Back at home

So, yes, I finally did make it back to Ohio, but not after a 3 day stop in St. Louis for the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics annual conference. (I won an award to attend, plus our OU branch was recieving a certificate from the NCTM, so it was nice to recieve that). Cathy Seeley, NCTM President and one of my professinal idols, was there to present the certificates, and since she remembered our little organization at OU, she gave me a hug. (She has a really cool website from when she taught math in Africa: www.csinburkinafaso.com, check it out.)

I met up with two of the other girls who won the same award as I did, and I feel bad for these girls for having to put up with me during my first few days back in the States. ("oooh real ketchup!" "wow, the waiter will actually split the bill for us?" "look at how expensive the wine list is!" "normal traffic lights!")

It was the little things that shocked and pleased me the most. However, America and Americans just have a "feeling" about them. As soon as I landed in the Washington-Dulles airport, I knew I was in America. How could I tell? It's nothing that I can explain, but everything just seemed AMERICAN. I looked around me, and I could tell that the people were American (and I could pick out the foreigners). Also, while waiting in the immigration line, an older couple ahead of me saw my OU t-shirt and started chatting because they live in Dayton and their daughter went to OU. Such a nice surprise after months of having to describe Ohio as being "near the great lakes."

Even now, a week later, I find myself walking down the street or driving down the road, and I just smile because it's so good to be home. The air feels like home, the sounds at night sound like home.

The only thing is... and I'm sure those of you who have lived abroad will understand, and I'm not sure if anyone else will... it's hard to adjust. I miss South Africa and its people, and the life that I built there.

My last day in South Africa

Some of you may remember when I first applied to the COST program, and how stressed I was about my placement. My mind was going back and forth about whether I should go to South Africa, Mexico, or stay in Ohio. I finally decided (partly because of my COST advisor’s encouragement-she loves South Africa) to come here. I was still uncertain up until the moment that my plane left, and I was so scared and sad about leaving my friends and family behind. I think I cried almost every night the week before I left. Since I’ve only felt a little homesick here, I joke about how I got it all out before I left- and I really did.

But now, I’ve begun to look back on my trip and the whole experience, thinking about my first day here, driving through the town where everything was bright and sunny and a lot like home, and yet a little bit off. It was nothing major, there were still trees and grass growing, but it’s not the same type of trees and grass that grow in the US. There were still cars and traffic lights, but not the exact same type of cars or traffic lights. Now, driving down those same streets, everything looks completely normal and feels like home. I’ve had an incredible teaching experience and a wonderful host family, and I’ve made some great friends who I’m sure I’ll have for life. There is no other place on earth that I could have had such a great experience. It was hard, and I struggled to acclimate to the school and assert what I needed, but even through that, I grew stronger.

I realize that by being here, my own perceptions about people and towards racism have been challenged. I came here with my own ideas of what South Africa would be like, not understanding the townships, and no idea about the complex interactions between groups of people. I see now that things cannot be summarized easily and it’s not always easy to define relationships. People in South Africa are still struggling to live together in peace: blacks are still struggling to get by, and whites are still struggling with the racism they’d lived with for years. However, the democracy is young, and although they still have a long way to go, the people of South Africa have come so far already in the past 12 years.

And finally, for those of you at Ohio University who are considering applying to the COST program, 5 reasons to student teach overseas:
1. The people you meet: You really get to know your students. The schools have many school functions and encourage you to get involved in sports and clubs. Also, the students want to get to know you: any chance they have, they’ll ask questions. You also get to know the teachers: all the teachers, from all different grade levels and content areas. You see all the teachers 3 times a day in the staff room and hear from the principal every morning at the meeting. There really is a community of teachers here.
2. You are able to challenge your beliefs and open your mind to a new way of thinking. Here, they don’t have the same laws and situations that have been drilled into our heads from our very first education class. There is no high stakes testing, there are no state standards, no inclusion, and they’ve never heard of “no child left behind.” However, they do have their own set of learning areas, and outcomes based education, and continuous assessment portfolios, and learning outcomes. You’ll come out with a much more well-rounded view of what education is and what works.
3. Here, people give you much more respect as a teacher (the students are incredibly polite and call you “ma’am” or “sir” all the time). You also have so much more independence, both inside the classroom and out. In the school, I could choose which classes and teachers I wanted to observe, and the teachers were more than happy to let me teach. At home, I had a little help from my host family, but they also gave me a lot of freedom to explore and learn things for myself. For me, about to graduate from the safe haven of university and learn to live on my own in the “real world,” it was a nice trial step to learn how to live in another country on my own.
4. Learn firsthand about another country, its history, its people, and their attitudes. You can read all you want about another country and its history, but you don’t realize the impact until you travel there and interact with the people.
5. You get to be “The American,” which makes you the most popular person everywhere you go because everyone has questions for you. You can voice your own opinions and people assume you’re representing all Americans (so watch what you say and do!). It’s very powerful to be THE authority on all things American.

I highly encourage anyone to student teach overseas, and I'd be happy to talk to you more about it when I get back- all you have to do is ask! I also enourage anyone to visit South Africa- it's an amazing country, so diverse in its people, the food, the landscape, and the things to do. It's a good country to backpack through, with a backpacker's bus going all along the coast and hostels in every town. However, if you choose to stay in the nice hotels and cities instead, don't just stay to the ritzy areas of town and the tourist traps: make sure you at least get out into the townships for a day or two, visit the inner part of the country, and talk to as many locals as you can!

