Tropical Holidays, part II

Well this is now two week old news and I should have finished writing my thoughts on this trip while they were still fresh in my head but anyway.  A brief recap of my first Christmas away from home:  Woke up really late, spent too much money on good food and mediocre beer, hung out with friends at the local casino even though I don’t gamble, then walked on the beach and amused myself several times with the notion that “hey, it’s Christmas Day!  Merry Christmas!”  Go ahead and call me Scrooge, but I didn’t miss all the glamour and commercialism of a typical American Christmas.  It was kind of surprising to see the nonchalance found in most South Africans at Christmastime; almost everybody’s crazy about Jesus but his birthday doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal.  I guess it’s really more of a western holiday.  I mean there were some festive decorations here and there, but all in all it was pretty low key.  New Years, on the other hand was ridiculous.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people in one place.  It’s not like I had no warning though, people say Durban is the place to be on during the holidays.

Durban is a beautiful coastal city, and I certainly enjoyed a fair amount of good food and drink, but my favorite part of this trip had to have been the people I encountered.  I’m probably not supposed to use real names, and in truth I can’t remember one of them, but I’d like to talk about some of the more noteworthy characters I met on this trip.  So here goes; names have been changed to protect the innocent and amuse the guilty.  As per usual, this list is in no particular order.

Jacques Marley, the French Rasta Man:

I must’ve met this dude outside on the balcony at our backpackers.  He was staying in a room adjacent to ours and the balconies were also adjacent.  Definitely a Frenchman, very French accent, elegant gestures, smoking cigarettes, the whole nine yards.  Also very Rastafarian.  ”Jacques” has some serious dreadlocks, 20 inches or so, complete with ornamentation, as well as numerous impressive piercings.  He also plays guitar; I’d brought mine along so I asked him to play it.  First time I’d heard reggae with French lyrics!  I’m sorry to report that all I’ve retained from three years of middle school French class is how to say “Hello” and ask what time it is.  Also, I really enjoyed hearing Jacques talk about the amazed reactions some of the Zulus had when they saw his dreads; it’s very unusual to see a white guy with long hair, so decked-out dreadlocks are a real surprise.  Who’s getting culture shock now, South Africa?

Dickie, Your Friendly Neighborhood Herbalist

Another individual I encountered on the balcony, but this guy was a South African.  A Zulu to be specific.  To be even more specific he was an Inyanga.  Inyanga, loosely translated means herbalist, medicine man or witch doctor, if you want to get flavorful and possibly offend someone.  Although honestly I don’t think any stereotype or nickname could phase this guy; he was extremely friendly and personable.  Goes with the line of work I guess, because this modern Inyanga also happened to be a traveling salesman.  Having briefly dabbled in sales myself, I could see that Dickie had a solid pitch: great attitude, very likable, no discernible pressure, good pace and rhythm and of course “the show”.  Every salesman carries a selection of whatever he’s peddling, so I got a full breakdown of some of the more popular Muti (magic) products of South Africa.  It wasn’t just me of course, Dickie gave a great presentation of his wares to several of the travelers who were around.  The products included:

Herbal Detox: Ingest with tea for a complete flush of your system! Feel younger, cure what ails ya, pass drug tests and whatnot!  This was the least magical, and probably most effective of his stuff.

Protective Poultice: Introduce to bloodstream (cut yourself and rub into wound) for a magical aura to protect you from harm!  Feel safe and never fear your enemies threats again!  Blunt knives!  Repel bullets!  Ingest arsenic and laugh!  Except don’t really do that because the magic only works if you’re actually under attack!  I had some obvious doubt about this one, but I can believe the extra confidence would probably help somebody win a fight, so there might be something to be said for it’s effectiveness.

Lucky Leaf: Gobble up these herbs and go hit the blackjack tables!  This one reminded me of the “Felix Felicis” potion in Harry Potter.  You can’t lose!

