Hircine

hircine- (adj) of, pertaining to, or resembling a goat

This word has nothing (well, very little) to do with what follows, but it was in my inbox today and I was overjoyed. My longest-term dreams in life consist of raising goats. They’re friendly, inquisitive, mostly-good natured, and can make milk and wool. Is it still called wool if it comes from a goat, not a sheep? I imagine this word has negative connotations, but I like it anyway. 

I don’t have much to report; I had a fairly standard, mundane week in South Africa, as strange as that may sound. I went to classes, did homework, cooked food, went to the beach…what else does a student do?

On Monday, a classmate and I walked the nature trail that runs around the campus; we saw lots of bugs, grysbok, and a springbok prancing over the hills. The first grysbok we met was scared enough of  our voices and footsteps to run out of the bush towards us before it realized what direction we faced and then literally high-tailed it back into the shrubbery. We thought it was hilarious. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera. I read a great book called Zoo City and was accosted by a religious fanatic. On Tuesday I was free of classes, so I walked to the penguin rehabilitation center to turn in my volunteer paperwork, though they still haven’t called me. On Wednesday, I dissected a freshly killed frog, much to my personal dismay. Its poor little heart was beating and pumping blood until we removed it from the pericardial cavity even though it lacked a brain and a face. I think dissections are better learning tools than video simulations, but I think larger-than-live models are the best of all. The point of dissections are to learn how the body’s various systems work in unison, how organs fit together and connect. Models that you can touch, hold, take apart and put back together again are even better learning tools than dissections, in my experience. Comparative vertebrate anatomy is interesting but I really can’t wait for my ecology and conservation courses coming up. 

Thursday I received my locker for biochemistry and went to the beach. It alarms me how much trash is left behind. South Africa doesn’t have curbside pickup services for recycling, so I take a bag of our apartment’s recyclables to the gas station on the way to the beach and fill the bag up with trash on my way back. I never have enough room to pick up all the trash I find. A man who was fishing thanked me for cleaning up what little I did, saying he doesn’t often see people picking up the beach. I’m frustrated with the lack of responsibility. 

Friday I had a biochem practical and I made friends with a few South African girls. Saturday the University had a Campus Life Festival, which consisted of rugby, cricket, football, and volleyball matches as well as a societies exposition. I was not surprised at the number of Christian student groups but I was surprised at the complete lack of other religious associations. I’m under the impression that there are a fairly large number of Muslim students on campus but maybe they have groups at their mosques. 

Sunday was homework and beach. My watch battery died after seven (!) years and I took it apart, still haven’t found the right size replacement battery though. The ocean was incredibly wonderful, as per Port Elizabeth’s usual. 

I miss dandelions and pretzels, besides friends and family. The amount of people who smoke cigarettes or maybe just the behavior of people who smoke cigarettes is starting to irritate me. What difference does it make if one smokes in a smoking area if the wind is blowing straight across to the kraal (student quad)?  I don’t like the rule of no sitting on the floor in the library. It’s hard to curl up with a good book in a rigid plastic chair. I have only found one functional drinking fountain on campus and I’m pretty good at finding drinking fountains. My biochem professor said the municipal standards are adequate but not necessarily adequately enforced. He recommended a filter for anyone who wants to drink tap water as excess chlorine is the main safety concern. 

For not having much to say, I sure said a lot. Because I’m determined to use this word in an actual sentence, my isiXhosa class smelled particularly hircine today.

Want to learn how to say something in isiXhosa? Sure you do! When departing, two Xhosa people say “Hamba kakuhle, sobonana” which means “go well, see you soon.”

Hamba- say “ahm-ba”

kakuhle- say “kah-koo-HISS-ay,” where you hiss air out the sides of your mouth like Sid the Sloth from Ice Age

sobonana- say “so-bo-nah-nah”

In response, you say thanks, you too, which is “enkosi, nawe”

Hamba kakuhle.

Phrontistery

Phrontistery (n)- a place of higher learning

Phrontistery is one of my favorite words in the English language, next to Primordial soup (which I know isn’t one word, but it is an excellent sounding phrase, one I like even better than the infamous ‘cellar door’). 