To all my friends here in South Africa: I'll miss you all, and you must come visit Ohio! To the Americans here: have fun travelling after I leave, and make sure you tell me all about your adventures! Hope to meet up in the States sometime.
To everyone at home: I'll be back in Ohio on Sunday, April 30, and back in Athens the same day for a meeting. Can't wait to talk to and see everyone!

I will update once more after I arrive back home to share some of the "reverse culture shock" things I notice in the U.S. Thanks, everyone, for reading this and allowing me to share some of my experiences with you!

Cape Town!

I spent Easter weekend in Cape Town with Bethany, new Sarah, and our favorite Greek South African, Demetrios. School holidays were Friday and Monday, and the four of us took Tuesday off as well.

Cape Town is the second largest city in South Africa, second only to Johannesburg. Compared to P.E., only the 5th largest city in the country, it’s fairly large, but nothing compared to a city in the U.S. The main navigational problem we had was figuring out the direction we were facing. First of all, the city is built around a huge, flat mountain, Table Mountain. Looking at the two together, it’s the most beautiful, majestic picture you can imagine. However, the mountain wouldn’t be nearly as majestic without the city lights at the base, and the city would be nothing without the mountain towering above it. Cape Town is also at the base of Cape Peninsula, on the Western Coast of Africa (which meant we were facing the Atlantic Ocean for the first time here!). The mountain was (eventually) helpful in finding our way around, but, after being in Port Elizabeth for a few months, it’s intuitive that the ocean is south. In Cape Town, however, the ocean is east. We were disoriented pretty much the whole time we were in Cape Town.

We stopped halfway, at a little town called Wilderness, when it got too dark to drive. The highways don’t have reflectors on them in some areas, and it can be dangerous to drive at night. We had directions to go down a dirt road, cross the railroad tracks, and then turn at the sign. It wasn’t too bad until we see that we don’t just cross the railroad tracks- we drive ON the railroad tracks over a hundred meter bridge. Not only that, there is a mind-boggling sign that, to our best interpretations, says that cars are allowed, but not if you have phones, keys, cameras, or luggage inside. Also, one person cannot cross, but several can. Hmm. We bravely (and safely) make our way across the bridge and to the hostel. However, as we pull down the hostel’s long driveway, we hear a train whistle in the distance, making us realize that trains really do cross that bridge. Quite scary.


Friday

We arrived in Cape Town early Friday afternoon and drove straight to the waterfront. It was a busy, bustling weekend, with lots of craft stalls set up in the craft market and musicians playing on the sidewalk. Growing up in such small towns like Elizabeth and Gallipolis where you never see musicians on the street, I love listening to it. The girls and I had booked tickets on the Robben Island tour. I have never (that I can remember) been on a boat larger than a canoe (or maybe the “Titanic” we used to keep in our pond) and so I really enjoyed the 30 minute ferry ride. Robben Island itself is very small and flat, and not very exciting to look at from the shore. The cape used to extend past Robben Island, and it was part of the African coast. A few million years ago, the fields connecting it to the mainland became submerged in the ocean, and only the tiny flat Robben Island survived. Although parts of the island are beautiful and covered in green grass and trees, we disembarked to concrete slabs of wall on all sides. The facilities on the island have been used for lepers and as an insane asylum, and twice as a prison (once hundreds of years ago, and once far more recently). This is where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for a good amount of his 20-some years as a political prisoner. (Brief history of Nelson Mandela: he grew up in Apartheid South Africa and was educated as he was a member of the royal family and was to become an advisor, however, he rebelled, became a lawyer and a freedom fighter, and was jailed several times. The Apartheid government seemed to just pass more and more ridiculous laws to squash the increasing rebellions, and would re-arrest someone mere seconds after releasing them: because they passed a law allowing them to detain someone without a reason for 90 days. Anyway, Mandela was finally sentenced to life imprisonment, and sent to the prison on Robben Island, with many other political prisoners and even more common prisoners- although they were kept separate. He was moved to another prison near Cape Town in the late 80’s, finally released in 1990, and elected President in 1994 in South Africa’s first democratic election. If you want to read the biography of this incredible man, read Long Walk to Freedom: I read it to prepare for my Robben Island tour, and although it’s long, it’s definitely worth it.) So back to Robben Island. We first took a bus tour of the island, to see the various buildings and the lime quarry where the prisoners labored. There is a small cave where the prisoners would relieve themselves during the day. The prisoners took advantage of the fact that the white warders refused to even come near the cave, and used it to teach other. In fact, Robben Island was nicknamed “the University,” because the political prisoners created classes that they taught to each other and the general prisoners: these courses included histories of the ANC, of different types of government, and so on. One of the buildings we stopped by was the house that Robert Sobukwe lived in. He had been arrested early in the struggle, and when he was about to be released, the government passed the 90-day detention law that I mentioned earlier. Thus, every 90 days, he was released and re-arrested. He lived in a small house by himself, because the government didn’t want him mixing with the other prisoners. After our tour of the island, the bus driver dropped us off at the cells. We were met by our guide: an ex-political prisoner on the island. He had been arrested on several charges, including leaving and re-entering the country illegally (he had been smuggled abroad to train for the ANC’s “army,” the MK) and possessing weapons. He was in Robben Island for 5 years before he was released in the late 1980’s. He guided us through the different hallways, showing us the courtyard where Mandela spent much of his time, and finally, Mandela’s cell: a tiny, about 9 by 6 foot cell. The feeling of being in this place where so much history (and recent history, at that) has taken place is almost overwhelming. We had a few minutes to walk through several cells where actual artifacts were kept with stories about them from the prisoners. For example, there was a comb that took 2 years of requests for a prisoner to finally receive, and safety pins from another prisoner who used them to hold the blankets around his shoulders. The mind boggling thing about the island is the wildlife. They have springbok roaming around, which, okay, isn’t too exciting, but they also have PENGUINS. I absolutely love African penguins. They’re small and adorable. And on Robben Island, the penguins just wander the prison grounds.


