2012: The best year yet

Happy New Year!

As many people do, I thought I'd reflect on the past year and list some of the things I got up to.  I've sure jammed quite a bit into 12 months!  There have been some great experiences and some sad ones, but overall I think it's an impressive list (if I do say so myself).

When I started thinking about this list I was feeling a little down in the dumps.  Moving to South Africa has proved to be one of the most difficult things I've ever done.  So I wasn't exactly looking back with rose tinted glasses.  But after thinking about all the exciting things - the happy and oh-so privileged things - I got up to (and my reasons for coming here), it really was a year worth living.  It was much more balanced and blessed than I originally thought. 

In no particular order, in 2012 I...:

Moved continents (again)
Set foot in 5 countries (Canada, UK, USA, SA, and Lesoeto)
Started horse back riding (again)
Started a business
Went tubing, and swimming, and dipped my whole self in the South Atlantic Ocean
Learned how to drive on the wrong side of the road
Made friends with African Traders at Rosebank
Taught the dog how to 'Shake A Paw', 'Speak', and 'Sit Pretty' (even though she can't balance on her own...)
Got fit and healthy
Quit a job I did not like
Got a permit to live in SA (Oh but not to work...)
Fell in love with Cape Town
Missed my family a ton
Got to see them for a fantastic visit in March / April
FaceTime (and excitedly) welcomed the long awaited arrival of the wonderful Marcel (son of Steph and Andrew)
Learned a little Greek (Xronia Polla!)
Had my iPhone stolen
Had my lost wallet returned
Celebrated the marriages of Chris and Tina and Andrew and Stacey
Had the best B&B experience of my LIFE
Got a tan in December
Got my complete damage deposit back from UK estate agents
Rang in the New Year from the Drakensberg Mountains horse-back riding across mountain tops

I'm sure I've missed a few things, but when I think of the year like that, it sure has been eventful and busy.  I'm going to start keeping a list from the beginning of the year that will include some of my goals for this year, and some of the things I've accomplished or experienced.  In an effort to be more positive it's helpful for me to have something I can look at that reminds me (in black and white) that it hasn't all been difficult. I'm starting to look at it like climbing a mountain - I sometimes get so focused on getting to the top all I can feel is the pain and aches along the way.  I often forget about those breathtaking moments when you stop halfway to rest and recuperate. If you take a moment and look around it's pretty amazing what the world has in store for you.

xx
Niki

The Answer... The Need... And Hal

The Actual Home Affairs where it all took place

Ah, Home Affairs… No matter how Westernized Joburg feels (and it does with it’s traffic and malls and Soap Operas – check out 'Isidingo: The Need', it’s a trip) you realize you’re in Africa the moment you need to renew your driver’s license, register a baby’s birth or want to stay in SA, like me!

After our last trip to apply for the permit I was dreading going back.  Particularly because I was expecting to be denied, and told I filled out one of the forms incorrectly.  Because I did fill one of the forms out incorrectly.  According to said form I am single/divorced AND widowed, but am pretty sure I SHOULD be one or the other, not all three (although technically you could be all three, so now I’m really confused about the 'right' answer).  Anyways, I think I was supposed to cross two options out and leave my current marital status.  Oops?

So we got the text after 6 months of waiting saying that 'they' had reached an answer and we could proceed to the Home Affairs office in 5 working days.  I figured I should check first, to make sure the paperwork is there and ready, before going through the hectic process of collecting the permit. So we waited, and called and decided to wait some more for good measure. I thought that the ‘Africa Time’ Rule of Thumb probably applied here (meaning take the original ‘suggested’ time and times by 5, then divide by 2, then find out the time you were given actually had nothing to do with your situation and get a new correct time which you still times by 4 and divide by 2 - if you're an optimist - to get the actual time you should wait before you assume it’s been long enough) so we waited an additional 2 months before we called our ‘friend’ and asked to put our name on the list for the following morning.   That’s what I love about Africa.  Everything just makes sense. Side note: We verified this equation with our friend and he confirmed we were spot on! Side note 2: It's a dangerous game, this math.  Let me tell you that the possibility of your paperwork going missing increases exponentially the longer you wait. It's like gambling.  Kinda fun, but kinda scary. Side note 3: Sparkly pens! 

So we show up at Home Affairs and RESULT!  We are 4^th on the waiting list.  Even though there is a written list people still line up.  But not in list order - just to add to the general confusion people line up in random order.  We get in line anyways, just in case it means something, but also out of solidarity for those who think the line/cue system will work (hopeful fools).  Even though we are 4^th on the list, we are actually 14^th in line.  Not numerically a big difference, but it could mean 6 hours of additional waiting. You just don’t know.  After a few hours of pondering our predicament Home Affairs Lady (H.A.L. or Hal as I fondly remember her) comes out of the residential building and starts collecting the submission forms from our line.  We give the form to her and expect to be taken up to the office in small groups for The Answer (*ominous music*).  But she takes the forms from all 302 people waiting and leaves without us, locking the gate behind her.  We wait, and wait, and wait.  This is not the same process we saw before when we were jealously watching the Collections Line from the Submissions Line.  But that’s hardly surprising.  I get the feeling that South Africans like to mix it up a bit, you know, keep customers on their toes.   