My first week of South African phrontistery was an eye-opening experience with substantial insight into the foundation of South African culture. The relationship between teacher and student is most telling. Teachers, called lecturers whether an academic migrant or full professor, expect students to understand all information relevant to the course, whether the lecturer has provided that information or not. Lecturers are willing to help students, but reluctant to forgive their mistakes or provide second chances. It seems every opportunity is taken to embarrass an unsure or mistaken student in front of his or her peers. There is little allowance for mistakes but also little allowance for non-participation, as this indicates lack of intelligence. I think all this is a result of the combination of South Africa’s history and its staus today. Higher education is based upon the British system, where professors are demigods and students are expendable. However, South Africa as a developing nation means not everyone has access to higher education. Those that do are privileged and have to work hard to see their schooling through. It’s as if each student has to earn, or prove, their right to be there by being the best they can, if not the best in the class. Personally, I think similarly and I always try to do my best, but I’m somewhat unique amongst my American classmates. Here, I have already read and taken notes for next week’s lectures and I feel I’m falling behind compared to the South Africans. I had a tough week adjusting to a nutty scheduling system: biochemistry practicals will take place every second Thursday, zoology pracs will be every Thursday but every second Wednesday, lectures will start not when the timetable says they will, but when the lecturer decides they will, leading confused international students to think they have missed classes when they haven’t or miss classes when they think they’re right on time. The administration is highly unorganized and gives free reign to the lecturers to determine both class and exam timetables. 

There is a huge emphasis on passing the course, completing the degree program, and finding a well-paying job in a relatable field. My teachers speak of being marketable or in demand as a biochemist or zoologist when what I’m really searching for is information on protein folding or reptile skull morphology. Classes are only seven weeks, so the information is crammed in so students can take as many exams as they need to qualify in their respective fields. The university (which the German students call ‘Uni’ but which South Africans call ‘varsity’) is focused on preparing workers to be self-sufficient and to bolster Africa’s largest economy. All I want is information to better my understanding of the world and knowledge of how to preserve what I love. 

Perhaps it’s especially challenging because I am an outsider to the system. Apparently, everyone else understood the practical schedule and I should have realized my comprehension was flawed when I was the only one waiting in the hallway for class to begin. I receive weird looks when I ask for help or directions, but I think it’s more the accent that throws people off than my helpless ignorance.

I know that I’m here to grow and learn, that the challenges of deciphering a different system is one reason why I’m here, but I wish the international office would be more communicative with both students and lecturers. I felt largely unprepared to understand my own schedule; the timetables published online were incorrect and the administration can’t be bothered to fix them, so the lecturer’s word is law, but when the lecturer doesn’t explain how we change venues (rooms) in the middle of a session and becomes exasperated when international students ask irritating questions, it’s hard to know where to go. 

So, I missed a class. It was an accident, but I felt horrible. I felt helpless, enormously confused, and defeated by the diversity of culture and communication. I can’t figure out to prove to the health insurance company that I have paid my premium, the bricks here are all laid crooked so I keep tripping and hurting my knees and back, I had to wait in line for a total of three-and-a-half hours on three different days to get my ID card because only one man on one ancient computed makes cards for the entire student population. Ugh, what I am doing here, I thought. I should be in Humboldt, taking invertebrate zoo in Trinidad and keeping warm under blankets. Being here will grant me perspective on life in Northern California and an indication of how lucky I am, if nothing else. But I’m already more critical. I’m taking South Africa’s history into account of daily life so I can see what factors made things the way they are. I’m seeing how racist and intolerant people from supposedly civilized countries can be. I’m learning how to say ‘hello, how are you, I’m fine’ in isiXhosa (Molo, kunjani, ndiphilile enkosi). I’m learning about myself, about what it means to be independent, a foreigner, a scientist. I don’t mind being alone. I mind being lonely. I don’t want to drink or smoke or be around smokers even, which isolates me from all the other international students and most of the South Africans I have met so far. I learning what I like and what I don’t like, training myself gradually to be healthier, more accepting, more informed, and a little more social. 

Yesterday I went to get my ID card, went to the last ten minutes of the wrong class, went to all my right classes, walked home, was asked out by a man who said he wanted someone like me as a wife (I declined, politely), met my new roommate, went for a sunset walk in the rain, saw a South African rainbow over the Indian Ocean, came back, watched Isidingo (a ridiculous South African soap opera) and sat down to write.

Highlights of the week: dissecting a perch with my bare hands, wearing my first lab coat, using the South African postal system, understanding everything about genetics of biochemistry in my lecture, finding nine mermaid’s purses on the beach, a really interesting conversation about the degradation of communication with a young woman from Port Elizabeth, finding tortillas at the grocery store, and going to a St. Valentine’s day function in the townships. 