Saturday

Saturday morning, we drove down to the Constantia area to visit the 3 wine farms in the area. On my map, it looks like it’s right in the middle of Cape Town, but it was actually very rural (to have miles of vineyards, it would have to be). The first one we visited, Groot Constantia (meaning “big Constantia,” Dem got a kick out of our American accents trying to pronounce “groot”) was very nice: for R15 (about $2.50), we were able to “taste” 5 wines of our choice and even keep the wine glasses! The friendly employee filled our glasses about halfway, and invited us to have a seat on the huge leather couches spread throughout the room to enjoy our wine. We were the only people at the winery at that time, so we had the place to ourselves. The other two wineries were nice as well, and their tastings were free, but also much more crowded with our tourists. Dem had further enjoyment listening to us Americans trying to pronounce “Buitenverwachting” (it’s “bait- in- fer- vahk- ting”). Towards the end, when we were all feeling a little light-headed, we finally caught on that we should be taking a few sips and then dumping out the rest of the wine. I was enjoying myself so much, though, that I bought 3 bottles, not realizing that when I return to P.E., I only have a week to enjoy the wine before I fly out.

Saturday afternoon we had planned to climb Table Mountain, but we realized that it’s a fairly strenuous climb, and we were sure to get dehydrated, so we chose to nap instead. We got up in time to drive up to Signal Hill, near Table Mountain, overlooking the water, and watch the most amazing colors as the sun slowly sank into the water. As it was the Saturday before Easter Sunday, there was a church group singing and dancing at the top as well. We ventured back into the city to an upscale jazz restaurant called Marimba, where I enjoyed the most tender steak I’ve ever had as we listed to an African jazz band. What struck me about the restaurant when we walked in was how many black Africans were eating there. In most of Cape Town, we had eaten at restaurants and visited places where the majority of people were white. It was kind of shocking to finally see a black majority, and it was shocking again to realize that I was shocked. I shouldn’t be surprised to see a black majority in a country where the majority is black, and yet I was. Despite the government’s efforts to integrate, the country is still very divided. For example, you don’t see white laborers. You don’t see white maids. And the majority of professionals are white Africans. On the tourist roads like the garden route, you only pass a major township once (and that’s in 8 or more hours of driving!).


Sunday

Sunday (my birthday and Easter!) we got up early to drive down the Cape Peninsula to see the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point (you may remember this from the explorers unit you did in middle school history class). We stopped in the naval town of Simonstown to visit, what else?, the South African naval museum, where we climbed around in a submarine replica, before driving a few hundred meters to Boulders, where the African penguins hang out. They jumped from rock to rock, waddled down to the water, did a few dives, and came back to frolic on the rocks again. Again, let me say how much I adore African penguins.

Another animal that seems to be everywhere in South Africa is the baboon. I’m sure I’ve written about the signs along the roads telling you not to feed the baboons (it’s a 500 rand fine if you do). However, I’d never really seen more than one or two hiding in the bushes or scampering across the road until the road down the Cape Peninsula. At a scenic vista pull-off point along the highway, we saw a huge troop of baboons just hanging out on the guardrail. They were walking along, sitting there, and fighting over a baby baboon (one of the baboons grabbed the baby’s arms and tried to pull him away from his mother- don’t worry, the mother won). Bethany pulls out her camera to take a video of these amazing (and yet dangerous) animals. Now, although the signs along the road say to keep windows up when you’re around the baboons, it was a hot day and we didn’t think to put our windows up. As Bethany is leaning towards the window with her camera on, the baby-stealing baboon suddenly jumps down from the guardrail in a threatening move, straight towards the car. I’ll let the video speak for what happened next: all you hear is screaming and all you see is a window rapidly closing, as the camera jostles and turns off. Trust me, as scary as the moment was at the time, this video provided hours of entertainment during car rides for the rest of the weekend.

After being attacked by baboons, the rest of the drive down the cape was pretty non-eventful. After paying a hefty entrance fee to the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point, we drove down to what is billed as “the Southernmost tip of Africa.” The Cape of Good Hope is actually the first time I had ever heard of South Africa (although I didn’t know it was in South Africa at the time): in middle school, we had to remember where it was that the famous explorers Diaz and de Gama rounded the tip of Africa on the way to Asia. It’s also the meeting point of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, creating a very interesting and diverse marine life (the Indian Ocean is very warm, and the Atlantic is very very cold at this point). We hiked up a paved, tourist-friendly path and lots of stairs to the Cape Point lighthouse, where you can see out over the ocean from Cape Point. When I was in my 6th grade history class, I never would have even imagined that on my 22nd birthday, I would be standing at that very place. Sir Frances Drake once described the cape as “the most stately thing and the fairest cape we saw in the whole circumference of the earth,” which I think describes it pretty darn well.