Hal Arrives

Finally there’s some movement at the gate.  It’s Hal! But everyone is just crowing forward, pressing into the lobby of the residential building.  I panic!  This is not going to work!  We’ll never get to the front of the line and our careful planning will all be for nothing. NOTHING! Wait…That means we’ll have to COME BACK?!’.  Then, like the veteran of the London transport system I am, I mentally slap myself out of the injustice induced shock, and sprint between the slow amble of the African mob to get myself within shouting distance of Hal, now standing there like a dictator on the stairs with her box of forms and answers.

She starts calling out a name, shouting it over and over, everyone craning their necks to see who among us will have an answer at last.  A hand tentatively goes up. It is Mdabi!  Mdabi has an answer!  ‘REJECTED! No Passport.’ Hal shouts in a cold and kinda mean voice. ‘Ohhhhh’ the crowd murmurs, ‘Does that means he didn’t have his passport when he submitted, or he doesn’t get the passport he was applying for?’ I ponder.  I’m sweating now.  I am going to get a ‘NO!’ in front of all these people.  ‘How embarrassing’ I think, my small Canadian need for privacy shuddering.  Name after name is called with ‘Rejected!’ following every one.  It’s actually a pretty smart way to control the influx of immigrants - Just reject them all, and give a one word ambiguous answer that they can’t question without taking their lives in their hands and possibly being attacked by the white eyed crowd. 

Then something different happens.  Hal calls out a name, that person quietly sobbing, but this time Hal holds her hand out, as if expecting a tip, or payoff in front of the whole crowd (corruption!!).  Everyone is confused but from the back someone yells out ‘Your passport – give her your passport!’.  And the passport is passed, hand over hand to the front and up the stairs, where Hal puts a green sticker inside.  Yay! Maybe we’re through all the rejections! Then she calls out ‘Nicole Berry!’ but like ‘NeeCol Berrrrrry’ and she roles the ‘rrrs’ so that I barely recognized my own name.  I hope she’s through the rejections!   

And then, just like in ‘The Creation Of Adam’, her hand extends through a ray of sunshine, fingers outstretched like she’s looking for money!  

I throw my passport to her and turn to give an excited ‘I got it!  I actually GOT it!’ to the small, old woman I nearly trampled to get towards the front of the cue.  She doesn’t hold it against me though because she’s awesome.  She could be my new BFF, my South African BFF now that I can stay in the country for another 2 years!  My passport makes it back to me, Permit stickered inside.  What a moment.  

As much as I keep saying ‘In Canada, we’ve got this paperwork/bureaucracy stuff all figured out – it’s so easy, takes like 5 minutes.’, I do realize that if this had been Canada, they would have caught the mistake and i would have been denied.  

So here’s a photo of me and Pete and my new Permit (valid until June 2012, so it’s not the full two years and we’ll have to reapply a bit sooner than I thought).  You can see in the photo how stressed (and tired and lopsided face) I was because the tendons in my neck won’t relax.  Their still kinda like that now and I’m a bit worried they will stay that way.  But it was worth it in the end.

Note: I've embellished a few small details.  Its what I do. :) 

xox

Drag Queens, Driving and Design

These beautiful vines are everywhere.  I want to know what they are so I can get some, even if they turn out to be weed

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A proud business owner!

The baking has to stop. Now.

I’ve been a bit late in putting a blog entry together, but I have a good reason.  I’ve started a business (yay!).  Not that I thought I would be fine with sitting around for too long – I was pretty sure I’d get bored of being unemployed pretty quickly and end up getting into trouble.  You know, like baking every day (and eating the results), shopping a lot, or obsessively doing housework (haha, as if).  I started looking for something creative to do here in Joburg, and without a ceramics studio I had to get creative about what I could create…. I started out with Paper Mache (don’t we all?) and the great idea that I could make lanterns from string and paper (thanks Pinterest!) and sell them at a local market.  Fail.  I learned some great things in that first week of making:

Aziza our dog is a big part of my business

1) Pete will always say something nice about anything I create (‘Wow – look at that!’)

2) If you read between the lines you can understand what he’s really saying (‘Wow – you actually think someone would pay for that?’).

3) Great creative ideas take time to develop and if you answer yes to the question  ‘Does this look like it was made in a kindergarden class?’, you need to scrap it and start again.

Pintrest said it would be easy...

