs Tiger, his son Achmed (named by Sev for the Dead Terrorist), and an adorable little spaniel Jess; Patches the cat; at least two maids who make delicious home-style food and keep the hostel in tiptop condition among others.

So back to the first night. We got there at about 2 AM, and after a couple rounds of Lemon Drops (a sugar-coated lemon slice with a shot of vodka. Suck, Shot, and Slice.), which I abstained from due to having just barely recovered from a cold, we went straight to bed. We all agreed in the morning that it was the best night's sleep we have had in ages. It's sad when the bed in a hostel is better than the bed one has been sleeping in for the past few months. The next day, the group split up, five going mountain biking, the other five, myself included, laying around in the sun for the morning, getting sunburnt, doodling in henna, bantering with the staff, then going horseback riding in the afternoon.

It was great because the horses were just hanging out in the yard prior to our ride, so we got to hang out with them. Since I was the smallest person, I rode on Smeagol, the plucky grey pony who made up for his size in spunk and attitude. Apart from an incident when me speeding Smeagol up a hill spooked Gemma's horse and we both ended up on our bums and when Gemma's horse quit on her and rolled over her leg (no permanent injuries, thank goodness), it was a beautiful sunny jaunt through the woods, led by Brad, who was slightly judgemental at our lack of experience and vigour. After our nature ride, we were given the option of continuing through the township to a trail by the freeway. A few of the group were pooped, so only Anna and I continued. There were two kids on our ride, so I switched out Smeagol for Tracy (I think?), a beautiful almost-black gelding. We slowly rode along the tree farms, Sev on foot leading the pony, appreciating the gorgeous sunset. After spending almost four hours on the back of a horse, I was surprisingly not sore and full of energy when I made the most epic entrance at Dijembe, confidently trotting in on the back of a horse. Too bad the only photos from the day of me are on my short little pony :P.

After a delicious braai, we shot the breeze around the fire with the young German volunteers also staying there and hung out at the bar. Brad needed to make a liquor run to the township tavern to restock the bar, and on a whim, Wout, Bec, Merel, and I hopped in the back of the truck and went with him. The township in Storms River can barely count as a township. There is still poverty, and the living conditions are not as good as the nice villas and cottages in the town, but most the roads are well-paved, and according to Sev, the crime rate is almost nonexistent, which is believable. Apart from the quite drunk creeper who almost immediately approached me, proclaimed that he liked me, came on to me (I assume; I couldn't tell, it was slurred and half in Afrikaans), and tried to grab my arm, I didn't feel threatened at all. Also, those guys really know how to shoot pool.

Sadly enough, I'm completely sober in this pic

We got back, and the group headed to bed. I had stayed behind with some of the other guests and was chatting with Yolande, Camilla the Danish girl (Hey Nick, she goes to university in Aarhus!), and the female half of a honeymooning couple when Sev impishly locked the doors of the bar to keep all of us inside. I protested, siting my lack of cash and my date with the bungee cord in the morning and a desire to not be hung over while hanging upside down, but Yolande insisted. She gave me some sketchy looking white powder which turned out to be Grand-pa, a South African staple of crushed aspirin and caffeine which will apparently get rid of any hangover if taken before bed, and then paid for two glasses of wine and three Springbok shots.

Yeah. I woke up still a little drunk in the morning. I was a little nervous about jumping 216 meters with a headache, but thank goodness for South African Time, which runs slower, for I had a couple hours to recuperate. By the time Deike, Chloe, Bec, and I got the bridge, I was nervous about the drop but at 110% enthusiasm. We were joined by three German girls who looked terrified but seemed to appreciate the nervous energy and Yolande and her daughter, who were doing the jump for the second time after originally coming to watch and keep us company but then deciding that they couldn't be left out of the fun.