Rocket Rocks: Bind a small sprinkling of this rock dust to your arm and throw a supernaturally powerful punch!  Or try it on your leg and score a goal from half field!  Dickie said he had a lot of soccer players that used this one.  Technically cheating, but it’s practically undetectable.  I’m inclined to believe the placebo effect is a big part of this one’s magic as well.

Super Sex Solution: Obviously there was a fantastic pitch for this one, but I can’t do it justice and I’m trying to keep this blog somewhat PG.  Out of the whole selection, this was the most highly demanded by far; many South Africans are crazy about sex enhancers.  I’ve got to give Dickie credit for his disclaimer: he said it would not save you from contracting HIV but it’s totally condom-friendly.  Thanks for promoting responsible mind-blowing sex, Dickie.

Since I’m poor and skeptical, I didn’t try any of these magical products, but some of the others who saw the presentation were very interested.  Anyway I always enjoy a good show, and this guy was pretty hilarious.  I asked him if he could give me a Christmas special on the ever-popular ability to smite something with lightning, but he said that one was not for sale and in truth he was still learning how to do it himself.  Oh well.  I’ve got another 20 months to learn, how hard can it be?

Jekyll and Hyde, the Contrasting Caucasians

These two friends were a pair of Afrikaans fellas who, as far as I could tell, couldn’t be more different in terms of personal beliefs and demeanor.  Unfortunately Hyde, the unpleasant one, also happened to be the more vocal of the two.  Late 20s, pretty argumentative and aggressive, and I’ll give him a sliver of credit in that he made a half-assed attempt to hide his deep rooted prejudices.  He liked talking to me and the other Americans, in fact he’d even spent some years in the states.  He had nothing nice to say about South Africa; he began by attacking it’s authenticity as an African nation.  ”If you want to see the real Africa, this is not it.  Go to Mozambique.  Go to Namibia.  Go to Botswana.  South Africa is not really Africa”.  Then of course racism reared it’s ugly head: “Black people are lazy, black people are corrupt, black people in power are going to be the death of this country”; he even made a pretty good case for why the country was better off under apartheid.  However, I could see this was a well-practiced and commonly recited rhetoric, plus I’ve heard it before.  The backbone of this argument is that the apartheid system, although unfair, was effective in keeping the country running smoothly because it put the power in the hands of people who have a background of economic and managerial experience.  All of these people being white, according to the argument, was simply a historical trend.  But I digress; the challenges of post-apartheid South Africa deserve their own post.  Actually, they deserve their own book.  Predictably, Hyde had nothing nice to say about America either.  He rambled into the offensive assumption that “Americans think people in South Africa just live with animals and wear loincloths.  How surprised were you when you found out we wear suits, and have TVs and drive cars?”  I’ve heard this one way too many times to take it seriously anymore.  My final thoughts on the subject are that ignorant people like to make incorrect racial assumptions, and the street goes both ways.  Hyde also seemed to think crime was much worse in the US than in SA, and started quoting some totally fabricated statistics which revealed that although he had the gift of gab, he was in fact very ignorant.  Incidentally, that’s exactly what he called me after I failed to differentiate the Illuminati secret handshake from a normal handshake.  South African’s obsessions with global conspiracy theories also deserve their own post.  I think you get the picture, so that’s enough about Mr. Hyde.  Oddly enough, his buddy Dr. Jekyll was a quiet, polite, reasonable guy.  Much more approachable, if you weren’t deterred by his loud and unpleasant counterpart.  I wish more of the volunteers had talked with Jekyll instead of Hyde because there’s definitely a fair bit of animosity towards the Afrikaners, which I really don’t think flows with the Peace Corps standard of being open minded and whatnot.  Or maybe I’m just the Devil’s advocate to the depths of my soul.  I mean, the animosity is not unfounded: I’ve met several others like Hyde, and many volunteers have met Afrikaners who are far worse.  The interesting part was the contrast between these two guys.