We made it back to Cape Town in time for an evening picnic at the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens: one of the must-do’s for Cape Town. If you know me, you know that I love walking through gardens and parks, enjoying the diverse plant life and laying in the cool, lush, green grass. So you can probably tell that I loved the Kirstenbosch gardens. We barely even walked through a fraction of the park, and I’m sure I could spend days wandering the paths and sitting by the little ponds and streams and under the towering trees. We had a picnic of bread, cheese, mango, and wine, (as well as a surprise birthday cake for me!) as we sat on the grass with Table Mountain towering behind us. It couldn’t have gotten any better. We chose a spot next to a giant yellowwood tree with an interesting story: the legendary and beloved tree had been split in half and blown over in a violent wind storm last year. However, the faithful gardeners covered the exposed roots with soil and roped off the small area, giving it space to heal. Miraculously, the tree (the only type of tree in Africa able to do this) has begun sprouting new life from the toppled trunk, growing little green shoots up towards the sun. It is such a hopeful and inspirational thing to see.


Monday

We woke up early hoping to climb (or at least take the cable car to the top of) Table Mountain, but, alas, the clouds and strong winds made that impossible. Instead, we spent the morning at the 2 Oceans Aquarium and shopping at the waterfront, and the afternoon visiting the winefarms of the neighboring towns of Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch. There are at least 120 vineyards in Stellenbosch alone. Since we had such a large choice, we were quite selective about the places we visited for tastings. We started with a dual wine and cheese tasting, before stopping at a welcoming winery where we sat at deep wood tables next to brick walls, while our personal server told us about each of the wines we were tasting. I must have been feeling pretty brave, because on the way down the long driveway, when we noticed the bunches of grapes hanging off the vines mere feet from our car, we convinced Dem to stop the car just long enough for me to jump out and rip one of the bunches from the vine (the darn things hold on pretty tight) for us to munch on in the car. (They were pretty good grapes, too). We continued on the road to Franschhoek, where we got some delicious homemade chocolates at a Belgian chocolate factory before stopping at the winery that specializes in sparkling wines. We had a quick tasting and looked down at the rows and rows of bottles in their cellar, which are turned every day for a month until the yeast is gone. The yeast and the sugar, and the turning of the bottles, somehow combines to give the wonderful fizz that we tasted.

After this tasting, we were on a mad dash to Stellenbosch, the most famous wine region, so we could quickly visit one vineyard before they all closed at 5 PM. We found one where the woman was counting down her register but agreed to give us a quick tasting for free. We repaid her by purchasing a few more bottles.

Back in Cape Town, we dined at Mama Africa, a trendy restaurant with live music and genuine African food. For the first time, I was able to try mealie (made from corn), and samp and beans (traditional food eaten for almost every meal by Africans). I also had crocodile (not my favorite, but edible), springbok (yummy), kudu (kind of tough and game-y), and ostrich (kinda chewy but very healthy and not too bad).


Tuesday

Tuesday was our last morning in Cape Town before the long 8 to 9 hour drive back to Port Elizabeth along the Garden Route. We had heard that the weather was supposed to be windy and cloudy again, but we crossed our fingers and said a little prayer the night before, and, miraculously, woke up to a clear blue sky. We had about an hour wait to buy the tickets and get on the cable car, but we befriended a German couple in line in front of us, which helped to pass the time. We also learned that hiking up the mountain is not recommended right now, as it’s extremely dangerous due to loose rocks and timber from a recent fire. Good thing we didn’t try to hike up on Saturday. Finally, we made it into the cramped cable car for the (fairly quick) ride up the face of the mountain to the top. The views were breathtaking, but again, the paths along the top were paved and teeming with tourists. Since we had to hit the road, we didn’t stay too long.

The rest of the day was spent in the car, on the long (albeit beautiful) drive back along the N2 highway, also known as the Garden Route. We drove through mountains, along the ocean, and through the Tsitsikamma forests. We stopped for a seafood dinner in Jeffrey’s Bay (big surfing area!) at a charming restaurant that was built on the beach: literally, on the beach, with no floor other than the sand beneath our toes.

And suddenly, I’m back at home in P.E., with one short week until I have to leave behind the good friends I’ve made and the restaurants and coffee shops I’ve come to love.

Comments

I just want to say thanks to everyone who has left me comments here or e-mailed me while I've been overseas. Your thoughts and messages have been motivating and very appreciated.

One of the best parts about this trip has been being able to share my experiences with everyone back home. It's been great to hear from friends and family I haven't seen or talked to in years.

Thanks, everyone!

South Africa in general

A few random thoughts about South Africa….

They can turn anything into a job. The parking attendants in parking lots who tell you where to park and watch your cars for you, the attendants at petrol stations (you NEVER pump your own gas here), the waitresses in virtually every coffee shop or restaurant (it’s very very rare to get something to go), the maids that everyone has come clean their house, and even the people selling things like purses, rugby jerseys, and trash bags at the stoplights in town.

