David's adventures: Part II

After a number of rich experiences (including several typical David misadventures), I moved on from the Wild Coast, eager to arrive in Durban, a major milestone I had been anticipating since beginning this trip (and in another sense, since I first began to learn about South Africa). As the 3rd largest city in South Africa, I hadn’t seen anything remotely like Durban since I left Cape Town, and yet Cape Town is nothing like this city. Durban bustles, with Indian influences rubbing shoulders with Zulu culture and Xhosa influences, all on top of crumbling British colonial architecture lined with palm trees and creeping vines. The Golden Mile Beachfront and Sun Coast Casino are kitsch as hell, like a theme park version of Miami Beach’s Art Deco style. I was told crocodiles live in the river that cuts through the city, and to avoid Mahatma Gandhi Road at all times- especially after dark. I went on a tour of the city’s sprawling Berea market- a vast accumulation of market spaces winding under, above, within, beside, and between the tracks and highway overpasses of the Berea transport interchange. This was a place where you could buy Indian spices by the kilo, eat cooked meat off a cow’s face, buy bags of muti(traditional medicines), marvel at dried animal carcasses and skulls, buy pirated DVDs of children’s shows, bushels of dried herbs (imphepho) to burn in ceremonies, and just about anything else one could want. It was sunny and beautiful at the beach on Saturday (and I watched a bunch of fully dressed Zulu women roll around in the surf, it must have been a religious thing), the aquarium was stocked with ridiculous looking fish, morays, and ferocious crabs (Japanese Spider Crab, anyone?), and the food, Indian and otherwise, was damn good. I can’t wait to go back.

Herb/Muti Market, Durban (Sourced from internet)

Totally convincing smile as I prepare to descend a 25m chain ladder
off a sheer cliff face while wearing size 14 US hiking boots
that are too big for me to consistently fit my feet onto each ladder rung.

I left Durban after a week and headed to Pietermaritzburg, where I took a typically crowded minibus taxi to a town called Underberg, not far from the Drakensberg Mountains and the Sani Pass. From here I took a 4x4 trip up the Sani Pass into Lesotho, the highest country in the world, and also one of the poorest. This trip was by turns beautiful, surprising, and humbling. Also, the hike we undertook to Hodgson’s Peak South (AKA the Giant’s Cup), at an elevation of over 3,200 meters, was my first experience in high-altitude hiking. The highlands of Lesotho and the Drakensberg put the Appalachian to shame. I spent the next few days in the Berg as well, gradually heading north towards the Amphitheatre, stopping to hike and see San rock art, beautifully preserved for as many as 5,000 years. From a backpackers in the Northern Drakensberg we hiked along the top of the Ampitheatre and visited the top of Tugela falls, the 2nd highest waterfall in the world. We also descended down a sheer cliff face on a series of ladders that were over 100 feet long, one of the tensest experiences of my life. I also visited Lesotho again, this time the northeast of the country, and spent a day exploring Royal Natal Park.

Visiting a village in Eastern Lesotho, near the Sani Pass

From the Drakensberg, it was only a short jaunt to Johannesburg, the big city at the end of my journey. Johannesburg has reputation in spades, more so than any other African city I can name. It took a few days, but once I got used to Jozi and got over my fears, I was seeing silver linings all over and feeling the vibe that infuses this city. If Durban makes Cape Town look like a European outpost, Joburg makes Cape Town look like a playground.  After a night or two my traveling mate and I decided to relocate from the staid northern suburbs to the heart of dangerous, deadly, downtown Jozi; we ended up in a hilariously sketchy hostel in Braamfontein, an emerging area within Joburg’s CBD. While in Joburg I revisited the Apartheid Museum and Constitution Hill, and found even more to savor and discover in these rich historical sites. I took a daytrip to Pretoria and discovered the inspirational Freedom Park museum complex, and then trekked up the largest hill in town to visit the imposing and intimidating Voortrekker Monument. My other favorite experiences in Joburg included a visit to the Origins Centre museum at Wits University, and an adventure into the depths of Johannesburg’s massive Park Station as my traveling companion sought to find a guy about a minibus taxi to Zimbabwe. Ever get that uneasy sense that you’re being looked at? You should try visiting the Johannesburg minibus taxi ranks (sarcasm).

A view of Johannesburg, City of Gold, from Carlton Centre.