Shweshwe

 Eventually, the cat-vomit-like the balls of string and paper evolved into a structure made of wood and fabric, and grew into 4 different sizes.  Getting inspiration from the Shweshwe fabrics prevelant in SA was great – they have lovely, colourful patterns and work well with the rustic feel of the wood.  I sorted through the various product problems that arose, including ‘How can I make this lantern safe to use with candles, so that even the least fire safe individual can operate them without burning the house down?’ They say ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’, but I was pretty sure that a burned down house would be bad press.  So I found a great flame retardant and got on with it. 

I finally had something I could proudly put my name on.  And I did: www.nikiberry.com, Internet home of Niki Berry Design.  

We got into Rosebank Rooftop Sunday Market (which is fantastic) and have Parkview Charity Christmas Market coming up. You can read all about it on Facebook.   We also have a few retail options in the works.  It’s nice to have people appreciate all your blood, sweat and tears – and believe me, I have given all these things to the lantern gods.  Including a ‘too gross for the internet story’ (yes there is such a thing) abut a splinter getting lost in my finger (my body eventually won).  Eww!

Anyways, that’s a short update about what I’ve been up to lately.  Now here’s a few more things that go back a few months.

Everyone loves a photo set!

The reason for the horrible morning after

Madam Zingara’s

Pete’s cousin Alex was raving about this crazy dinner and a show that you can go to at Monte Casino.  She said it was so great and we had to go.  I wasn’t sure what to make of it – it sounded cool, but Alex likes a lot of things, so you never know what you’re in store for… Jokes – Alex has great taste in all things so we knew it was going to be a treat.  And it was.  It was this cool dinner and drinks in this great old carnival tent with performers, like drag queens and hoolahhoop girls and a bathtub dancer (which I don’t even know how you get into because dancing in the bathtub was a definite nono in my house, for good reason), and you get all dressed up and can buy neat old stylish hats and wow I just had the BEST TIME!  Until I woke up the next day and realized that I lost my wallet.  In Johannesburg.  Plus I was a little hung over so it was the worst follow up to a great night I’ve had in a long time.  And it was Sunday so no one was working to tell me if anyone (an angel) turned in my wallet (that my best friend Steph gave me which I LOVED, and had my Canadian drivers license, and UK bankcard which they WILL NOT replace by post).  So I had to wait until Monday to find out that the angel was our waiter, who found it and handed it in to the floor manager, who actually kept it for me AND gave it back Tuesday.  Crazy. Lucky.

My First Big Fat Greek Wedding 

Pete’s good friend Alexia had a wedding at an absolutely fabulous venue Summer Place, which rumour has it, was originally owned by a Mobster who used a fountain / pool for real champagne.  It was a beautiful wedding, great people, awesome food and these little bites of wonderfulness flown in from Cypress, called Koufeta.  But these weren’t just any Koufeta – these were covered in flavoured chocolate under the candy shell, flavours like Cappuccino, coconut, orange and more!  So.  Good.

Some of the cool things you can see when you drive!

Driving

I’ve been driving more and more and think I’m finally over the fear.  I realized that I was working myself up over a small deal.  My fear came from how busy the roads are – really hectic during rush hour, and the fact that you're on the other side of the road (all that emergency driving training could kick in and put me on the wrong side of a bad situation! Literally).  But, since everyone drives here (kids, visually impaired people, dogs...), you see a lot of 90 year old people getting around just fine.  So I thought, ‘I’m not going to get shown up by little old ladies – I can DO this!!’. So I’m starting with shorter trips on my own, and building up.  I did a little running around the other day and just kept thinking ‘I feel so NORMAL!’.  Was really nice. 

Lots more to talk about, but that’s what happens when you don't update your blog regularly.

PS – I got my Life Partners Permit.  It was another fantastic example of African culture, so you won’t be disappointed with my next blog.

Home Affairs – Putting The Africa Back In South Africa

25 easy steps to getting a temporary residency permit in South Africa: Life Partner Permit

Sorry for the long delay - I've been busy starting a business.  I'll write more about that later.  For now to catch you up on the long awaited Visit To Home Affairs...  Du Du Duhhhhh. 

What can I say about Home Affairs?  People warned me it would be an experience to remember and they did not disappoint. 

You go to Home Affairs to deal with ‘affairs’ of the ‘Home’ country, in this case South Africa.  If you need a Drivers License, Work Permit, Marriage / Divorce Certificate, or as in my case a Life Partner Permit (which allows me to live here and work here if I have the proper documents / job offer...), you need to spend some time at Home Affairs.  Now in most countries you would go to these official offices and pick up the relevant forms, gather your paperwork and stand in line or take a number.  Once your number is called you submit said documents to the official looking person sitting behind the counter.  That person might not always be friendly, but they usually know their stuff.

