Afrikaans festival in Oudtshoorn
This week Bethany and I (another COST student from OU) drove with Karin, a teacher at my school, to Oudtshoorn (pronounced “oats – horn”), which is the ostrich capital of the world and a major Afrikaans city. It’s set slightly inland, about an hour’s drive from the coast, and nestled in among the mountains. It’s also very hot and dry there. This week we had school holidays (the first term ended on Friday), and the KKNK (or Klein Karoo National Arts Festival) was happening this week. It’s an Afrikaans festival: art, crafts, drama, and live music.
By the time I had confirmed that we were going, it was very hard to find a place to stay. We ended up booking at Paradise Backpackers, in a dorm with 8 other people. To be honest, I’ve never stayed in a backpackers hostel dorm before, and I was a little nervous. Turns out that it was the coolest place I’ve ever stayed: although there were 10 of us sleeping in this room, everyone was pretty clean and very quiet at night and early morning. We also met some really nice people, including a Canadian girl teaching in Cape Town for a few months who gave us some advice about CT, and a Thai guy who is living in London right now and bought his ticket to South Africa 2 weeks ago. I am just amazed at the number of people backpacking along the coast: it seems like the most fun thing to do.
Anyway, when Bethany and I got there, we immediately walked down to the festival. It reminded me of a huge county fair, except with live music everywhere and people sitting at their craft stalls telling everyone, “Special price for you! I give you nice price.” You gotta love South Africa: you hear this everywhere at flea markets and craft stalls.
Most amazing food stall we found: Homemade Belguim ice cream. Now, that doesn’t sound too exciting until I tell you that he also makes Rum and Amarula (a delicious, milky liquor) ice cream. No, rum flavored ice cream, but RUM ice cream. He actually makes alcoholic ice cream! We were so excited we took pictures and asked him all kinds of questions. First of all, it’s just kind of for the flavoring, so you’d probably get fat (or sick) before the alcohol even affects you. Also, if a kid orders some, he warns them that it’s real alcohol, and then gives it to them if they still want it. Alcohol laws are so loose here. Speaking of that, there was a vending machine in our hostel that sold beer. (Again, we took pictures).
We both found some cool crafts and cheap clothes (including t-shirts with phrases written in Afrikaans) at the stalls throughout the week. I also started to get into the Afrikaans music. Although I can’t understand most of it, it has an interesting beat, kind of like techno crossed with country.
Our second day there, Bethany and I decided it would be great idea to take advantage of the hostel’s adventure center and bicycle down from the Swartsburg pass (about 50 kilometers). I’m pretty sure the bus driver thought we were these naïve American girls who think they can do anything (which we were that day) because he kept telling us to stay on the left side of the road, and be careful, and he wanted us to be in one piece, and to know which side was the front brake and which was the back. So we confidently set off down the gorgeous mountain road. The views were incredible: at some points, seeing the winding road on the next mountain in front of us, I felt like I was in a Gatorade or car commercial. I was definitely feeling pretty athletic and cool. Once we scared some baboons sitting up on the rocks near the road (yes, baboons run around like crazy here: you sometimes see them on the roads out of town). However, it was all downhill from the top of the pass to the Cango Caves, so by the time we reached them, our palms were bruised from squeezing the brakes like mad. (Ok, we didn’t actually cycle the whole way to the caves: since part of it is uphill, we cycled 10 km down from the top, where our fabulous bus driver picked us up and drove us the other 13 km to the caves). The Cango Caves were a pretty basic tourist attraction, but the caverns were huge, and we chose the adventure tour: which involved squeezing up a 75 degree angle that was only a few feet wide (kinda like SpiderMan would do) called the Devil’s Chimney, and then, after crawling through a few more tunnels, squeezing out of an opening 23 centimeters high, called the Post Box, on our stomachs, head first (kinda like a worm). It was damp, and kinda warm from all the climbing and squeezing, but totally worth it.
We had a quick lunch (my new favorite appetizer is deep fried camembert cheese: you get it on a platter with crackers, other cheeses, and fruit: yum!) and began the last 29 km back to town. From the hostel at 8:30 in the morning, 40 km doesn’t sound too bad. But when you’re out in the heat, with a pack on your back and a road that doesn’t seem to slant down, it’s a long ride. Other than that, the views were once again gorgeous: nice countryside with the mountains behind. We passed several small farm houses (in Afrikaans, they were kraals) where kids stood along the side of the road, holding out their hands. As we whizzed by, we reached over and gave them a high 5. The kids loved it.
Finally, our shoulders, hands, and legs aching, we pulled into the ostrich farm outside town and practically fell off our bikes. One of the tour guides (we later learned his name was Mark) greeted us and showed us where to buy our tickets. The tour was okay, but again kind of touristy. We stood on ostrich eggs, sat on an ostrich, and even got to ride one (it’s a lot scarier than riding a horse!). We slowly cycled the 3 kms back to the hostel, making it back 8 hours after we had departed that morning.