Today I went with my new roommate to SAMREC, the South African Marine Rehabilitation and Education Center. Their main focus is the African penguin and the occasional Cape Fur Seal that ends up stranded on the shores of Algoa Bay. A really nice woman took us on a tour of the facility, where we got to watch the rehabilitating penguins swimming and sunning themselves. The African penguin, formerly called the Jackass penguin (don’t ask me why), is incredibly endangered and is expected to become extinct in the next five years without the work of organizations like SAMREC. The penguins feed on fish that are brought by cold water currents that usually circulate off the coast of southern Africa, but apparently climate change in addition to overfishing has pushed the currents and the fish farther away. Adult penguins swim to catch fish for their helpless chicks, but the extra 30km of distance means the fish are already digested by the time the parents return and the chicks gradually starve. Furthermore, during molting, the composition of the feathers is altered such that the birds are not protected from the cold and cannot swim far nor stock up on body fat to sustain themselves. The construction of the harbor in Port Elizabeth has exposed the islands where the birds breed to oil, further reducing their chances of successful reproduction. It is estimated that only 21,000 breeding pairs of these penguins exist in the wild. 

I have applied to volunteer there, doing everything from leading tours, to scraping crates clean, to help feed and hydrate the birds. I’m quite excited for this opportunity.

Mendicant

Mendicant- (adj) begging or living on alms

Spending my afternoon combing the beach for seashells because I want to send a gift to my family because I’m halfway around the world to go to University to follow my passion because my parents support me and I don’t have to work to support myself, to scrounge for food, to fight for my rights as a human being. That’s wealth. I’m wealthy. And still I complain! about being away from home, about how hard it is to find the classes I want, about not making friends easily. I know that I’m lucky, but I had no idea how rottenly spoiled I am. How rottenly spoiled,  how self-centered and unjust is everyone who lives in ease and comfort, who worries about sports or fashion or having fun while fellow human beings suffer in squalor?

We went to the townships of Port Elizabeth on Wednesday. We stopped and walked around in New Brighton, a black township, to visit the Red Location museum and the Red Backpacker lodge. It’s called the Red Area because of the color of the rust of the metal sheeting that people use as walls and as roofs. These people, these astounding people. Little children, first and second graders, walking home from school on their own through the Tsotsi-riddled streets because their parents are forced to work all day long or because they don’t have parents, are waving, smiling, and laughing at us as we drive past in a colorful bus.

New Brighton

Xhosa mammas, who are considered unemployed, baking bread for the street children at a minimal profit but taking everything they make and devoting it to starting football clubs for the school children because the municipal, provincial, and national governments won’t make one for them. These women, who say to the spoiled foreign kids “I’m so happy you are here,” “Let me give you,” and “I can take care of you while you are away from home.” Smiling and laughing and singing in the face of hopelessness as they tell us of how they were treated in the past. And I’m complaining because the people I love are far away because we’re all following our dreams. I’m happy with my life conditions and I’m grateful both for what I have and for this little patch of perspective I have been given by the people of New Brighton. I feel ashamed, though, of what I’m doing with this life I have been given. I know all problems can’t be solved by one person. I’m satisfied with the issue I’ve selected; I think conservation of biodiversity is a problem of equal level with widespread poverty. Our biggest problems are indicative of the vast inequality that riddles the world. I just don’t understand how anyone aware of these problems can sit back, in gated homes with fancy cars and swimming pools and not feel ANY obligation to change the neighborhood, city, country, world that they live in and share with other humans. But we go back to fancy homes and ocean views. It’s embarrassing, disgraceful, and disheartening to see how quickly my fellow students can put their own meager needs ahead of a struggle for equality that has been raging in this country for hundreds of years. We are encouraged by the granting of civil rights across racial lines, but Apartheid is still present. The Coloured and African people have been economically suppressed/oppressed for so long that their rights are only improvements on paper and in spirit. No one has the means to move from their wooden and zinc sheeting shacks to a home in Summerstrand, to send their children to a school adequately equipped with teachers, books, and athletic equipment. No one has the means to be educated at a university to get a better job to move their family to a safe, healthy neighborhood. 

And yet the people sing. 