Hans, the German Volunteer Who’s Job I Envy

I was talking to Hans about what he’s doing in South Africa, and as luck would have it he’s also a volunteer!  His organization sounds akin to the German version of Peace Corps.  He’s been in country for almost a year now and his contract’s almost finished.  So I asked him what field he was in, and he’s actually been assigned a craft studio of sorts!  Woodworking tools, a welding bay, all the stuff I miss so so much from my time in America!  Super jealous.  I really wish Peace Corps had something like that for me.  Not that there aren’t things I enjoy at my schools, I can get down with computers and I just found some science kits in a dusty storeroom (WIN) but Hans sounds like he landed something I could really sink my teeth into.  Fortunately his site is fairly close to mine, so I’ll definitely be checking it out ASAP.

Well gezz, this post is getting obnoxiously lengthy and there’s still more to tell!  I’m going to have to wrap this one up for now.  To be continued, AGAIN, and I might have to interrupt this tale of travel to talk about some other stuff with the next post.  We’ll see what’s on my mind when the spirit moves me.

Tropical Holidays

Ok, this blog post is long overdue and a lot’s happened since I last wrote so I’ll do my best to hit all the highlights.  I spent the beginning of December in Pretoria for a continuation of Peace Corps training. The venue was definitely the nicest hotel I’ve stayed at in my life.  Of course that’s probably saying more about my previous accommodations than the hotel, but seriously it was really nice.  Our whole troop stayed there for 10 days, then went on to various holiday destinations.  I was with a large group (20 or so) who went to the coastal city of Durban, a popular getaway for tourists and nationals alike.  As you might surmise, the quality of my lodging and transportation went steadily downward as the trip progressed.  Of course I say this with a smile on my face; it’s my belief that an authentic experience includes shitty hostels, broke-down buses and poorly coordinated outings.  It’s fun in hindsight anyway.  I threw in with 3 other volunteers for a rental car to drive ~600 kilometers from Pretoria to Durban, which actually couldn’tve gone much better.  The guys who went to pick it up got horribly lost, but I had the good fortune of remaining behind while that happened.  I know I would’ve done the exact same thing if it were me trying to navigate around Pretoria for the first time.  When they did return, I decided to go for a little practice spin before departure.   So I immediately went to the right (incorrect) side of the road, punched the door several times with my right hand before getting used to the left side gearshift, and turned on the windshield wipers every time I tried to use a turn signal.  This is what practice runs are for, right?  Despite this sketchy start, we actually got to Durban without a hitch.  The highway system here is surprisingly intuitive and traffic was mercifully minimal.  The drop-off was a little stressful though: it was Christmas Eve and the attendant who was supposed to meet us left early (can’t really blame ‘em) and we thought they’d charge us an extra day of rental.  It all worked out though, so all’s well that ends well.

The lodging we’d originally booked is what I would describe as a hostel, although in South Africa they’re called “backpackers”.  This word on the street (i.e. volunteer rumor mill) about this particular backpackers was that it sucked and should be avoided like the plague.  After staying there for 10 days, I can see some obvious reasons for this reputation.  Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Cockroaches.  Not surprisingly, these little bastards really grossed out a lot of the Americans.  Some of them were pretty huge.  Made me want to watch Men in Black.

2. Bedbugs.  Everybody hates tiny insects that feed on human flesh. I was lucky enough to not be gnawed on by these bloodsucking parasites.  I did get stung repeatedly by jellyfish, but that’s not the hostel’s fault.

3. Minimal security.  With 12 people to a room, it’s hard to keep track of everything.  Fortunately I didn’t suffer any major losses, but  if I find out who ate my chocolate bars they’re definitely getting their kneecaps busted.

4. Uncomfortable beds.  I couldn’t care much less, but there was definitely a lot of griping about this subject.

5. First floor of the building is a brothel.  This is a bad thing……?  Oh right, for the reputation.  Yes.  Very, um, unprofessional.