Now, in spite of our exhaustion, after spending a few hours lying by the pool, our Thai friend Jak convinced us to head uptown to the festival. We grabbed some dinner and walked around. As in every other South African town, there were street kids begging for money, but the kids were slightly more creative: using pop cans as guitars, they sat in groups of 3 or 4 and sang African songs. I feel bad saying no when they come up to me with their hands out, begging for change in their soft voices, but you’re really not supposed to give them money. The government wants them off the street and provides housing in children’s homes and orphanages, and doesn’t want people to encourage them. Also, if I gave money to every street kid that I saw, I would be broke by now.
Anyway, we wandered into a beer tent where some music caught our attention. The guy playing guitar and singing on stage sang some Elvis songs in Afrikaans. Then, a mysterious man in black took the stage. He was a cheap Zorro imitator, but he sang some lively songs. At one point, Mark from the ostrich farm randomly appeared. We invited him to sit at our table, and we began chatting. He helped translate some of the Afrikaans for us: for example, one of the songs sings about his “red-dressed bokie” that he wants to “soekie” with. Now, in Afrikaans, bokie means buck, as in a deer. It’s a popular pet name I suppose, and it rhymes with “soekie” (I’m just guessing at the spelling) which is the Afrikaans word for either a lively dance or a sock. In this case, it was the dance. Mark demonstrated the dance with one of his female friends, and then took me out on the “dance floor” (the spot of dirt in front of the stage where there were no tables or chairs). It was the funnest dance ever: kind of like swing, but a little easier to follow. We were the only 2 people on the floor: I was a little nervous since I had no idea what I was doing, but he was a good lead, so I really got into it, whirling around on the dirt floor. It was awesome.
That was pretty much it for Oudsthoorn: after 3 nights, we were slightly bored from the festival and ready to go home. However, it was nice vacation and the Afrikaans was very entertaining.
Oh, and one more thing that absolutely drives me crazy about South Africa: when they say something is "American style" and it's not. Like, American style footlong hotdogs. Theyre not like ANY footlong hotdogs I've ever eaten in the States. And "American style iced coffee" which is not iced coffee at all but blended coffee and ice cream. Never in America when I order iced coffee is it blended with ice cream. It's silly but it does irritate me.
But, even though a lot of things bother me about living in South Africa, it's really starting to feel like home. I only have about 2 1/2 weeks here, and I really don't want to leave. I like my friends here and I like everything there is to do. I want to come home to visit my family for a while... and then come back to P.E. I've also thought about the trips I've taken- I feel like I've gotten out a lot, but then I realize I've only really been on the coast between P.E. and Cape Town. I haven't been in the interior of the country, in Kwazulu-Natal or the Free State (among many other provinces), up the "wild coast" or even as far as East London or Durban to the east. It just makes me feel like I need to come back here to visit and continue exploring. I'm going to miss everyone when I leave.
By the time I had confirmed that we were going, it was very hard to find a place to stay. We ended up booking at Paradise Backpackers, in a dorm with 8 other people. To be honest, I’ve never stayed in a backpackers hostel dorm before, and I was a little nervous. Turns out that it was the coolest place I’ve ever stayed: although there were 10 of us sleeping in this room, everyone was pretty clean and very quiet at night and early morning. We also met some really nice people, including a Canadian girl teaching in Cape Town for a few months who gave us some advice about CT, and a Thai guy who is living in London right now and bought his ticket to South Africa 2 weeks ago. I am just amazed at the number of people backpacking along the coast: it seems like the most fun thing to do.
Anyway, when Bethany and I got there, we immediately walked down to the festival. It reminded me of a huge county fair, except with live music everywhere and people sitting at their craft stalls telling everyone, “Special price for you! I give you nice price.” You gotta love South Africa: you hear this everywhere at flea markets and craft stalls.
Most amazing food stall we found: Homemade Belguim ice cream. Now, that doesn’t sound too exciting until I tell you that he also makes Rum and Amarula (a delicious, milky liquor) ice cream. No, rum flavored ice cream, but RUM ice cream. He actually makes alcoholic ice cream! We were so excited we took pictures and asked him all kinds of questions. First of all, it’s just kind of for the flavoring, so you’d probably get fat (or sick) before the alcohol even affects you. Also, if a kid orders some, he warns them that it’s real alcohol, and then gives it to them if they still want it. Alcohol laws are so loose here. Speaking of that, there was a vending machine in our hostel that sold beer. (Again, we took pictures).
We both found some cool crafts and cheap clothes (including t-shirts with phrases written in Afrikaans) at the stalls throughout the week. I also started to get into the Afrikaans music. Although I can’t understand most of it, it has an interesting beat, kind of like techno crossed with country.
