Leaps of Faith

There's too many things I haven't done yet
There's too many sunsets
I haven't seen
You can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down
You would've thought by now
I'd have learned something

I made up my mind when I was a young girl
I've been given this one world
I won't worry it away
[...]
But surely something has got to, got to give
Cause I can't keep waiting to live" - Sara Bareilles lyrics


My last week in Cape Town went by much too fast! It was a rainy, cold one, which made the realization that I would be leaving soon even more acute and melancholic. I visited JWT to catch up with my ex-coworkers before leaving again, I tried to take photos, I went to some museums (District 6, the Jewish Museum, the Art Museum, etc) and generally tried to soak up the city I so enjoy! On Tuesday, Mel and I returned to the bar I wrote about in an earlier post, the one with the mind-blowing cocktail! Tuesdays are jazz nights and I cannot overstate how nice it was to sip a deliscious drink by a fireplace while listening to a great local jazz band above the hushed murmors of the other patrons. I was almost in a contentment coma.

One of the most memorable events of this week (and the trip as a whole) was my visit to Mzoli's, a well-known butchery and restaurant in a township on the outskirts of Cape Town. I was lucky enough to go there with some friends I had made working last summer, which presented an incredible opportunity for my naive, tourist self! No tourists venture into the townships alone and, since I have categorically refused to go on the township tours that I believe dehumanize the local population, I didn't really have a way to travel to that part of the outskirts. Luckily, this situation came up, and a very large group of us gathered to go there for lunch on my last Saturday! Needless to say, the atmosphere was hectic...cars parked everywhere, people dancing in the street, the tables at the outdoor eating area crowded with food and beer, music blasting from the corner and competing with the radios from cars along the street, and a very high concentration of people in a relatively small space. The energy was hectic but vibrant! Needless to say I was one of three white people anywhere within eyesight! The meat took a very long time to cook and came out in two large bowls, from which we each picked our favorite pieces with our hands, to be eaten with bread and sipped down with a bottle of South African beer! I don't think I have ever had such a communal eating experience!! I have to admit that the sensory experience was a tad overwhelming and I was acutely aware that some people found my presence there somewhat strange/confusing, but I was surrounded by friendly faces, loud laughter, and frantic dancing so, on the whole, I was happy!

Finally, the morning of my flight to NY (by way of Dubai, Milan, and London) I went sky diving with Ajay. I will pause to give you all a moment to re-read the previous sentence, since yes, we all know that I have a deadly fear of heights. (...) Now that we're back, YES, I did it!! For those of you who are not familiar with the story behind this idea, it started the summer of 2006 when, armed with little more than fierce determination, a nervous stomach, and a glint in my eye, I set out for Interlaken, Switzerland with the intention of conquering my fears. Cliche aside, that weekend, I ended up rafting (and swimming...and almost drowning) in Category 4 rapids and Canyoning, which essentially comprised a constant test of everything I was afraid of doing, from rapelling down a 50 foot rockface, to jumping into a waterfall 20 ft down, to swinging around a cliff by a harness. Long story, short, that weekend sparked a very genuine desire to question and challenge and search....how did I expect myself to extend my limits academically, professionally, intellectually, emotionally, if I always held back when it came to physical risk? In the end, that brief weekend did turn out to be revolutionary in that it (quite literally) plunged me far beyond my comfort zone..having survived, pushing myself beyond those boundaries would become progressively easier over the next three years. However, I have to admit that on that sunny and beautiful Sunday morning in Cape Town, I was still entirely vulnerable and unprepared. Three of us were jumping on this particular flight and I, for a mix of logical reasons and fear, had volunteered to go first. We loaded the tiny airplane and slowly, steadily ascended to 9,000 feet....we could see the whole of Table Mountain to one side and the expanse of the ocean stretching out before us on the other. Suddenly, I felt complete and total panic and quite seriously asked my tandem instuctor how much it would cost me if I just went for the scenic plane ride!!! (it's ok to laugh at this point) And then, my favorite moment of the day occurred. Forget the actual falling, forget the wonderful parachuting....all the adrenaline of those moments pales in comparison to the single instant in which I looked down, closed my eyes, and searched for some kind of inner voice to reassure me....when I looked up two seconds later, I was ready: no little airplane, no long fall to the ground, no shaky parachute was about to get in the way of me stepping up to the plate and overpowering my worst fear by sheer will. I moved myself over to the side of the airplane, hung my legs from the side and, without hesitation, fell forward. Go big or go home (or I guess in my case, go big and go home). And so yes, we jumped!! After the first three seconds, in which I must admit, I thought I was on the verge of cardiac arrest, my body settled into the pull of gravity, my hands relaxed and I stopped holding on to my own backpack for dear life (clearly this was not a rational strategy to begin with). About 7 minutes and some parachute tricks and spins later, we landed!! I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief even now!!! In the end, I have no plans of sky diving again in the near future, but I am even more assured that the things that frighten us are precisely those that should be faced. When do we learn as much as when we take a risk and step beyond the deliniations of our comfort zone??