Bloukranz Bridge, World's Highest Bungee Bridge

Guys, it was So. Awesome. Check out the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8usYKAuOiYs. I look like a pro. Except strung out on coke. I was so nervous, but I knew the drill already because four of our group had already done the jump during spring vac. They had a DJ playing pumping music, a cool bunch of guys working the ropes who seemed confident, and a setup that didn't let you look over the edge until you got to your turn to jump. The worst part was the 218 meter catwalk alongside the bridge to get to the platform in the middle with wire grating that gave a little underfoot. I danced around the entire time; Deike and I are probably were in every person's video, rocking out and booty shaking in the background. I was the first of our group to go and determined to set a good example. I was surprised that when I got to the edge and looked down, I thought to myself "Oh, that's pretty," not "Holy Shit." It didn't even look real, more like a picture from National Geographic. I had no concept of how far down it was, even though I knew it was the world's highest bungee bridge. It was the initial split second when my toes left the concrete and I felt myself naturally tip head first that my heart went to my mouth and I had to hold my breath to keep myself from panicking. After the first bounce, which my eyes were shut tight for, I opened my eyes, felt the rush of adrenaline from escaping death and gave my best WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-Hoo! When I heard the amazing echo, I had to do it again and again. I arched my back to look around at the the distant ocean and the surrounding mountains and marvelled at the river of coffee below. There might be taller bungees from structures, but the man, I don't think they could possibly be more beautiful. I came back up exhilarated and enthusiastically reassured and cheered on the other jumpers. Aaaaaaand destroyed my newly-recovered voice. It's just gone now.

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We got back midday, and I joined a few of the group as well as two Dutch girls to zip line. It was great fun, and I was still hopped up from the bungee, but the experience was a little short-lived, with only 8 cables across a canyon formed by the river. Still, the views over the waterfalls were great, the staff lively and friendly, and the company good.

After a lovely dinner prepared by Gemma (she was head chef of the three dinners we cooked and did a marvelous job. I had missed good home-cooking), the group hung out at the bar. Ashley insisted that she wanted to go the tavern after hearing about our adventure the night before which she had missed due to a delayed bus. After the rest went to bed, Sev and Gerhard took Simon, Deike, Ashley and I to the tavern. Sev paid for all our alcohol (including the worst tequila of my life; I retched a little), Gerhard and the locals taught Simon what it looked like to get trounced at pool, and Sev's friends taught Deike, Ashley, and I how to dance to African music properly. Good times to be had by all. We walked back under a cloudless night sky with a ripe full moon. I rediscovered how it feels to run while drunk. Amazing.

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The next day was river tubing. Sev and another river guide (Jacques was his name, maybe?) took Wout, Ashley, Bec, Deike, Celine, and I as well as the Dutch girls and a travelling Spaniard from the hostel down Storm River's tiny rapids in individual tubes. The day was overcast, and it rained quite a bit, but we were wet anyway, the forest and the river were stunning, so we agreed that that had been the best way to spend a rainy day. My short stubby little arms struggled a little to keep up, but I muddled through. The wetsuits kept us warm enough on the river, but once we were out it was quite cold. Dijembe's wonderful hot monsoon-style shower felt really good afterward, as well as the provided hot chicken stew for lunch, which I ate like a starving madwoman. The rain wasn't letting up, so the group, along with an Italian-Brazilian diving instructor/lawyer living in Australia that we adopted, stayed in and watched movies in front of the fire all night.

The next day, we were due to leave on a bus at 16h00 but the bus company called us in the morning and told us it was delayed until 4AM the next morning. We weren't too pleased to have to stay awake all night, but Dijembe said it was no problem for us to just hang out until then. I don't know about the others, but I was secretly a little happy for an excuse to stay. Although the day was rainy again, we decided to make a group trip to the national park for a light walk around to check out the suspension bridges and the coast, which I hadn't seen there. Ten of us piled into William's chariot plus the Brazilian and a ridiculously tall Swiss man that we also adopted. It was a cramped trip, but we laughed and joked the entire way. The national park is gorgeous. We were at the mouth of the river, where all the tannin stains the ocean brown and makes kinda grody looking foam.

All these are Chloe's

There were some gorgeous views, and I did a little off-road exploring climbing around cliffs and up a waterfall. We took our sweet time, meandering about on and off the path, but when I got back I was devastated to discover that my trusty knife had unclipped from my waistband. 1 km of trail and my knife was floating about in the middle of it somewhere. I kept my head and sprinted back to the end of the trail, where I knew I had slipped a little while climbing around. Out of sheer luck, it was right where I thought it was, in the middle of the bushes off the trail next to the waterfall. If I hadn't had gone to find it, it probably would have been lost forever. As many people know, that knife is completely irreplaceable to me, and it definitely would have ruined my trip for me if it had been lost. Luck has been on my side though, and I got a rush of joy and energy as I sprinted along the slippery composite board path. I didn't even twist my ankle! We got back to Dijembe, made dinner, and settled down to watch a few movies. Celine, our Frenchwoman, had never seen Chocolat before, which we thought was a travesty and sought to remedy.