T.I.A. (This Is Africa) is a saying that a lot of people use when dealing with things that just don’t seem to work properly. Like going to Home Affairs.  For a government organization it’s about as unorganized and confused as you can get.  Actually I can’t say it’s unorganized as there IS a weird, mixed up, chaotic organization to it all, you just have to figure it out for yourself, each painful step of the way.

Here, I will outline the process as experienced by me, as a record for those who need to go through it, for family and friends interested in the small, hilarious differences between our respective countries, but mostly it’s for my own reference for the next time I have to go (joy!). Hopefully it will make it an easier process for anyone who has to go through it as well. 

25 Simple Steps To Getting Your Life Partner Permit

1.     Go to nearest Home Affairs Branch and look for the information counter to get any relevant forms and find out pertinent information. It's important to note that you might not be looking for a regular Government Office Building.  It could be a convenience store, residential building, or farm.

2.     Find the information desk is vacant (doesn’t look like anyone has sat in that seat for a few years) and wait for half an hour before someone takes pity on you and directs you to jump the queue (scary when you’ve lived in London where people lose their lives for that) and get the information you need.  Also the slots that contain the forms you need is empty, not a scrap of paper left.

3.     Jump the queue after half an hour of pondering which one of the 50 people in front of you is the likeliest to cause you bodily harm (it’s always the ones you don’t suspect so I kept my eye on the old lady with the twin babies strapped to her back).

4.     Ask the person behind the counter all your questions, or try to over the other people yelling questions, one of which seems to have taken issue with the fact that they’ve lost her passport.

5.     Leave only knowing that this branch doesn’t deal with the permit you need and you need to go to Johannesburg Central (a particularly dodgy part of town that most people would rather avoid) or Pretoria (town about 1hr out of JoBurg).

6.     Make a few calls to the Home Affairs Helpline who tell you that you can’t submit at Pretoria like you were told, but you can submit the paperwork at a different office in Germiston. They are helpful in telling you exactly what you need, but can’t offer specific guidance on the forms.  For that you have to call the Germiston Office, so they give you their number.

FYI-What you need to submit a Life Partner Permit:

-Application Form

            -Affidavit Confirming Life Partnership (must be notarized)

-Letter confirming the SA Citizen will support the applicant -both financially and emotionally (also notarized)

-3 Months of Bank Statements from the SA Citizen

-Medical certificate signed by a Dr. and not older than 3 months, stating the applicant is in good health and not crazy

-Radiology Report not older than 3 months, stating the applicant doesn’t have Tuberculosis

-Police Clearance from your home country stating you aren’t a criminal

-Proof of co-habitation before coming to SA

-Proof of mutual support before coming to SA (ie bank transfers, payments etc)

7.     Try without luck to get through to the Germiston office for 5 days, calling every 30 mins

8.     Finally decide to take your paperwork to the Germiston office and find out if you have everything in order when you submit

9.     Arrive to a relatively calm office with a variety of queues and no signage directing which one you need to be in.

10. Friendly man tells you that you will need passport photos and he can do these for you outside for cheap ('Sharp Sharp!').  Go with the man to a small tent outside where he does your passport photos while you wait – so handy!

11. Find out later that apparently you do not need passport photos…

12. Wait in line at the information desk, which thankfully has someone working there, where various people jump the queue but after 30 minutes you finally get to the front.  The line you are directed to is actually in another office, luckily just around the corner and upstairs

13. Go to what appears to be an apartment block… Like where people live… and go up to the first floor, no try to get up to the first floor because there are people (Queuing? Loitering? Giving birth?). Stand awkwardly for a bit, then push through until the resistance from the crowd tells you that you’re finally at the back of the queue.

Home Affairs Germiston - Yes!  It's also a residential building!

14. Wait for an hour on the stairs, where you can just make out a door, steel barred and locked. No signs, no one working, no one going in or out.

15. Realize that you don’t know the rules of organization and will probably die in the line.

16. Make a friend.  South Africa is a great place for making friends.  If you want anything done you have to make friends! Ours was a tenant of the building who ‘knew some people’ and said he would find out what we needed to do. Much better than the ‘friends’ outside who want you to give them your passport, paperwork, and R1200, so essentially your complete Identity and small savings account to boot, all wrapped up in a pretty package.  They would submit your paperwork for you, promise.

17. Learn the rules of organization: you have to be outside the office (apartment block) at roughly 3am, where the security guard would post a paper outside the gate. You have to write your name on the list, which would then be used when they opened at 8am to sort out the order of who would be first in the office. Our friend from the building actually offered to do this for us – nice gesture considering he didn’t even hint that he wanted money for it. We took his offer as neither of us could really bear the alternative.  Also, Germiston didn’t seem that friendly during the day, so I can only imagine what it was like at night.