Ajay and I caught a (cramped) ride with a random German and some loal South Africans and made our way back to the city, stopping in gorgeous Bloubergstrand (blue mounatin beach) for some lunch. Back at the apartment I showered, finished packing, said goodbye to the girls, and headed to the airport...with, I might add, a TWO day commute ahead of me!

Always be happy, never be satisfied

He who has a why can endure any how. - Nietzsche

Today, among other things, I bought several traditional African masks. I have been looking for some since I got here and was determined to not make the typical tourist mistakes I often see happening. I went to Green Market Square and met with a mask trader who was recommended to me my Mel, and, as it turns out, very correctly! Billy has been traveling all over Africa collecting used masks for over twenty years and, to be honest, I think he was glad to have a customer who actually asked questions and wanted to know the stories behind the masks, the meanings behind the carvings, etc. I talked to him for an hour and a half and, in the end, Billy gave me a big discount as a result! The three masks I bought are from the Xassian tribe of South Africa, which coincidentally is the tribe Mandela is originally from. They were being completely overlooked by most tourists, but I was immediately drawn to them because they seemed to be the most unique pieces at the market, in part because they have slightly different meanings (most masks are “protection” masks, whereas the ones I bought included a “joy” one and a “love” one)! So I am going home with authentic masks that are meant to protect me and bring me happiness!

And so, once again, just like last time, Cape Town has been a place of healing. Not that I came with any particular wounds or in search of a welcomed panacea – because I didn’t – but somehow, yet again, this city has surprised and inspired me. In part, my musings and thoughts have been fueled by the stunning natural beauty of this city, nestled in between the mountains and the ocean; in part, I guess, by what I can only describe as the strange openness of the people I have met here; and lastly, by the relaxed optimism I always feel here.

The people and the history here (which I do not mean to trivialize by stating so crassly) are absolutely faith-restoring. From the little stories of District 6 resettlement to rugby as a symbol of reunification after the end of apartheid, to children celebrating Nelson Mandela’s birthday all around the country on July 18th….it is a nation with a complicated past, but at the intersection of colonialism, apartheid, tribal heritage, several different languages and cultural groups, at THAT very intersection lies a nation that, despite many political and social problems, is moving ahead. It may be battling with the implementation of effective anti-HIV campaigns at the regional and local levels, but the documents dealing with this at the federal level are absolutely brilliant. The policies of Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) may have had several unintended and negative consequences, but the country is still moving forward on the ingenuity, creativity, and drive of ALL its youth, be they white, colored, or black. South Africa is complicated, and I have spent all my time here in a city that might not be entirely representative of the rest of the country (in fact, I know it is not), but coming to Cape Town cannot but give wary travelers a certain kind of warmth and reaffirmation, if not in the country’s future then at least in some kind of redemption and forgiveness.

I'm entertaining thoughts...

This weekend has been a whirlwind wrapped in a sensory delights wrapped in unforgettable memories!