The one thing that I regret about the trip to Cape Town is that everything was so structured and “tourist-y.” It was very cool to meet people from all over the world on our tours and waiting in the queues, but my most treasured experiences in South Africa have been the most authentic ones: hiking down the Robberg Peninsula in Plett, visiting the township school with a teacher, and hanging out with friends at the braais.

The differences between a South African braai and an American barbeque: First, the obvious difference: you light a fire using wood with a pile of coals underneath, and after a while, you push the wood aside to use the hot coals to cook your food. Also, whereas a barbeque is usually a mid-afternoon event, braais don’t begin until about 7 or 8, and you may not cook your food until 10 0r 11 (I heard horror stories from Tess about not eating until 1 AM). In South Africa, the host will usually provide the side salads and chips, while the guests bring their own meat, while in America, the host provides the meat and guests bring the sides.

When driving, people pass all the time, whether or not the dotted line in the middle of the road says you can. Even scarier, when someone wants to pass (or as they say here, overtake) you, you have to pull onto the shoulder so they can get by without going into the other lane. Slightly scary when there’s oncoming traffic. However, it is a civilized society: they have cameras mounted on poles, that records your speed and takes your picture if you’re speeding. A week or two later, you’ll get a ticket in the mail.

What really makes me laugh here is the way of pronouncing words. For example: Weber grills are “wee-ber,” a road is a “root” instead of a “route,” making computer network routers called “root-ers.” Dem had us American girls in giggles with his pronunciation on the Cape Town trip.

Township Tour

Bethany and I went on a township tour with Calabash Tours Saturday morning. I was a little nervous because the last time I was in the townships, I left with a very bad feeling.

Our driver and tour guide picked us up at home at 10 AM in a nice big van, along with another girl from the UK. They started out driving around Central, the oldest area of town, which is dangerous now. There are a lot of Nigerians who have moved to South Africa and live in Central. There is a big stereotype against Nigerians, even by the black Africans driving us around, because many of them are drug dealers. We drove up to the Donkin Reserve: Donkin is the last name of the man who started the city of P.E. His wife Elizabeth passed away 2 years before he came to South Africa, and so he built a pyramid memorial for her, and named the town after her. We also stopped by Fort Fredrick and the city hall.

Finally, we began driving out to the township. They’re hard to describe, so I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. We drove through several of the townships, some in better condition than others. The tin and wood shacks make up the squatter camps, which are illegal. The government tells people not to build their homes in these areas, but they do anyway, until the government builds houses for everyone. The brightly colored houses are the ones promised by the government. After several years of living there, the family owns the house. This is to stop people from selling the houses to get the money instead.

From the top of a hill, you can see for miles, and the township houses cover every inch. 500,000 people live there.

We also drove through a nicer area, where the stone houses were slightly bigger and most had fences or walls surrounding the house. This is where the African police lived under Apartheid: since they were cooperating with the government, they received better housing. This is also where our tour guides told us that most of our students at Alex and Pearson probably live (they can afford to attend the English schools in town).

One house that we drove by had brick walls surrounding the house and yard. On top of the wall, jagged pieces of glass and broken bottles had been glued, sticking up to act as barbed wire and prevent people from hopping the wall (which was at least 6 feet tall anyway). We stopped at one of the small shops for a juice or cool drink break, and then walked to a school that is partially funded by this tour we were on. They educate and feed 120 children whose families can’t afford to feed them. Some families receive money for the children, but they spend the money on alcohol instead. They have more kids to receive money, but they can’t afford to spend the children to school or feed them properly.

We met some of these children, who shyly sang some songs for us. In the Xhosa culture, it is impolite to look an adult in the eye. They show respect by being quiet and looking down.

We passed several cemeteries. Many many graves still had the fresh mounds of dirt covering them, and many headstones were simply pieces of cardboard. We also passed a funeral parade and 2 other funerals. AIDS is a huge problem here, but it’s dishonorable for someone to die of AIDS. The current President, Thabo Mbeki, has even claimed that AIDS is a disease caused by poverty. However, we did see some billboards in the township promoting safe sex. It’s interesting that the HIV/AIDS awareness campaigns are seen in the townships easily, but you hardly see them in the city.

Finally, we drove past a new memorial for some of the freedom fighters and a new anti-Apartheid museum that is not yet open. There is a huge controversy surrounding these two structures, because many people feel that the money should be spent on housing for the people first.

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.

Addo/Schotia

First off: I ran out of room at my webshots site, so I started a new one: http://community.webshots.com/user/afrikatie2
But check out both for my new pictures.

Isn’t it funny that when you’re an American in a foreign country, you gravitate toward other Americans? I know (and regularly see) all the other COST students in P.E. (there are 8 of us) as well as a few other random Americans studying or working here. It’s great to have someone to talk to about the frustrating things at school, the funny things they do here, and how things are back home (Bethany just got here from OU with all the new gossip for me). We all take care of each other, too: since we know how it is to be new and not know anyone or be able to go anywhere, we invite each other out on the weekends and take trips together.

Anyway, even though I love hanging out with the Sarahs and Bethany, I really love my South African friends. They give good advice, take me to the store when I need a lift, and they’re always up for a road trip or even a day trip to a game park.