6. Sketchy neighborhood.  We’ve all been warned time and time again about how crime is a huge problem, especially in cities.  Durban is no exception, and some volunteers did have a pretty serious incident on new years, but that’s another story.  For now I’ll just say that luckily no one was hurt; all’s well that ends well.

7. Loud, destructive, unsupervised kids running around everywhere.  I almost forgot to include this one because it’s a constant everywhere I go in this country.

OK now that we’ve established why the hostel sucked, I have to play devil’s advocate here and make a list of the place’s redeeming qualities:

1. Proximity to the beach.  It was a 2 block walk.  For the equivalent of 15 bucks per night, that’s tough to beat.

2. Friendly staff!  Hooray for good people!

3. Other fun loving travelers also stayed there!  Hooray for interesting people!

4. Cheap beer.  What can I say, I’m easily satisfied.

5. Balcony.  Make that “extremely easily”

5. Shitty pool table.  The best thing about this was that the balls didn’t always eject properly so sometimes we had to take the table apart and fish them out of the rails, which was totally fine with the staff.

6. Price is right.

7. Showers.  Trust me folks, after months of hauling water home just to lamely splash it over oneself and call it a “bath”, a few meters of pipe plus a pump, furnace and faucet is a glorious luxury.

Me personally, I didn’t think the accommodation was too bad, I mean what do you want out of your Peace Corps budget lodging?  Plus I didn’t plan to spend my vacation kicking around a lounge, so upon arrival I immediately wandered off down the beach.  First time in an Ocean other than the Atlantic!  And let me tell you, the coast of Kwa Zulu Natal is much warmer than Cape Cod, by at least 30 degrees.  I also had a firsthand reiteration (learning the hard way) of those geography lessons which explain why equatorial regions are hot and polar regions are cold.  [Science lesson warning! Skip to the paragraph about surfing if you're getting bored!]  Contrary to the usual guesses, it is not because the “fat middle” of the earth is closer to the sun; that distance is negligible.  The actual reason is that incident sun rays strike the earth at different angles according to it’s curvature.  As one approaches the equator, the angle of incidence approaches a right angle; a right angle provides the maximum solar energy per square meter, or mile or whatever unit of measurement you prefer.  Ergo the closer one gets to the equator, the more direct the sunlight, the more intense the heat.  In normal English: The sun in South Africa is a hell of a lot more powerful than in upstate New York.  By day three I was sufficiently lobster-ized; would have been comical if it weren’t so painful.

Despite being sunburned, sleep depraved and horribly out of shape I decided to try surfing.  It’s a bit harder than it looks, but it’s a great time if you get good conditions.  The experienced surfers among us thought it wasn’t ideal, but not too terrible either.  I had fun anyway.  The guy who rented us the boards was quite a character.  This guy went by the name of “Jay Jay”, he looked to be mid 50s but might have been only 30 something with a serious drug collection tearing through his system.  A high energy beach bum, he struck me as a California-style surfer dude with a South African accent and severe ADD.  He kept stressing the recent damage inflicted upon his boards by some British Army troops on holiday, and seemed reluctant to let a bunch of rookie foreigners take them out again for fear of a repeat.  So he waxed up some boards, took us down to the beach talking about proper surfing technique at several hundred words per minute and he wanted proof that we wouldn’t be breaking any boards or hurting anybody.  Seems like all the proof he required was our good word, because before we’d even gotten in the water he was ready to leave: “Awl righ’ then, ‘ave a great toyme, eh?” and with that he staggered on down the beach to do god knows what.  What a fella.  So trusting.

Ok, there’s more to tell but I’m just going to post this first part now and give people a chance to read it while giving myself a chance to assimilate my thoughts properly.  Stay tuned.  Now that I’m back in the village and have way too much free time again I’ll likely be posting more frequently.