18. Arrive with time to spare (just in case) for the 8am opening to see a big crowd had gathered.  At the rate it takes them to process one application, you realize that only about 1/3 of the people will be seen during the opening hours (8am-3pm), which adds an element of excitement and desperation to the morning air. Also anger for those who are just now figuring out there’s a list and they are number 401.

19. Try to keep it together (and air in your lungs) as the Home Affairs officer comes down causing an illogical surge of people towards the door. Even though there’s a list, he would like us to organize ourselves in two lines: Collections and Submissions.   Many people don’t want to do this so he tells us he will come back at 9am to see if we’ve sorted ourselves out. He ‘has all day, so (he’s) happy to wait’ (word for word, no jokes). Many people are waving money at him and someone even waved their baby in his face - not sure if this was to go for a sympathy vote or perhaps a trade?  Either way he wasn't budging.  No corruption here!

20. Suggest everyone do what he says which starts an open discussion as a collective group about the best way to do it.  The simple suggestion that since everyone has written their names beside a number, we should organize ourselves in that order is a bit too complicated and is met with blank stares. Someone got all riled up behind me and spit (say it dont spray it!) in my face, so I was convinced I was going to get TB.

You've made it inside! But nobody works here!

21. Eventually get called to the front of the group where we are escorted up to the locked room.  There we stand in numerical order (Yay! North American need for order and systems almost satisfied.).  The room is interesting, although sparsely decorated.  There’s an SA flag, a few portraits of SA Officials, a counter for 2 officers to process paperwork (although only one is in use some of the time), and a few old looking signs.  My favorite is the one that’s been printed with a printer from 1982 (with those little tear away guiding strips that you used to make little springy folded paper tubes with - come on, like you don't know what I'm talking about...) that says ‘Our computers are out of service, sorry for the inconvenience.’.  Wait a minute - if your computers were broken then how did you.... Never mind. My second favorite is the one basically telling you to ‘make sure you have certified copies of all your paperwork in case it gets lost, and there’s a good possibility it will.’

22. Finally you get in front of the man you need to see, the one who will thoroughly check your paperwork ensuring speedy and correct processing of your paperwork, who barely glances at your paperwork and certainly doesn’t appear check to make sure everything’s in order.  You are given a paper confirming your submission, signed and dated, and told that you will receive an SMS when your paperwork is logged – important because they will give you a reference number so that you can track your applications process, and another SMS when your paperwork is processed and ready for collection. This is when the 'Collections' side of the 3am piece of paper makes sense in a moment of delirious and disappointing clarity '...So...Wait, so I have to....Come BACK!?!'

23. Leave feeling like you’ve just run a marathon: exhausted but very pleased with what you’ve accomplished and full of dread for the Collections journey. 

24. Realize that one of the forms you submitted had a minor error and proceed to worry ‘Will this affect the outcome?’ and  ‘Will I have to do this all over again?’ for the next 9 months it will take them to give you an answer. Exciting!

25. Wait

A little update since we’ve applied: It’s been a few months now and WE GOT A TEXT! So the paperwork is somewhere in Pretoria.  Will start harassing them weekly now until we get our answer.  Just in time too as my 3 month Common Wealth visitor 'visa' just lapsed.  Until then, I just keep repeating my mantra: TIA, TIA, TIA…

Art, R&R, and Culture in Clarens And Lesotho!

In my last entry I mentioned Clarens (Martini Class 101 reference). April 26th Peter’s mother Irene booked a trip to Clarens to celebrate our birthdays, which turned out to be a very nice gift indeed. Clarens is a small town, almost a village, who’s industry seems to centre around people looking for quiet weekends away from the neighboring cities of Durban and Johannesburg. It is very close to Lesotho (pronounced Lesootoo), which is a mountain kingdom (country in it’s own right) landlocked within South Africa’s borders.

Clarens is nestled in the foothills of a South African mountain range called the Maluti Mountains. Beautiful country, high altitude, with stunning views every way you look. The main part of town is centered around a square, with galleries, restaurants, pubs, and shops all facing the large grass expanse than sometimes hosts flea markets and events. Although the pubs and restaurants all have different atmospheres, they all seem to have similar Afrikaans fare with lots of meat (Oxtail, Pork Neck, Steaks) and a few oddly placed Indian dishes – odd because there doesn’t seem to be an Indian population in the area. The galleries have amazing paintings, ceramics, and some interesting African crafts. Overall it’s a very quaint little town and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

Our B&B was lovely, located at the bottom of Clarens on a quiet street. The B&B owner Delyse, or Dee, was very attentive and friendly, and the breakfast was great every day (she warmed the plates which is a small detail but one that I appreciate to no end).  The view from the B&B actually looked like a backdrop at certain times of day - it was stunning and could be enjoyed from a large well kept garden with a glass of complimentary sherry.