We start our tale on Friday. I joined Mel (whose flat I am staying at) in attending Golda’s farewell at a club/bar/restaurant called Asoka. I had met Golda last summer and remembered her as one of those vibrant people I would love to have the opportunity to discover more about…coincidentally, the farewell was due to the fact that Golda is leaving to study opera at Julliard for two years, so I guess my wish for physical proximity has been granted! In any case, the atmosphere at this establishment was a tad “stuck-up Capetonian,” but the food constituted one of the best meals I have had in months and the cocktail both Mel and I drank was without a doubt, hands down, THE single most delicious alcoholic beverage either of us had ever consumed. So much so, in fact, that both of us became anti-social and could only talk to each other and, more importantly, about how incredible the drink was. The name is somewhat inappropriate so I will spare you that particular detail, but let me prick your senses with other details: the cocktail was frothy, pink, with Vanilla Vodka, some pomegranate infusion, and a mixture of other secret ingredients…on top floated half a fruit (somewhat like a pomegranate, but South African)…it came accompanied by a shot-glass of champagne. I am still reeling from this experience and plan to return before my stay here is over.

We move on to Saturday: Jenny, AJ, and I hiked up Table Mountain. Jenny is a bit of an intense hiker so in the end the trip was slightly more than I had bargained for, but every minute of pain and soreness was worth it for the views! We climbed up one side of the mountain, then into the valleys at the top, making a pretty big loop around the water reservoir in its middle, only to come back to the side where we started from and take the cable car down. In total, this entailed about five straight hours of constant walking, often climbing uphill on cliff faces and steep gorges. I have never hiked anything like this in my life and now, I must admit, I am somewhat hooked! After we descended, having spent an incredible morning overlooking the city, we drove to Camps Bay to have a late lunch sitting on the beach. Absolutely idyllic. And all of this on Mandela’s birthday! (Happy Birthday Madiba!!)

Sunday was a seeming contradiction in and of itself. We woke up early to go to a Chamber Music and Breakfast concert series at the famous Kristenbosch Botanical Gardens. The breakfast spread alone was impressive, and the music (piano + vocals) was nice…but participating in both these activities against the backdrop of the botanical gardens and the mountains was beyond description! Not to mention the fact that we were lucky and the day was warm and sunny! In the afternoon, we attended a TAC (Treatment Action Campaign) march demanding that the NSP targets regarding HIV and TB treatment and prevention be met. Several thousand people had been bussed in from the townships to participate in the march and the atmosphere was generally a very positive one, with plenty of singing and dancing going on even as we walked. TAC is one of the few truly grassroots organizations in probably the world – it is run and organized entirely at interconnected local and regional levels – and it has been incredibly effective in (a) creating a sense of personal and community responsibility for AIDS treatment and prevention, and (b) forcing the government to change some of its policies. The organization is relatively young (founded in 1998 I believe), but, for example, several years ago it sued the government because it was refusing to provide ART treatment to mothers in order to stop the (devastating and growing) problem of mother-to-infant transmission. They took on the AIDS-denialist government and won: the courts compelled the government to roll out a treatment plan to HIV-positive mothers. In-cre-di-ble. Of course they are criticized for some actions as an organization, but in general, it was an interesting experience to be a part of. I am going to try to do some fundraising for them (or at least their cause) when I return to the US.

In any case, after the march we went back to Jenny’s house to cook up a huge dish of pasta a la’arrabiatta, salad, and crepes for dessert! We sat on her stoop and ate whole looking at the night skyline of Cape Town!

All in all, what an amazing weekend! Once again, it made me feel like IF only the salaries here were better (and the exchange rate allowed me to pay my school loans in less than 50 years), I would move to this city with very little hesitation!

The story of the Girl and the Photograph

"Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection...the lovers, the dreamers, and me" - Kermit the Frog

Then began The Project (capital T, capital P, for humor). Suddenly, it seemed to me that the idea that I had myself written up and proposed several months ago was disarming; me, it’s own creator, the gall! In any case, faced with the prospect of actually speaking to complete strangers, convincing them to pose for me (and with each other) and then somehow making the already artificial situation at least a bit more organic, I could not help but become, well, panicked. It was a bit disconcerting walking around the streets of Cape Town, even the familiar ones, asking at random if people would let me photograph them; quite honestly, it was humbling in only the way that surprise life-lessons can be. I knew there could only be one feasible solution, which was to get over it and get on with it. And so, now my photography project is underway and I am more comfortable walking around with a lens.