Mamma Lindi and me

Mamma Lindi invited me back next week to a St. Valentine’s day African jazz concert to feel what love means in Africa, in South Africa, in New Brighton. I want to go and be able to show her that she is inspiring, that she has changed my perspective on life and wealth in only a few moments of generous interaction, that people with material wealthy beyond hers want to help the African people escape from Apartheid’s reluctant tendril scars. 

I went to a conference on Friday about teaching young minds, especially students entering college, to think about their behavior and mindset to become more like Nelson Mandela. The workshop was long, dull, and failed to engage most of the students, but I thought there were larger problems than the program’s execution. We were bussed out to the NMMU campus in Missionvale, which happens to be in the townships. We drove past all the informal settlements, where no doubt some of the students have friends or family. We know they’re there, right outside the walls of the new campus, but for the duration of the entire workshop, no one says anything. Is not the reason why we admire Madiba so much his ability to put the needs of the many before the wants of the few? I think the world needs a workshop to think like Mandela as a whole. Thinking like individuals, albeit wise, caring individuals, still leaves the rest of the world looking for help.

I know townships are a part of South Africa’s history, but isn’t it time to put that history in the past? No one deserves to be forced to live without running water, solid walls, or proper schools and healthcare. This is why I wanted to come to South Africa- to learn new things and wrestle with the problems of today and tomorrow.

Anschauung

Anschauung (n)- direct intuition or perception of data with little or no rational interpretation. 

Being in Africa feels right. Apart from the satisfaction of merely being exposed to other parts of the world, the Anschauung, I think, is a result of returning to a pre-historical home. The oldest remains of humans have been found in South Africa dating back to ten million years. Evidence suggests that this place is all of our homes. 

This weekend, we experienced some of the wilder side of Africa by going to Tsitsikamma falls.

We were picked up in the morning and driven through the Eastern Cape, along the Garden Route, to Tsitsikamma Falls. Along the way, I saw a variety of biomes, from chaparral dotted with aloe plants to lush forests cascading down the mountainside. I saw birds of prey flying above, lots of cows, and even a few springbok grazing near the side of the road. The sky was cloudy and rain fell delicately, but ceaselessly. When we arrived at the Tsitsikamma camp at the head of the park, we had lunch and a lecture on the university by the head of the international program at NMMU. About one hundred international students were there; most were from the states but several were from Germany, Finland, Norway, Ireland, and the Netherlands. Of the Americans, there are a disproportionate amount from three nearby schools in Minnesota. Most of these stuck together in one large clump. The whole group takes the same classes together, which everyone else agrees limits their ability to learn about South Africans and branch out of their home environment. Also, the CSU students are the only ones staying for an entire year, which also makes our experience one that is more involved with the country and the people. 

Most of the orientation was unplanned activities, giving the students opportunities to meet each other. Everyone I talked to was nice and agreeable but no one particularly stood out as a close friend [yet].  There was African drumming, a braai (traditional Afrikaner barbeque), volleyball, wall climbing, and hikes. Ziplining over the waterfalls of the Kruiss river was amazing. I didn’t feel scared the way everyone else seemed to; the views were beautiful and the canyon we crossed felt like a pre-civilization work of natural art. The second day was hot and clear during the day, giving us all sunburns, but the night was clear and beautiful. I saw my first southern hemisphere stars. The place was so remote that even with the moon mostly full, I could see the Milky Way cascading through the sky. 

Tsitsikamma Falls. I don't know if you can see, but the cables in the photograph are what we ziplined with.

I’m having fun simply observing people as they live normally, from the Afrikaners to the Xhosa to the other study abroad students: what clothes they wear, how they walk, how they use their silverware. I noticed that nobody danced or even moved at all during the drumming lessons. I feel drums are such a call to movement, the way they reverberate in your sternum and resonate in your body walls. I couldn’t stand standing there while everyone had their arms crossed with nodding heads in time to the beat; I danced outside with all the bugs. I saw more kinds of moth than I knew existed, a spider as large as my palm, a gecko the length of an eraser, red-winged starlings, masked weavers, and lots of plants.  

I tried interesting African food, from Afrikaner Sarmies (sandwiches) to bobotie (pronounced boe-boe-tee), which is sweetened rice with a meaty stew on top. They served boerwoers (sausages) and many kinds of meat, but I chose not to partake. I know I might be acting in a culturally insensitive way, but I don’t know how I could place cultural observance over the moral worth of a life.  We drove back along the N2 and saw some of PE. In the afternoon, I went to the beach and dipped my toes in the Indian Ocean! The water is warmer and clearer than that of California and the sand is a lovely golden orange colour. 