We got dropped off at the gas station that the bus comes to at about 3:30 AM. At half past 4, we figured the bus was just late as usual. The local police were friendly and talked to us, and we were with a local guy who was quite chatty. I think he was there to make sure we got on the bus safe. Yeah. Too bad the bus never came. We kept calling the bus company, and at about 7:30 someone finally answered and told us that the bus had just completely bypassed our stop. Bastards. We had dozed outside the gas station, on the concrete, in the cold for a couple hours by then. We were pissed as hell, but the good trip and the fact that the gas station wasn't so bad and we felt safe kept us from going into a blood frenzy. The local found us a transport guy who took us to Grahamstown for 200 Rand (a steal! esp. since the van was nicer than the bus we would've taken), and we all stumbled back to our dorms for a shower and some much needed rest.

All in all, the best vacation of my life. I don't think I've ever experienced that much perfect happiness in such a long time. I have been truly blessed. Now, I'm staying in bed, resting my voice, and trying to forget that I have three exams next week that count for the majority of my grade. Wish me luck! I've been having so much of it, it seems impossible that I could have any more. Hope I'm wrong :P

(Mis)Adventures Behind

Our Route

So the merry band of Intl Studs went on a little jaunt along the Garden Route this week for our Vac (short for vacation; it's essentially Spring Break here). The Garden Route is essentially the southern coast of South Africa. We rented cars in Grahamstown then drove to Cape Town, making three stops over four nights along the way. Then, we bussed overnight back to Grahamstown today, and I'm now writing this entry in the computer lab, killing time until I can access my Res room at 14h00 after arriving here at the heinous hour of 7h30 (curses, Admin).

We started at surf town Jeffery’s Bay, complete with Billabong factory outlet and Ripcurl store. We had beach-y good fun there, built a sandcastle (which we destroyed with relish), collected seashells, and frolicked about in the warm waves of the Indian Ocean. We stayed at the hostel Island Vibe Backpackers, which came with access to the beach and a middle-aged man with dreadlocks who made jewelry.

Fun Fact: there’s always a crazy-haired middle-aged man making jewelry who is kinda creepy but is essentially harmless. No hostel is complete without one. More on that later.

Despite Gemma having to go tell the employees to turn down their pumping music in the hostel bar next door at 2AM (I was sound asleep. Asian sleeping skills), it was a fairly good night with plenty of fresh air and a starlit walk on the beach. In the morning, we woke up to discover that Wout had left the lights on in one of the cars, and the battery had completely been shot. We pushed the car up a hill then let it roll down in an attempt to try to jumpstart it. Thank goodness it was the tiniest car ever (and therefore probably weighed less than we did) because we tried this THREE TIMES to no avail. Then, we sheepishly asked one of the hostel workers if he had a cable. There was none to be borrowed, but he had an ingenious method:

Fun Fact: Did you know that if you don’t have jumper cables, you can detach the other car’s battery, hold it against the battery of the dead car, and that will have the same effect? You might be concerned for the guy nonchalantly holding the battery, but it will work.

Success! We were off again, this time on to Mossel Bay, with a few stops en route. First, a stop at the world’s tallest bridge, Bloukrans, and subsequently world’s tallest bungee jump. Before everyone gets too excited/concerned, I didn’t jump. I was 85% sure that if I had I would’ve vomited the entire way down, then up, then down again… At least in skydiving you only go one way; I’d totally do that. Nonetheless, four brave members of the group literally took the plunge to no incident. We were all very proud, and those of us safely on land cheered raucously. Next stop was the Knysna (pronounced “nice”-nah) heads, which are these cliffs which mark the narrow entrance to a huge lagoon which the city is built next to/on top of. It was a little bit stormy, but that added to the tremendous beauty of the water which crashed against the rocks in the loudest, most beautiful fashion. We finally made it to Mossel Bay after dark.