It occurs to me that the camera’s role in my case is somewhat paradoxical: it brings me further away from my subject. Without the camera between us, my subjects and I are identical in that we are human, we thin and exist, and at this particular moment in our respective lives, we coincide in the same physical spot on this planet. However, as soon as the camera lens is raised to shield my face, it does just that – it separates, shields, creates a distinct contrast. In short, it defines, and in doing so, it limits. I become the photographer; they, my subjects. We each have distinct responsibilities and demands to/of each other (although yes, in this relationship my demands are greater) and those become concrete when I don my camera. In my role, I am no longer the same as the person I am photographing, our interactions are now limited by the simple fact that we are further away and that my camera has, quite literally, shed light onto this divide. Even if we talk, and even if that interaction is completely routine, my subject and I are still separated by the very instrument that is meant to bring me closer to them!

In any case, as I go about doing this project, it also occurs to me how oversimplified and somewhat impossible my proposal actually was. I came here with the intention of capturing a whole range of human emotion by asking strangers to pose together and my goal was to show some kind of shared humanity…but now I realize that the most I can hope for (and the most I have a right to show to an audience) is much simpler than that: it’s just people. At some point in this process I removed my goals and started just taking photos of strangers for the sake of putting two human beings in a single shot and finding some way of doing each of them justice in the resulting image. It seems alarmingly simple, but it is incredibly difficult; at least it has been, for me, to represent honestly and without affectation what two complete strangers might look like standing next to each other without stripping them of their individuality. Every once in a while, I take a photo that actually works, and those are the moments that have been worth it! Just yesterday, for example, I photographed Daniel and Edward. Daniel is a 23 year-old lanky skater who was skating with a group of friends by the Company Gardens and Edward is a toothless, homeless man who happened to be walking in the aforementioned Gardens. The first thing of notice about the photo is (and Barthes so handily defined this for us as the studium of a photograph) that there is a black poor person sitting next to an average looking white man; the cliché of bi-racial photos, especially in a country like South Africa, almost destroys the photo entirely by making it trivial and commonplace, predictable….but then (at least to my eye) you notice Edward and Daniel’s faces. The latter is almost entirely at ease…in some photographs, his hands rest loosely on his propped skateboard, in others, he is leaning back….but every once in a while (sometimes when he looks at the camera, sometimes when he looks away), there is a slight expression of uncertainty mixed with the serenity of his eyes. And then, there is Edward who sits, entirely erect, hands in lap, barely shifting at all the entire time, and whose face is contorted as if he were experiencing extreme pain. It is not a look of discomfort, or disgust, or confusion – it is a look of pain and protest. (I should mention that I talked to Edward during the entire process of taking a photograph and he assured me that he agreed to have this photograph taken). These two very different people are made interesting by their dramatically different emotional responses to their shared moment. In the end, they remain individuals even though I have subjected them to an artificial grouping; they are triumphant over my awkward project and, in being so, are the very reason the project is any good!! A bit ironic, yes, but a little irony never hurt anybody. That is (as Barthes would say) the punctum of those photographs for me, and that is the reason this project has been worth it.

Of Compliments and Other Tales

The first days of my trip I spent recuperating, which essentially translated to doing little more than eating, sleeping, and reading. Oh, and (not surprisingly) going to the gym. Here’s a story: the very first day of my stay in town, I marched into the gym across the street and demanded a one-month contract. Little did I know that they already offer such an option and there was no need for hostility and pleading on my part! In any case, as I have been a regular ever since, the staff thinks of me as the strange American girl who workout on holiday. Before I go on with the story, I should point out that the gym is one single very large room sectioned off into groups of machines (in addition to two special rooms that are separate and intended for classes); so, the point is: everyone works out in, technically, the same room. However, unbeknownst to me, there was an area of the room that apparently only men usually work out in; in fact, after I realized this, I started noticing that I only ever saw one woman working out in that half of the gym. In any case, I, completely oblivious as always, marched on over there every day to do my weights. It is on two such occasions that I had two (very funny) run-ins. The first time, my exercise was interrupted by a man who said, “I really admire your spirit,” to which my prompt response was, “What?” obviously thinking that he was using some kind of dirty metaphor and I was not about to let a stranger talk to me like that! He then explained himself, adding, “Your spirit. Women don’t usually come to this side, but it is a shame because there are a lot of good machines. It is good that you are here.” How strange; I was confused. Who says things like that to complete strangers?