Today, we had to wake up early for an orientation session at the University. My flat mate and some of her friends and I walked over, not knowing where we were going. It’s quite a thrill to be challenged with new surroundings and having to learn my way around a new place. The campus is amazingly beautiful, with so many different plants, courtyards, walkways, and interesting architecture. Everyone brags about how NMMU is the only university in the country to be situated on a nature reserve. After the orientation, I walked around the school to familiarize myself with the manifold paths and then walked to the shopping center. I purchased a no-frills phone which has become activated, but I have to buy airtime to actually use it to talk. Hopefully I’ll do that tomorrow. We had a welcome session at a café on campus with all the international students and I sat with a guy from Botswana and a PE local girl who were so friendly and interesting. I’ve noticed most of the people who came in groups are sticking together, which I think is really too bad. No, I don’t really know anyone here, but I’m meeting new people every day from places around the world. 

Vervet monkey on South Campus! There were a whole troop of mommas and babies.

I miss home, but I’m happy to be here. We register for classes tomorrow and I’m ecstatic.

Africa!

Africa - (n)                         -> a word yet to be defined

I am in Africa! I have been here an entire day already. 

My travels were long, but easy. I left San Francisco Monday afternoon feeling incredibly excited. As soon as I passed through security, I thought “I’m really going!” and stopped being so nervous. There weren’t very many people on my flight, so I had an entire row to myself to stretch out. The flight attendants were SO British and so manicured. I wrote, I read, I watched a movie, I gazed out the windows. I didn’t sleep at all, despite my efforts, but I saw a lovely sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean.  I saw Ireland (!) from the plane, albeit through patches of clouds. We landed in London early, at 10:30 or so. I went through immigration and customs, did a little dance for officially being in the UK, and purchased a ticket on the Heathrow Express train which transports passengers to London central in fifteen minutes. I tried to use the train’s Wi-Fi, but my computer wouldn’t have it and I figured my family would have to just assume I was fine. It has been interesting, being entirely disconnected from long-distance communication. I feel at ease, but ultimately more responsible for myself and more reassured in the orderly happenings of the world. I don’t know anything otherwise. 

The train arrived at Paddington station, which felt enormous. I can only imagine what King’s Cross must be like. It was quite literally freezing, I mean 0⁰ C, in London, which I didn’t quite know until I left the train. I brought a heavy jacket with me, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly. From there, I took the Underground to High Street Kensington, where I walked to a bus stop associated with a touring group. I was amazed at all the old architecture amidst a modern city. Victorian-era houses all pushed together sat atop H&M stores, Starbucks, cafés, and fashion boutiques, bordered by cobblestone sidewalks and the Kensington gardens. I’m sure the gardens are lovely in the summertime, but then, they just looked dead.  After ten minutes or so of waiting, the bus arrived, an open-top double-decker tourist vehicle. I sat on top in the open, refusing to be deterred of a good experience by a little snow and too little clothing. A tour-guide told us stories of London whilst we drove around the city. I saw Kensington, Hyde Park, the Marble Arch, the Natural History Museum, Piccadilly Circus, the American Embassy, Mayfair (where Audrey Hepburn lived), Trafalgar Square, St. Paul’s, Dickens’ hangouts, the Beatles’ pad, so many beautiful churches, Harrods’s (which the tour guide called Horrid’s), Baker Street, Madame Tussaud’s, the London Eye, the Tower of London, the London Bridge, the Tower bridge, the houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey. Plus more that I either don’t know the name of, or can’t remember. The only place I wanted to see that I didn’t was Downing Street. If I had all the time in the world, I would have liked to stop and see the insides of all these places. Maybe someday in the future, I will. I disembarked from the bus at Buckingham Palace. I was really freezing; I got a chill that I couldn’t shake until I arrived in 23⁰ C Johannesburg. Cold, tired, and rather hungry, I walked to the Victoria station and rode back to Paddington, then back to Heathrow. 

In all my five hours in London, I saw nothing reminiscent of either Harry Potter or Doctor Who. I was sorely disappointed. 

South Africa from above

I had fun watching the people going to South Africa who were waiting at the gate. I heard Afrikaans being spoken and looked at South African passports, eager for clues about my destination. The plane ride to Jo’burg was more cramped and included many screaming small children. I was so tired I feel asleep before we even started to taxi. By the time morning came, I was ready to be off the plane, no matter where we landed. I saw my first views of Africa through the clouds and thought “wow,” although it didn’t look particularly different from the undercast of any other land I’ve seen.