Our hostel at Mossel Bay, Santos Express, in which we stayed two nights in, was a renovated retired train which was, of course, super-duper cool. The dorm section was closed for repairs, so we paired off in sleeping compartments. We were uneven in girls vs boys, so I ended up with Dutchman Wout, but apart from a small incident in which I woke up in the morning to the image of bare ass, it wasn’t really a problem. We met some lovely (slightly drunk) Swiss (German-speaking) who invited us for a glass of wine. A couple of them were on their last leg of a world-wide trip during their gap year before master’s studies in engineering. One of them spoke a little bit of Chinese and had visited China, specifically Shanghai, a couple of times; we had a good chat about Chinese cultures in relation to world view. After finding out about my intention to travel to Germany, a couple insisted that I make a day-trip to Zurich. I’m highly considering it.

Fun Fact: Bern, Switzerland’s capital, is generally considered to be more chilled-out and a better place to hang out whereas Zurich has a high-speed business-oriented vibe, but Zurich people often make fun of the slow pace of the Bern-ites speech.

Based in Mossel Bay, we took a day trip to Oudtshoorn further inland, and let me tell you, the drive was breathtaking. It was through flower meadows and stark mountain peaks which the Dutch and French claim looked nothing like the Alps while the German claims looked exactly like them. Jury is still out. It was little nerve-racking hearing our tiny engine struggle up the steeper slopes, but we made it to the Cango Caves where we shared a tour with some loud, outspoken, overweight tourists from some unknown foreign land who stole all the oxygen with their labored breathing, making the somewhat cramped quarters of the cave even stuffier. What was really cool was the tour guide’s ability to control the lights in order to strategically show us bits of stalactite formations, but I had to hold Gemma’s hand a couple times when he switched off the lights entirely to show how dark it was inside.  We then went to an ostrich farm, where we got to feed the birds and even ride them!  I was one of the few who volunteered for the latter activity and let me tell you, it was SO MUCH FUN. DO IT. Wout was definitely one of the happiest men on the planet the entire time. Hilarious.

Fun Facts: Ostriches’ brains weigh less than their eyes, which have three eyelids: one on top, one on bottom, and one whitish membrane which they have evolved to protect themselves from desert sands. They can run up to 60 km/hr for up to 3 km. They have two toes per foot, the front one containing a huge talon that they use to crack open their egg from within as chicks and also has the ability to split open a person’s chest when fully grown. Ostrich pairs mate for life. When the female dies, the male will not seek another mate, but if the male dies, the female will. Males are the ones with black and white feathers, whereas females are usually grey all over. Ostrich leather is one of the strongest in the world and makes up 70% of the profits from ostrich farming. If we pull off next to an ostrich farm’s flock on the side of the road and Wout tries to feed them flowers, they will bite Wout’s arm to the amusement of all.

We left Mossel Bay and headed to Hermanus (her-MON-us) for a whale watching trip. We got to see some Southern Right whales breaching, log-tailing, “playing” (mating), etc, and it was quite majestic apart from having to fight sea-sickness as the boat made tight turns to follow the whales. I was really proud of myself for not chundering my guts out, but poor Simon wasn’t so lucky. That night, we had a braai at our lovely homey hostel, Zoete Inval Traveler’s Lodge, and we met a very nice contractor who showed me the proper way to braai which involves an ingenious but simple flip-able grilling rack, heating up soft charcoal to just the right temp, and knowing when to flip the rack to get even coverage. He was quite impressed by my grilling skills, and I feel like I really earned his respect when I nonchalantly poured a little of my Black Label beer over the meat. Thanks, Dad, for the grilling lessons. We hopped in the Jacuzzi for a little while then, against our better judgment, accompanied the guy, who had gotten slightly creepier with a couple more beers, and a couple of his workers to a local bar which turned out to be a pathetic excuse at an semi-attempt at a gay bar, complete with one gorgeous drag queen (but only one), drunk, overweight, creepy, middle-aged men, and two overweight men judging a “Hermanus Idols” karaoke contest that was mostly odd characters singing hardcore 80s Afrikaans songs and one guy in pink Uggs crying while singing Whitney Houston. It was an odd night. We slept in the most comfortable beds we’ve had in South Africa back at the hostel, though, and in the morning, we had the most delicious (included in the price!) breakfast with homemade organic apricot and fig jam and lovely French-press coffee. The proprietors were really sweet and focused on sustainable gardening and recycling. The free towels, out-of-the-blue complimentary car wash, and local cat provided just the homey air that we needed after a couple days on the road.