This is how we ended up at Addo Elephant Park and Schotia Safaris this weekend. Addo is huge: it’s the big game park around here. You could spend 2 days driving through all the roads. We spent 3 hours and barely hit a fraction of it. We also only saw 5 elephants (at a distance) of a total of 450 in the park. On the back of our pamphlet they gave a list of animals in the park to mark off. So, in addition to elephants, we also saw: zebra, kudu (these antlered deer-like animals are MASSIVE), hartebeest, warthog (the babies are adorable), eland, bushbuck, duiker, ostrich (these things are everywhere), blue crane, and either an eagle or buzzard. It’s pretty cool being able to just drive around and see all these animals roaming the bush or sitting by the road. Also, the signs warning about lions and dangerous animals, and to exit your car at your own risk (at designated look out points) were pretty cool. Where else do you have to look for lions before exiting your vehicle? However, we saw more animals at Kragga Kamma, so it wasn’t incredibly exciting.

The most interesting thing about Addo, to me at least, was this warning on our brochure (they also had signs as you drive in): NO CITRUS FRUIT ALLOWED IN THE WILDLIFE AREA! Kind of an interesting warning, I thought. Also, I know that Addo is right next to citrus farm (this was where I stayed my first weekend in South Africa). Anyway, the brochure does an excellent job of explaining why, so I’ll let you see their warning: “In the past, elephants were fed large amounts of citrus fruit in the winter months at a certain point in the park so that tourists could see them regularly. A truck would enter the wildlife area and dump the oranges. Elephants would run behind, screaming, roaring and grabbing oranges from the truck. The vegetation around the feeding area was decimated, as elephants didn’t move out of the area for fear of missing the feeding sessions. Levels of aggressions between elephants rose, some were injured and many showed signs of severe stress when competing for oranges. Due to all these problems, the practice of feeing citrus was phased out by 1979.”

After a citrus-free picnic lunch, we packed up and drove about ½ hour to Schotia Safaris. We had booked the afternoon and evening drive, which also included dinner. Schotia advertises their tours as “Your best chance to see lions hunting.” Our ranger, Carl, immediately loaded us up into an open-sided land ranger with 4 other tourists from Europe, and we were off. The cool thing about Schotia is that it’s a private game reserve. That means you have to go with their tours, but they know where the animals are and they can go off the main trails to find them. We started out the tour in the main area of the reserve. It wasn’t anything too exciting: we saw a lot of blesbuck, hartebeest, springbuck, bushbuck, steenbok, impala, and so on (all the antlered, deer-like animals). The wildebeest were pretty exciting, though, because we saw them stampeding. They’re actually pretty dumb, and spend the whole day running around wildly. If one member of the herd swings his tail around (a sign that he saw danger), everyone begins stampeding. In this area of the reserve, there is no danger, so they’re just a pretty skittish bunch. We also saw giraffes and zebra on the way to the braai area. We stopped off for tea and coffee, and some of my favorite bread: roosterkoek, made on the braai.

After a short break, we were off again on another 2 hour drive, to find some more animals and to visit the lion area. The “landie” added to the adventure: I sat in the middle at the back, which was higher up than the seats in front, so I almost bumped my head a few times. It wasn’t as bad as the guys sitting next to me: when we went around some turns and up some hills, I thought they were about to slide right off the bench and out of the vehicle! We stopped at one of the water holes to observe the Most Dangerous Animal in Africa: the hippo. They kill more people than any other animal worldwide. They are herbivores. But they’re very territorial and nervous. They soak in the water all day, sometimes only revealing the very tip of their nose. If they’re hidden in the weeds, you might go by for a swim, not realizing that there’s a hippo about to chomp you. At night, they go out to graze, and return in the early morning. This is also the time when people in villages come out to collect their water. If the hippo returns and you’re between them and the water, you’re about to get attacked. I think it’s pretty cool how they kill people, but if you don’t want to read, skip the rest of this paragraph. They open their mouth wide to warn you, then charge and gouge your stomach with their lower teeth. When you fall forward into their mouth, they bite down. Then they stomp on you for good measure. Hippos can also run at 40 km/hr which is about 30 miles/hr, so you can’t really outrun them.

While we watched the hippos (well actually the half of the hippo heads we could see sticking out of the water), our ranger Carl regaled us with tales of his game-trapping days. To catch a hippo, you cannot just shoot them with a dart: if they’re in the water, they’ll sink and drown, and if they’re not in the water, they’ll run back there, then drown. So, you have to put some grain at the edge of the water, each night moving it further and further away. Eventually you begin to lead them into a truck. After a few months of this, you have someone waiting on top of the truck to shut the doors. Obviously, it takes a long time and a lot of grain. Giraffes are equally hard to catch: it involves a ground crew and an air crew, in a helicopter. The helicopter crew follows a giraffe and tranquilizes it, hovering around the area so the ground crew can find them. If a giraffe is laying with its head down for too long, too much blood will rush to its head, vessels will burst, and it will die (this is also why they lift their heads every few seconds while drinking: they have huge hearts, and the tight skin around their legs helps constrict the blood there, but their necks and heads don’t have that kind of protection). So the ground crew has to get there, put some harnesses around the giraffe, lift his head, and then help him stand up when he comes to. They also only capture baby giraffes, because adults are too tall to fit into a truck (and trucks must fit under bridges!)

We stopped near the white rhino, who was grazing (white rhinos graze grass, black rhinos eat leaves: it has nothing to do with color). He seemed to be pretty friendly, or at least he didn’t seem aggressive. He actually didn’t acknowledge us at all. He was pretty huge, and walked right by our landie: I think Pete could have reached out and touched him.