Peter and Irene at our B&B in Clarens.  No, it's not a backdrop, it's the real thing!

A highlight of the trip was going across the boarders to Lesotho – such a great place to visit. I thought South Africa was Africa, until I went to Lesotho (in the best sense). We decided to play it safe and ensure we’d see everything we wanted with minimal hassle and booked a tour with Oliver Esplin (Ollie), the owner of ClarensXtreme. Such a good idea. Ollie was a fountain of knowledge on Lesotho culture, customs and roads, meaning we didn’t have to worry about where to go, or how to get there AND had pleasant, informative stories to accompany our journey.

The boarder crossing into Lesotho

The day started with being collected from our B&B. We drove the short 20mins to the Ha Belo boarder crossing (I think – sorry if I got any of the names wrong here…), a relaxed boarder where we had to show our passport to the boarder guards of both countries, each sitting a short drive from each other, across a small river. Relatively easy and quick. We then drove through the western most part of the country on winding country roads (paved and pretty exceptional with one or two potholes), slowly going up in altitude.

We made our way to Liphofung Historical Site where you can see 5000 yr old Bushman Cave Drawings and learn a bit about the Lesotho history. Our guide, Mashoeshoe (also the name of the most famous Lesotho king who went to London to visit Queen Victoria but never got to see her – long story…) was very quiet and seemed a bit shy but was full of knowledge and had a good working relationship with Ollie. The drawings were done 5000 years ago by Sangoma, or traditional spiritual healers and depict their spiritual journeys, journeys accessed through the ritual hunting of an Eland (type of large Antelope about the size of a moose) in order to divine the answers to important questions from locals or whole villages. Very interesting information about the history of the people and the area as a historical site. It was also a very pretty hike down into the small valley containing the overhanging cliff where the drawings were found. This is another item I studied during my art history education that I can happily tick off as ‘Seen in Person’.

Our guide Mashoeshoe at the Bushman Cave Drawings Site

Rinkhal snake is just to the right of the black pole...

On the way up from the caves we saw a baby snake cross the path and hide in a concrete block just off the side of where we had to walk by. Ollie wanted to see what kind it was, so he moved the block (with a stick). We found out it was a Rinkhal, one of the only true spitting snakes in the world, and a relative of the Cobra, though not in a type of Cobra, and also about a meter long, so not a baby. Pretty poisonous but very non-aggressive. When we tried to get a better look it hissed, spread it’s head thingies and high-tailed it away from us. Cool but also a bit unnerving, as we would have been directly in it’s path had we been 5 steps further up the path.

It makes me look young, right?

After this exciting encounter I’ll admit that it was hard to focus on the historical talk Mashoeshoe gave, but it was very interesting and I think everyone perked up when I asked about the marriage customs of the Lesotho (hey a girl has to know!). We went into a traditional hut where we learned more about the day to day customs. Pete was pretty intrigued as the Lesotho can often have 3 wives depending on finances. I was intrigued by the traditional head gear and got to try on the skirt a Lesotho girl under the age of 16 (so close!) would wear before marriage.

Most of the Lesotho are sheep, goat, and cattle herders with wealth increasing with the size and numbers of the animals. They wear traditional blankets, a garment that is earned and highly respected, with type of bottoms dependent on where you are in life. It is interesting to note that the Lesotho are a people with a lot of honor and pride. They are different from many Southern Africans in that they do not want to bring shame on their families – as a result the crime rates in Lesotho are minimal compared to any country, and non-existent compared to South Africa.

The scenery of Lesotho was amazing and the small city Butha-Buthe, pronounced 'Boota Boota' was what I can only describe as very African. It was more like the small African towns you see in the movies (shoddy stalls with music blaring, buildings constructed with corrugated steel, older concrete buildings all mixed together in a visually stimulating collage and peppered with lots of people). Never thought major companies like Vodafone would consent to stores made out of a bit of steel, rebar and plywood but if it works why not… Actually Pete tells me these might not be ‘authorized dealers’.

We had one last stop before leaving Lesotho and pulled over at a gas station. I’ll admit I was a little nervous because you could say we sort of stood out. But the people didn’t stare or seem intimidating. We stopped for a very good reason – Vetkoeks, pronounced 'FetCooks'. These are wonderful deep fried dough balls that went down a treat after trekking through a bit of Lesotho. What a great experience.

After getting back we had one more night to enjoy the town. Although we were pretty tired we decided to go out for a nice dinner at Hotel d’Or, which was great, including the interesting martini interpretation (anything for a good anecdote eh?).

All in all a fantastic trip. A big thanks to Pete’s Mother and Yiayia for showing us an arty, laid back part of South Africa. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, potholes and all.

xx

Cool old car

Cat that Peter fell in love with. It was reciprocated!