The next day, we headed to Stony Point for a nature reserve for African penguins. We got hopelessly lost a couple of times, but with some local help finally made it there, where we delighted in the antics of the little waddling birds and tried to ignore the smell. Penguins are ridiculously adorable, and anyone who disagrees is dumb. Period.   

Fun Fact: African Penguins are also called "Jackass" Penguins because of the braying noise they make.

We drove our way north along the gorgeous Atlantic coast to Cape Town and continued to get lost, unfortunately preventing us from going to see the Cape of Good Hope. We got to our hostel, Penthouse on Long [St], in the middle of the city a little road-weary. Kudos to our drivers, Wout and Simon, for getting us there. The atmosphere at the hostel was very chill, and there were mostly young people there for various reasons, apart from the middle-aged “large, fairy man” (in the front desk guy’s words) who made jewelry (told you, always one of them) which I had the fortune of sharing a bunk with. Goodie. There was little bit of tension as a couple of the workers weren’t very friendly and there were intra-worker conflicts, but the space is definitely cool, esp. the rooftop bar/hangout area. That night, we scoped out Long Street, the hub of the city night life, which seems to start only after midnight.

The next day, we took a whole day wine tour to Stellenbosch with a driver who started us off with “Let’s go get you drunk! The hangover starts now.” I proceeded to get ridiculously tipsy and forget my bag at the restaurant at one of the wineries, Beyers Kloof. When we called back, they claimed they never found it even though we had left at closing time and no one else was there, so that meant that one of the employees found and took it. They refused to do anything about it, and that made me super despondent and pissed, so PLEASE DON’T EVER GO THERE. I AM ANGRY WITH THEM, AND THEY ARE JERKS. BAHUMBUG. I got to experience what a South African police station is like since I had to go there to file a report in order to possibly paid back with insurance. I am now camera and wallet-less, so no pictures from the trip, guys, sorry :(. I’m stealing a couple photos from my friends, and that will have to do.  After a day of sulking around the hostel waiting for possible news about my bag that never came, I recovered enough to go out with the gang plus one cute Australian guy who we met earlier at the hostel. I felt significantly better after some bar hopping and drink sipping. I stayed out til 4:30 AM because it was our last night, and then woke up at 7:30 to pack and get ready for our Robben Island tour. Despite having to fight to stay awake, it was really great to see the place where Mandela spent 18 years of his life in prison, sleeping on a concrete floor, only to emerge to become the president of SA. I was still worried about my missing wallet and low on cash, so while the others scoped out the market, I went back to the hostel, paranoid, to check out my bank account and try to troubleshoot. I still have no way to access money, but my friends are great and generous and lending me money until my replacement card gets here. I’m not letting it get me down. Although Cape Town now has some negative memories for me, I still had some great times, experienced a few new things, and benefitted from getting outside my comfort zone. I’m excited for Cape Town attempt #2 with my sister after exams :D.

A couple of general notes:

-The entire drive was gorgeous. Lush forests, pristine ocean, and soaring mountains that were impressive even in the distance. We saw wild elephants, ostrich, “deer-like thingies” (Bec), etc. along with all sorts of vibrant, colorful flowers and plants. Although the cars were a bit of a hassle at times, it was great to get to see all of it.

-The further West you go, the more Afrikaans is spoken/seen. By the time we got to Cape Town, most of the signs were in Afrikaans, and it got really handy have two Nederlanders with us.

-It’s really difficult to plan around ten people. It was great having all of us there, but we had difficulty getting a consensus, and we didn’t meet as many new people as I had hoped to. As the cute Australian put it, by himself, he got to meet 12 cool new people at once whereas we, collectively, only met one. Traveling in a big group is chill, but I think I’ll prefer on my own or only with a few other people. I guess that’ll be tested when I attempt to traverse Europe all by my lonesome self. Eep.