Our second day there, Bethany and I decided it would be great idea to take advantage of the hostel’s adventure center and bicycle down from the Swartsburg pass (about 50 kilometers). I’m pretty sure the bus driver thought we were these naïve American girls who think they can do anything (which we were that day) because he kept telling us to stay on the left side of the road, and be careful, and he wanted us to be in one piece, and to know which side was the front brake and which was the back. So we confidently set off down the gorgeous mountain road. The views were incredible: at some points, seeing the winding road on the next mountain in front of us, I felt like I was in a Gatorade or car commercial. I was definitely feeling pretty athletic and cool. Once we scared some baboons sitting up on the rocks near the road (yes, baboons run around like crazy here: you sometimes see them on the roads out of town). However, it was all downhill from the top of the pass to the Cango Caves, so by the time we reached them, our palms were bruised from squeezing the brakes like mad. (Ok, we didn’t actually cycle the whole way to the caves: since part of it is uphill, we cycled 10 km down from the top, where our fabulous bus driver picked us up and drove us the other 13 km to the caves). The Cango Caves were a pretty basic tourist attraction, but the caverns were huge, and we chose the adventure tour: which involved squeezing up a 75 degree angle that was only a few feet wide (kinda like SpiderMan would do) called the Devil’s Chimney, and then, after crawling through a few more tunnels, squeezing out of an opening 23 centimeters high, called the Post Box, on our stomachs, head first (kinda like a worm). It was damp, and kinda warm from all the climbing and squeezing, but totally worth it.
We had a quick lunch (my new favorite appetizer is deep fried camembert cheese: you get it on a platter with crackers, other cheeses, and fruit: yum!) and began the last 29 km back to town. From the hostel at 8:30 in the morning, 40 km doesn’t sound too bad. But when you’re out in the heat, with a pack on your back and a road that doesn’t seem to slant down, it’s a long ride. Other than that, the views were once again gorgeous: nice countryside with the mountains behind. We passed several small farm houses (in Afrikaans, they were kraals) where kids stood along the side of the road, holding out their hands. As we whizzed by, we reached over and gave them a high 5. The kids loved it.
Finally, our shoulders, hands, and legs aching, we pulled into the ostrich farm outside town and practically fell off our bikes. One of the tour guides (we later learned his name was Mark) greeted us and showed us where to buy our tickets. The tour was okay, but again kind of touristy. We stood on ostrich eggs, sat on an ostrich, and even got to ride one (it’s a lot scarier than riding a horse!). We slowly cycled the 3 kms back to the hostel, making it back 8 hours after we had departed that morning.
Now, in spite of our exhaustion, after spending a few hours lying by the pool, our Thai friend Jak convinced us to head uptown to the festival. We grabbed some dinner and walked around. As in every other South African town, there were street kids begging for money, but the kids were slightly more creative: using pop cans as guitars, they sat in groups of 3 or 4 and sang African songs. I feel bad saying no when they come up to me with their hands out, begging for change in their soft voices, but you’re really not supposed to give them money. The government wants them off the street and provides housing in children’s homes and orphanages, and doesn’t want people to encourage them. Also, if I gave money to every street kid that I saw, I would be broke by now.
Anyway, we wandered into a beer tent where some music caught our attention. The guy playing guitar and singing on stage sang some Elvis songs in Afrikaans. Then, a mysterious man in black took the stage. He was a cheap Zorro imitator, but he sang some lively songs. At one point, Mark from the ostrich farm randomly appeared. We invited him to sit at our table, and we began chatting. He helped translate some of the Afrikaans for us: for example, one of the songs sings about his “red-dressed bokie” that he wants to “soekie” with. Now, in Afrikaans, bokie means buck, as in a deer. It’s a popular pet name I suppose, and it rhymes with “soekie” (I’m just guessing at the spelling) which is the Afrikaans word for either a lively dance or a sock. In this case, it was the dance. Mark demonstrated the dance with one of his female friends, and then took me out on the “dance floor” (the spot of dirt in front of the stage where there were no tables or chairs). It was the funnest dance ever: kind of like swing, but a little easier to follow. We were the only 2 people on the floor: I was a little nervous since I had no idea what I was doing, but he was a good lead, so I really got into it, whirling around on the dirt floor. It was awesome.
That was pretty much it for Oudsthoorn: after 3 nights, we were slightly bored from the festival and ready to go home. However, it was nice vacation and the Afrikaans was very entertaining.
Oh, and one more thing that absolutely drives me crazy about South Africa: when they say something is "American style" and it's not. Like, American style footlong hotdogs. Theyre not like ANY footlong hotdogs I've ever eaten in the States. And "American style iced coffee" which is not iced coffee at all but blended coffee and ice cream. Never in America when I order iced coffee is it blended with ice cream. It's silly but it does irritate me.
But, even though a lot of things bother me about living in South Africa, it's really starting to feel like home. I only have about 2 1/2 weeks here, and I really don't want to leave. I like my friends here and I like everything there is to do. I want to come home to visit my family for a while... and then come back to P.E. I've also thought about the trips I've taken- I feel like I've gotten out a lot, but then I realize I've only really been on the coast between P.E. and Cape Town. I haven't been in the interior of the country, in Kwazulu-Natal or the Free State (among many other provinces), up the "wild coast" or even as far as East London or Durban to the east. It just makes me feel like I need to come back here to visit and continue exploring. I'm going to miss everyone when I leave.
posted by Katie | 1:27 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home