Another amazing view in Clarens

A female spiral aloe plant-girls spiral counter clockwise

Ice cream and espresso.  Yummy!

First Impressions: Johannesburg

So a bit of a long catch up to do after my first few weeks living in Africa. 

The journey from Canada was pretty epic, I’m not going to lie. I thought that Vancouver to London was a big one, and it is.  But add on a 6 hr layover and an 11 hr flight, travel totaled 26hrs.  I was a zombie at London Heathrow, could only get coffee, sit, phone people, stare into space. Missed out on some great duty free shopping but there are worse things to miss.

I upgraded my flight to Johannesburg as well, which was terrifying at the time but a god send after.  It was sold to me as having a ‘slightly bigger seat’ for 189GBP (the terrifying part) but actually came with a few perks: a rest for your feet, nicer headphones, first class meal (see pic of the actually great meal they served).  Best decision ever after not having any sleep on the first flight.  It was a nice second leg in all that luxury, and I slept for about 6hr waking to the very first light of a lovely sunrise.  

Sunrise over Central Africa April 12, 2012

After landing I was in a daze for a bit. I got hit by a pretty bad cold, plus that lovely jet lag, which meant I slept for about 4 days straight.  I finally emerged from my hibernation to the most beautiful autumn I’ve ever seen: Wake up to sunny, clear blue skies, cold early but warming to a comfortable 18C; Beautiful fall colours are mixed with the bright greens and bold colours of winter flowering plants and trees; The odd shower happens, but it doesn’t last and clears to warmth again; the evenings are crisp and cool, with darkness descending on the city surprisingly quickly.  Stunning. Spent a lovely Easter Sunday having a brai (BBQ) with Pete’s family, hosted by his Aunt and Uncle.  Again, note the lovely weather and beautiful location.  I think we ate just about every type of meat available, which is understandable after coming off the Lent Fast.

Life has been pretty quiet, but it’s the perfect pace for learning to navigate a new city and country.  I use the term navigate loosely as I’ve yet to sit in the drivers seat.  It’s coming, so say a little prayer.  I’ve already started paying extra attention and asking questions about what white coloured lines mean ; depends if they are dotted or solid;, if you can turn right on a red – I mean LEFT - no you cannot, unless there’s a yield sign; and most importantly, how to tell if a cop is asking for a bribe and how to deal with it - everyone has their own tactics from low balling to outright refusal peppered with threats of reporting them… Not comfortable with any of these so I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Side Note: they are cracking down on bribes so it’s not as common as it once was.  

Climbing out of a Lamborghini (I think...)

We recently had the pleasure of attending a very nice event to mark the grand opening of a residential and business complex developed by Pete’s cousin’s father.  It was a great night with fantastic food, wine and also a few fancy cars you could pretend to own for minute.  We took a great (?) photo of me pretending to be famous.  There was a comedian who MCd the night, and was hilarious.  He made some pretty bold (racially charged) comments but pulled it off so well everyone in the room was in tears.  In one part he mentioned the signs the taxi drivers use, so they don’t have to stop and ask people where they want to go.  For those of you who aren’t familiar with Taxis in South Africa, they are basically VW like vans that shoot around the city driving like maniacs trying to pile as many people in their vehicles as they can to maximize each trips potential income.  You can get from Central Johannesburg to Soweto for about 5Rand, but I’m telling you, you take your life in your hands if you get inside.  Mostly it’s cheap transportation for the black population to get to the city from the townships and back again.  I’ll see if I can take a photo of one so you get the full picture, but in the meantime if you want to see one Google image ‘South African Taxi’.  Anyway, so they use hand signs to help determine where people want to go.  The comic show us a few destination signs and then showed us signs for ‘Woman’, ‘Place to Drink’ etc, so you could effectively leave there and sign that you want to find a woman and go to town.  I don’t know what I was thinking but I thought it would be a good talking point when speaking to a friends maid the following weekend. I guess I thought it would show how quickly I was absorbing the African culture, so I showed her the sign for woman, as in we are ‘Woman’.  She looked a bit shocked at first and then burst out laughing.  As most of you probably guessed and I somehow missed, I now understand that the sign we learned refers to a woman in a certain profession… not all women.  Every time she saw me after that she would laugh and give me the sign for woman.  She probably fondly remembers me as the Lady of the Night from Canada.

Days have been filled with coffees, lunches, seeing the city, and funny little scenarios that make life pretty enjoyable.  Overall it’s really not that different from any other metropolitan city – lots of drivers, malls, gyms, and everyone trying to make a buck.  The differences are small but poignant as you are met with both a staggering disparity between the rich and poor, and the meeting of what feels like a hundred cultures in a suburban sprawl.   