Finally we made it to the lion area. They keep the lions separate from the other animals because apparently lions have expensive tastes. They let the lions out for a week a few years back, and they started killing the endangered bucks as well as zebras and giraffes. Now they have 1600 acres to themselves, and the reserve buys a new herd of springbok for them to hunt each year. (This is why Schotia is “your best chance to see lions hunting”: because they don’t get fed).

The first lions we found were the males, lying along the road, taking a rest. They were about 10 feet away from our open vehicle: it was very exhilarating. The manes were huge and reminded me of a collie, and the rest of their bodies seemed kind of skinny. (The 8 lions here eat about 2 springbok each week.) When he looked up at us, his eyes were completely cold and dead. The ranger says that lions are killing machines and killing machines only: it’s what they do. If any of us had stood up and started jumping around, he probably would have attacked. As it was, he saw the landie as a single, huge beast, and was happy to let us live. When the one stood up to walk over to his brother, he stalked in a lazy, deliberate way that seemed to emphasize how fast he can go when he wants to.

We then drove around some more until we found the lioness and her three cubs. They just followed her around like cubs do. We also followed her around, which I felt slightly bad about. She didn’t seem worried or protective of her babies, but she did keep moving.

Finally, we returned to the braai area for a delicious meal of wildebeest, roosterkoek, veggies, salad, squash, chicken, and rice. We chatted with our ranger some more, and when it was very dark, headed back to the main building. One of the European boys sat in the front and shined the spotlight all around: we could see the herds of animals still grazing, or settling down to sleep.

The safari was definitely the coolest day I’ve had in Africa yet.

Friday (the day before Addo and Schotia) we had a half day of school because it’s the last day of the term. We now have a full week for school holidays before the second term begins. I spent a lot of the last week of school chatting with my classes about America. It’s pretty fun being an expert on America and answering all their questions, especially the whispered questions from my grade 8’s: “What are the clubs like?” and “What’s the drinking age?”

After school let out at 11, I caught a ride over to Summerstrand (another area of P.E., this is where the beach is) and met up with Bethany. We spent some time at Bayworld: the best tourist attraction in P.E. They have a snake park, a museum, an oceanarium (where I saw a shark!), and the dolphin show. I’m sure it was pretty typical if you’ve ever been to Seaworld or something similar, but I haven’t so it was really cool. The African penguins were my favorite: they’re little and cute. It still kind of boggles my mind that some penguins have to be kept warm.

After a nice day of dolphin watching, walking along the beach, and shopping at the boardwalk, we met up with friends to take the free African drum lessons at the boardwalk. It lasted for about an hour, after which my hands stung and my legs were a little sore from holding the drum the whole time. It was a good time though: there were maybe 25 people sitting in a circle. The instructors taught us different rhythms and then split us up into groups to play different ones at the same time, exactly like elementary school music class (I have some videos if anyone wants to see). At the end, we had to hit each other’s drums: first on the left, then our own, then on the right. It was hard, but we all had a blast.

More about Alex

I haven't been writing much about my teaching lately, so those of you who are interested, here you go.

I'm now teaching all 4 classes: the two grade 8's, the grade 10 math literacy, and grade 11. My grade 8's are still my favorite. Of course, this is the age level that I want to teach, and some days I even think I would like to teach younger kids: 5th or 6th grade. The kids are sweet, they're still scared when you yell at them, and the subject material can actually be fun.

Cute story: They have Cadbury chocolate bars that can be broken down the middle: one side says yes, the other says no. On the wrapper, there's a question, like "Do you forgive me?" The idea is that you get the chocolate bar for someone that you want to ask that question to, they read it, unwrap, break the chocolate in half, and then (hopefully) hand you the side that says "yes." Anyway, one of the teachers yelled at her grade 8 class one day. The next day, they presented her with the "Do you forgive me?" chocolate bar, with "me" crossed out and "us" written in its place. The best part was that she couldn't even remember what had made her so mad at them.

So yeah, I really enjoy the grade 8's. They give me energy in class. I can talk to the class sometimes, and joke around with them in class and they don't get too out of hand.

The grade 11's are okay. I just started teaching them and we've only really done review work, a test, and more review. They're a standard grade class (they have standard grade vs. higher grade classes: higher grade are harder). However, every time I try to go over and mark a worksheet in class, they look at me like they didn't even do it. This class really drags me down and makes me tired, because they just plain don't talk. I really have to work to myself animated and excited, so that I don't fall asleep! When I mark a worksheet, I don't just say the answers, or work through them myself: I ask students leading questions, and they fill in the blanks for me to work through the problem as a class. But this class takes a LOT of encouragement. It's as if they haven't done the homework, because they have nothing to say to me, and as I write on the overhead, I can see everyone copying down what I'm writing. I know that they have done the homework, because I've checked. But obviously they got every answer wrong since they're scribbling everything down. We were doing a review sheet on the nature of roots of quadratics. We ended up with one value for x, and we had to tell whether the roots were equal or unequal, rational or irrational, and so on. They had no idea whether the roots were equal or unequal. It's so very frustrating. Next term we're doing circle geometry and proofs. I'm a little nervous, because I've never taught this or anything like it. Mrs. Roberts is going to sit down with me and show me all the papers she uses and how she teaches the class, which will help a lot. The textbook for the grade 11's is absolutely horrendous. As a class, they're pretty good though: not incredibly chatty, and when I put them into partners to work, they actually WORK.