About a week and a half later, another man also interrupted my exercise routine with the following phrase, “You work hard, like a man. That is good. Welcome to our side of the gym.” No introduction, no formalities, no other words. Again, my question is what could possibly be so remarkable about a woman exercising that would posses you to speak to her about it!? I have to admit I was a bit flattered despite my confusion and I was happy to add this to the arsenal of random anecdotes, to be pulled out exclusively at cocktail parties and awkward first-dates.

In any case, on to other topics! In terms of transportation, this trip I take the mini-bus taxis that I was afraid to take last time, resorting mostly to private cabs if necessary. I am often the single white person in these buses, but they are efficient and cheap so I’ve elected to face a bit of scrutiny to have a more authentic living experience. I am living by the University of Cape Town area (called Rondebosh) which is a ride away from town…as a result, transportation is a key issue for me, and a new one since I walked to work every day last year (I lived in a hostel across the street).

Speaking of work, visiting the agency where I interned last summer has been heart-warming, and as a result, I go back almost daily. First, to be welcomed back with excitement and not just remembered as a passing intern has been a welcome surprise (it is always nice when people are as excited to see you as you are to see them, right?) and reconnecting with people whose company I truly enjoy has been priceless. I’ve gone to dinner several times with ex-co-workers, I’ve gone out (or rather, stayed in, as the agency has an in-house bar) to dance and catch-up. It has reminded me once again how much I really do feel at home in Cape Town’s relaxed energy, even though I am clearly a foreigner and have only been here once before. This city and the people who inhabit have an amazing spirit, amazing in part because they leave it so open for others to observe, feel, and join in.

I must remark that, oddly enough, I find myself eating a lot of burgers on this trip. I remember that I also did so last year. I’m not sure why I eat so many more burgers in South Africa of all places than in the proper (said in a snooty British accent) US but they’re delicious so don’t try to dissuade me by calling on my patriotism! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

On a last note, I had the strange luck the other day of walking by what turned out to be a mass demonstration. The workers for the 2010 World Cup have been striking for several months now demanding higher wages and on this particular day, they had taken to the streets (in a very organized fashion, I should note) to announce so. I stood on the side of the street, huddling with two cab drivers under the umbrella they very generously shared with me (it was pouring) and watched the throngs of people who chanting by. Aside from whether or not I agree with their demands or not, the march was interesting because it was a testament to how much the imminent World Cup is affecting South African society and in some ways changing it. What a strange shared moment among the three of us.

Hello, Cape Town, I've missed you!

Although I’ve traveled far, I always hold a place for you in my heart – Tracy Chapman, “The Promise”

After a 21-hour commute that included a layover in Dubai, I finally arrived in Cape Town. Lisa, a co-worker from last year, was kind enough to offer to pick me up, probably not realizing how touching it was to see a friendly face in foreign country, especially after a day’s worth of traveling! As a tangent, I have to point out that Emirates flight attendants are frighteningly uniform: all the details of their outfits are not only perfectly placed, they are identical to everyone else’s, including the elastics that bind the women’s buns!! Lisa and I drove to town, met up with the girl (Andrea) who had the keys to the apartment I will be staying in, and I began settling in.

First, let me say that to be able to unpack everything fully, do laundry, and go to sleep in the same bed I foresee sleeping in for more than a week was…simply…in-cre-di-ble. It sounds pretty trite, I know, and I fully realize that those are purely material luxuries, but I have to admit I felt a warm sense of relief and comfort come over me. Later that evening I walked to the grocery store to stock up on food for the week and I must have seemed somewhat idiotic to the other pedestrians because I was smiling. The air in Cape Town was chilly (it is, after all, winter in this hemisphere), but it also had the distinct smell of bonfires and cold rain; it smelled a bit like Russia and a bit like, well, the Cape Town I remembered from last summer. The stunning mountains I see from my room’s window, the friendliness of the grocery store cashiers, the random shady characters loitering on street corners and walking up too close to you to test your fear response – all the technically good, technically bad, and ever-surprising elements of this city subtly happened all around me…not yelling to be observed, like Italy’s essence sometimes does, especially in the very touristy areas, but simply existing. The fabric of life here amazed me even last summer, how it did not change by my presence but simply shifted a bit to include me in it. The people here remain the most open, amiable, and welcoming I have encountered in all my travels.