 Every stop light (or Robot as they call them here) there’s at least one or two people selling cheap goods like cell phone chargers, or ear muffs, and sometimes it’s a person begging for change who’s situation would make most of those asking for spare change in North America look like they’ve had a pretty good life.  I know that’s not the case, but there seems to be a huge difference between the poorest in North America and Africa, which caught me off guard and shouldn’t have. 

The city is filled with little signs of positivity.  It's more touching than you realize when you stumble upon a glimmer of hope or humor - substance in the midst of dirt and grim.  We went to a fantastic market in Central Johannesburg called Market on Main (marketonmain.co.za) showcasing Joburg designers, jewelers, clothing, leather, food, and most importantly mojitos. You walk in off a street that mixes old with new, dirt with shine, safe with the underlying feeling that it might not be 100% safe after dark.  Pete's cousin's cousins (Greeks ;) have a stall there with some amazing jewelery so it was great to see such a thriving market tied directly to family.  The lower floor was. all. food.  So amazing. You can have a drink and wander around sampling everything from bagels, crepes, salads, candies, cupcakes, meat rolls to vegan fare.  While walking back to the car we found a big chalk board on the street where kids (and kids at heart) can write what they want to do before they die.  There were some pretty funny responses that might not show up in the photo, but as I walked away I was struck by that phrase: Before I die... Takes on a much more somber meaning when you realize how many kids are living with HIV in SA (330,000 in 2009 according to avert.org), how many kids face extreme violence every day, and more simply put how many kids can't afford the luxury to be kids in South Africa.  It was interesting to see what was on this board: Before I die I want to: Visit The Moon, Play Like Messi, Love, Bee a Mommy, See Messi... Actually there were a LOT of references to Football...

Another situation that take you by surprise (initially) are things that put you on ‘African Time’. African Time seems to be very laid back from what I gather so far, and is not necessarily tied to race.  It’s a pace of life that allows for socializing while working – what looks like a team meeting is often just a gab session so you can go and interrupt if you need help; it allows for general confusion – a lot of staff don’t seems to know what they are talking about and you get misinformation all the time; it allows for disorganization – IE. going to a major grocery store and paying with a larger bill (the equivalent to 10GBP) and having to wait for change to be brought to the till.  This in particular bothered me at first.  It’s not the fact that they don’t have enough change that surprising, it’s the relaxed attitude that’s taken to getting you your change back. The interaction goes something like this: ‘Do you have smaller bill? I don’t have change’ then they wait for a few minutes looking around the store hoping that someone might appear with change. ‘Hey, psst *waves your 100R note at the cashier one till over* do you have change?’ They do not.  More waiting.  A few shrugs and hopeless looks later, the bag clerk, who has also been watching the helpless plight of her co-worker the whole time, finally pulls a little pouch out of her bra and hands us the change.  You can’t get frustrated watching it, because it doesn’t really do much besides raise your blood pressure.  But it is hard to hold your tongue and not make helpful suggestions like ‘Maybe pick up the phone and call your manager to bring you change?’  

Architecture in Johannesburg, a mix of contemporary and cultural

 These little things can certainly slow you down but it’s all part of the experience and life here.  Overall people have been lovely.  One of the great things I’ve come across is the small attention to detail when it comes to beverages.  If you want milk with your coffee they ask if you want cold or hot milk.  If your drink comes with a straw they leave the paper sleeve on the portion of the straw you drink from so nothing but your own lips touches the straw.  They bring you ice to put in your white wine (if that’s how you role) without having to be asked.  It’s a small thing that I’ve come to love. 

It’s only really gone wrong once – a restaurant in a small village called Clarens, about 3 hrs outside of Johannesburg.  I requested a Dirty Gin Martini.  It’s basically Gin and a hint of olive brine.  The bartender didn’t know how to make it so the server asked me to go to the bar.   I really appreciated that he asked instead of guessing so I sauntered up to the bar with pride, ready to explain how to make this classic beverage.

Martini Class 101: I told him that it involved 2 shots of gin and a small pour of olive juice.  He looked a bit confused and asked if it went in the glass.  ‘Ok,’ I thought, ‘let’s start more basic.’ ‘Do you have a martini glass?’ He got one down from the bar. ‘Martini shaker filled with ice?’ So far so good.  I instructed him to pour gin and olive juice in shaker, shake and pour in glass.  Pretty satisfied with my teaching skills I went back to the table.  After about 5 minutes I heard that magical sound of ice rattling in the martini shaker.  Then more shaking.  And more.  I think he shook that thing for about 10 minutes straight.  Finally the drink is placed before me and my jaw dropped.  I’ve included a picture so you can see the creative concoction he made.  The pink sugared rim is adorned with a lemon and olive, a crown on the sewer water in the glass below.  How awesome is that.  It was a small lesson that there is no such thing as too much detail when explaining how to make a drink. I wiped the rim as much as I could and was actually surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as it looked.  Thank goodness.