My grade 10's: that's another story. Math literacy is really an interesting subject and idea: that you learn the math needed in everyday life. For me, that would mean projects, investigations, and so on. For them (at least right now), it's a lot of busy work (I guess algebra is also an important life skill, but they don't like it). The discipline in the class is horrible: they're bouncing off the walls. I can never get them to be quiet, even after moving their seats. It's very frustrating trying to teach sometimes. The first week that I taught them, I was in a completely miserable mood after every class. Finally, though, I found a strategy that kind of works: I go through the material fast, to keep them busy. I call out the students who are talking in class. I change the seats if someone's talking a lot. And I finally changed the entire seating chart. I found that if I can be in a kinda mad, sarcastic mood, they're much better for me. It seems to kind of shock them back into silence if I have a snappy comeback for them when they blurt out in class. And actually, I kind of enjoy it as well. Some days of course, I still dislike teaching the class, but at least they don't completely wear me out anymore. It's hard not being able to smile in class, but at least most days I don't mind them, and even the days that they're horrible, I sometimes kind of enjoy them.

It's funny how the schools seems so disciplined on the outside, but are really out of control underneath. During assembly, the students are absolutely silent. They all have their uniforms on, they line up outside of class (girls on one side, boys on the other), they stand and greet the teacher at the beginning of the period. However, inside class, they speak out of turn constantly, they talk, and they're generally out of control a lot of the time. I honestly can't remember ever having to yell at my classes this much in the US. Now, I only did teach for 5 weeks in Ohio, but my classes were so much more behaved. I'm glad that I'm experiencing this, though. Before, I had trouble discipling students and I'd never given one of those "teacher speeches." Now, I feel like I'm a master of the teacher speaches. I know many different lines to use when a student is talking or not paying attention. I can easily slide on my "mad face" and look at them sternly. It's all really an act, and I'm learning it well. I feel like if I can survive my classes here, particularly the grade 10's, I can handle anything.

I've found that I sometimes teach things differently than how they've learned things. It makes it a little awkward for me, and it's usually little things. But I realize that I'm going to have to deal with this all the time as a teacher: their teacher the year before may have taught things differently, and once I get used to it, maybe there will be a different teacher. Just a fact of the teaching life, I suppose.

I've also been learning that you have to make split second decisions about everything: "how many decimal places do I round to?" "will I have to do this on the test?" and so on. Some of them are classroom policy, like the decimal places (and I don't know what Mrs. Roberts' policy is for everything, so I give my own: 2 places), and others I can't answer because I don't know. I don't make up the tests, and the teacher who does sometimes doesn't have them ready until that day, so I don't know what is on them. It makes teaching very hard sometimes. I also know that you must have a reason for everything you do. Students will pick up on things that are unfair. "But you moved me up here because I was talking, why aren't you moving them when they talk?" You have to have a reason. I made up a new seating chart for my grade 10's, who just couldn't understand why I would do that.

I'm also starting to dislike groupwork: unless it is actually a big project, that everyone really has to do work for. They also need to be reminded of how to work in a group every single day, or they get off task. I gave the grade 8's guidelines for groupwork, and a peer and self evaluation form before we even started. They had to fill out the form at the end. Even then, they got off task. I think part of it was that they knew they weren't getting marks for the work. It didn't hurt their grade at all if they didn't do the work or didn't do it correctly. I wish I could give grades for what I wanted to do.

The teachers dress pretty much the same as teachers back home. They wear sandals a lot though, and maybe it's just a thing that I have, but I feel much more professional if I wear close toed shoes with a back.

It's starting to feel like home here, I'm very much settled in, but P.E. is definately not a place I would want to live: kind of like Athens. It's fine for a quick stay, but not to settle down in.

The little things still frustrate me the most. Shopping in the supermarket is the WORST because I don't know where anything is, if they even HAVE these things (powdered sugar and bags of chocolate chips don't exist; and I still swear they don't have sour cream), or what the different brands are. And (maybe it's just my imagination), but everyone seems so RUDE! People walk right in front of you, push past you with their shopping carts, block whole aisles, and so on. Again, maybe it's just my imagination and I'm already in a bitter mood from not being able to find anything, but it seems to me that shoppers in a grocery store have no consideration for others. Even something as simple as going to the movies is different here: first of all, you choose your seats when you purchase a ticket (if it's busy, I think they select the seats for you), and I guess you have to sit in those seats. It's kinda nice when it's a crowded theater, but still weird. Then everyone stands in long lines waiting for the theater to open up: they wait til the last minute, clean it quickly, and then let everyone file in. All the doors to theaters are right next to each other, as well: no long hallways to walk down searching for your theater (at least not at any of the 3 theaters I've been to). Speaking of movies, "V for Vendetta" is one of the most incredible movies I've seen in a long time (other than the blatent "Dell" product placement). So yeah, I still get frustrated by little things that make it obvious that I'm not at home.

Also, I've been uploading more pictures that I got from friends here, so check those out. I also tried to rename the animal pictures from Kragga Kamma, and I'm pretty sure that there were either wildebeast, or buffalo. Can't remember and can't tell anymore.

Only 3 1/2 more weeks til I come home! The countdown begins.