I took several days to settle in, sleep, rest, and read. I visited old JWT co-workers on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday – funny how I felt completely at ease and at home. Certain things had changed and all of us had changed as individuals, of course, but on the whole, so much remained unchanged…

Why not? (aka Cinque Terre!)

“Just be here now, forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin. Let me throw one more dice, I k now that I can win, I’m waiting for my real life to begin” – lyrics from “Any Minute Now”

Friday morning at 7am I met up with Kathryn and Parker at the Florence train station and we headed to Lucca, a small city relatively close to Florence. It is enclosed by a massive surrounding wall built in the 1500s and is, in general, a normal, non-tourist infested Italian town. After finding our hostel and dealing with some unexpected issues we encountered along the way, we made our way to Viareggio. This was an interesting mix between Europe and Key West, at least to my taste, as it is a beachside town full of traveling Italians on vacation. All of us were tired, so to save you anymore of my rambling: we plopped down on the beach and stayed there for several hours. Earlier that day, we had befriended a retired US Navy something-or-other (we did not know his rank) who was originally from Boston but who had moved to Viareggio some time ago…he gave us detailed instructions on how to get to the beach and even walked us part of the way there!! At the beach, I also befriended a lifeguard named (wait for it) Yuri…turns out he was a Ukranian immigrant who has been studying in Italy for several years and works as a lifeguard during the summer!

Somewhat reluctant to leave the wonderful view (especially since it was my first time bathing in the Mediterranean!), we made our way back to the train station and then to Pisa, where we visited the leaning tower and had a delicious dinner before heading, exhausted, back to Lucca to sleep.

Saturday was, without question, one of the most memorable days of my month in Italy. Kat, Parker, and I met up with my friend Travis and trekked Cinque Terre. For those of you who have been there, I don’t even need to explain…I am sure you are gasping in recognition already. For those of you who haven’t, Cinque Terre is a national park with a series of paths that link five villages together over cliffs, terraces, and coastlines. Needless to say, the views are nothing if not spectacular. The natural beauty here is almost entirely untouched, and to walk through the Mediterranean bush and see such stunning oceans, vineyard terraces, and small, colorful towns perched on cliff sides…it leaves one a bit speechless. The hike is pretty long (almost 6 miles), but with the inclination of some parts and the general summer heat and resulting malaise, it feels somewhat longer!

Along the way from Corniglia (the 3^rd town) and Vernazza (the fourth town), we paused at a small bar/café in the middle of the path, the first of its kind we had seen on our hike. I ordered a glass of local white wine and a slice of homemade blueberry pie and, perched by the window, silently looked out onto the crashing waves below us, the cliffs jetting out into the currents, and the first three towns painting the coastline we had already walked with their yellow, orange houses. (Sigh)

We had dinner by the ocean in the fourth town, took a train to the fifth town because we were pressed for time, and actually bathed in the ocean, cold as it was! Afterwards, beat from a day of walking, we took our respective trains back and found our way to our hostel. This night we stayed in Pisa which, I have to admit, was an incredibly charming town, despite the tourists who flock directly from the train station to the leaning tower. We came across couples sitting on the embankment, a lively jazz band playing in the street by a restaurant, and vibrant and fun Saturday-night going-ons on our way to the hostel. I’m pretty sure all three of us regretted not having an extra night there.

The next morning, I said goodbye and caught a 7am train to Florence, followed by a high-speed train back to Milan. I must say that meeting up with Kathryn, even if for only two days, was one of my favorite elements of this trip, not even so much because it was exotic to meet up in a random European location, but because we managed to plan and meet up despite the distance, the time, and the quotidian improbabilities of life! It was both refreshing and reaffirming to find mid-way points between Boston and Munich!

In Milan, I had lunch at my host family’s apartment, showered, unpacked and repacked my suitcases, and headed out to the airport. On the one-hour bus ride from Milano Centrale to the airport, it started to rain, a light drizzle that slowly turned the pavement black and covered my window with shifting diagonal droplets. It fell even though the sun was still out and I couldn’t help but smile. Rain through sunshine is like laughter through tears – possibly all the more organic because it encompasses two opposites simultaneously. And so, Goodbye Italy!