The Jo’burg airport was huge and empty. I was so excited to finally be here! I was grinning like an idiot the whole way through the terminal, attracting weird looks and confused smiles back. The accents are lovely; there are posters for wildlife safaris and the COP 17 conference that happened last month. 

I rechecked my bags (there’s a story for another time), went through security, and found my gate in the domestic terminal. I saw birds flying about outside and was probably too excited about my first view of African wildlife. It is metropolitan Johannesburg, hardly wild.  I heard a lady sneeze with a South African accent! I ran into Danielle and Maggie, two girls from San Francisco who are also studying here this year. Danielle and I were on the same flight to PE, so we sat and talked for a while about changing money, cell phones, and the weird food we’d had so far.  The flight to PE was only an hour and a half and included lovely scenery. The clouds thickened, but when they cleared, we were over the Indian Ocean. Imagine dark grey water illuminated with bolts of lightning as the plane windows are streaked with rain and the drops thunder a rataplan on the metal frame: so beautiful. When we arrived, it was raining, hot, and humid. The PE airport is right next to the Walmer township, which was an interesting thing to see as a first glimpse of Africa on the ground. I’m looking forward to learning more about it later.

A man named William was waiting at the airport with a sign; he took us on a brief tour of the neighborhood and then to the NMMU accommodation offices. We dragged our suitcases upstairs, through lines of hot and tired looking students, to an office where we signed our respective leases. Then, another man took us to where we would be staying. I am off of Admiralty road, which is kind of a main drag through the neighborhood of Summerstrand, where the main campuses of the university are. 

I have a lovely room in a lovely apartment that is owned and operated by a nice, older Afrikaans couple. They used to run a B&B, but since the man, Stephen, retired, they rent the rooms out to students. June, the woman, told me a little about the place and some of the ground rules, and then I unpacked. Everyone who saw me with my bags teased me about being a heavy traveler, but I think I brought just about what I need. I only have a few items that are redundant. 

I took a walk to the beach yesterday evening. Everyone here is so concerned with security. Every house has these huge gates accented with barbed wire or spikes. I have to use four keys to get from the street outside to my room. Stephen said a lot of the security concerns are due to the unruly behavior of the University students.  I saw African trees, African garden snails (which look just like the American ones), and African surfers on African beaches. To be honest, nothing is exceptionally different from the States; it’s just that it’s exciting because it’s African. Britney Spears and Adele are playing on the radio; there is a Curves and a Subway down the road. 

As I headed back, it started to rain again, warm and wet. By the time I got back to my apartment (fifteen minutes or so), I was soaked and happy.  

I woke up early today, ate trail mix for breakfast, and was driven to the shops by Stephen. I had a snafu getting in the car because I entirely forgot which side the driver’s seat is on. I tried to sit in the driver’s seat, and then was embarrassingly confused when Stephen and his other passenger started giving me looks. At the shops, I went into the grocery store, just to look at things. Here is what I noticed: not an abundance of produce, but lots of squash and mangoes; SO MUCH MEAT; frozen chicken livers; a few vegetarian frozen items; aisle signs in both Afrikaans and English (Koffie, Tee, und Buiscuits?); maid uniforms aimed at African women; British candies; lots of liquors and wines. Again nothing radically different, but different all the same. They don’t have Siracha here, but they sell lots of sweet chili sauces. They call pinto beans ‘sugar speckled beans.’ They don’t sell ketchup, but they serve chips with a sweetened marinara sauce, at least according to Danielle. 

I walked back with my purchases, watched a SABC soap opera (what better way to learn about the culture?), and saw some interesting commercials for HIV/AIDS prevention. I read, made tea, watched Doctor Who (thanks to Conrad), walked to the University to look around, checked out the bookstore, and got caught in the rain again. 

Tomorrow morning, I will be picked up and taken to Tsitsikamma Falls for an adventure/orientation weekend. I know there will be ziplining, a braai (Afrikaner-style barbeque), and African drumming lessons. I’ll write all about it when I return on Sunday night. 

I apologize for the incredibly long post. Let me know in the comments if you want to know anything else. I'm safe, I'm well, and I'm having fun. For now, goodbye from Africa!