The end of my trip came surprisingly fast. I was able to find a dirt-cheap rate for a flight back to Cape Town, and booked it only 1 day in advance. Like that, I had my ticket “home”. I had entertained ideas about traveling beyond South Africa to Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Botswana or Namibia, but my visa problems wouldn’t allow this. And the fact of the matter is, that although I had taken over five weeks to make this journey, there were still many places I passed up on visiting, entire areas I had not yet been able to explore within South Africa, and that a trip out to South Africa’s neighboring countries would require time, resources, and money that I simply didn’t have to do the right way. And so, my trip came to an end. It amazed me how it only took a two-hour plan ride to return me to the place I had spent five weeks traveling from. I returned to a Cape Town that was very differently from the one I had left, not just because of the passing of seasons and the changing of people, but because of how I myself had changed, and how my perceptions had changed.

Cape Town has been my home for the past two and a half weeks, and it will be my home until I return to the states, possibly in as few as ten or so days. It seems strange that such a long journey is coming to an end now. This trip, my entire experience in South Africa has completely and thoroughly trumped and tricked my expectations at all stages. This is what the future holds in spades, and I look forward to it excitedly.

David's post study abroad experiences

Catching up with David

Part 1

Hello everyone! It’s been almost two months now since UConn in Cape Town 2014 ended. Already I find it difficult to look back on the experiences I’ve had since that time, because I feel like I’ve moved through so many phases of feeling and thought. As I sit writing this in a café on Main Road in Sea Point, watching people pass by on a early winter day in Cape Town, I feel so far removed from the David who wandered in a surreal daze around the eerily quiet and empty interior of the house, minutes after my peers had all packed into vans and left for the airport.  In that moment, I was overcome by these thoughts: It’s over. UConn in Cape Town 2014 is over. Now something else begins. How am I going to finish packing? I am not prepared. What am I doing? It’s so quiet. Where do I start? I should jump in the pool! It’s too cold. And the house is empty.

That afternoon was so strange. As Ben and Liz went through the house with Diane and Harry and did inventory and surveyed the damages, I called my sister and talked to her on the phone for the first time since I left Connecticut. I packed away almost all my belongings into two large suitcases and stored them in Liz’s room, leaving behind only a tiny pile of supplies and clothing that filled my traveling backpack. I wandered upstairs and was caught by the sight of a gorgeous sunset, my last in Cape Town for now, but not ever. Sarah and Ben joined me on the roof patio, and I took a moment to register the feeling of change, of one thing ending and another beginning. And with that, I tossed my things in the car and we left.

The next morning I left on an open-ended backpacking trip across the vastness of South Africa. I had never embarked on anything remotely like this before, and my anxiety and nervousness in the days leading up to that first day were testament to my inexperience. Did I have everything that I needed? Was I adequately prepared with back-up plans and resources should I run into trouble? How will I communicate? How will I arrange travel off the beaten path? How will I manage to procure the necessary supplies and food for a multi-day hiking trip when my bag was already stuffed beyond capacity? Will I meet people? Will I be able to be outgoing enough? Every one of these questions resolved themselves along the way, and I ended up having a phenomenal experience traveling. Despite my passion for exploration and well-established pattern of risk-disregarding decision-making that I practiced in Cape Town, I never found myself in a situation where the challenges of the moment or the environment exceeded my ability to handle them confidently, to a greater or lesser degree. This is not to fail to mention that I (in most cases) judiciously took decisions to not place myself in high-risk situations, or that in many cases I was helped or saved by the kindness of strangers.

But back to the meat of the action: my trip! I left Cape Town and traveled along the Garden Route, visiting Wilderness, Knysna, Plettenberg Bay, The Crags, and Storm’s River. I found beautiful nature and verdant, rocky coastline in Wilderness; high-class living and working-class hardscrabble on a placid lagoon in Knysna; stunning views and cosmopolitan vibes in Plettenberg Bay; and monkeys, hippies and vast lightning storms that stretched across the sky in The Crags. From Tsitsitkamma National Park in Storm’s River I embarked on the 5-day Otter Trail hike, one of the top backpacking trips in South Africa. I spent days trekking along rugged coastline fringed with massive rocks and huge crashing waves, across river mouths and through native forests and fields, sighting baboons and birds and otters and more, passing waterfalls, caves, and freezing mountain pools, and watching the sun rise over the vast and Indian Ocean, here at the foot of Africa. I felt a powerful sense of accomplishment for completing this hike, for reasons that extend far beyond the significance of the physical accomplishment.

After nearly two weeks on the Garden Route (despite my sense that the time sped by), I felt the drive to move on to new things. 30 hours after completing the Otter Trail, I arrived in Port Elizabeth. The best thing I can say about Port Elizabeth is that there was a Nandos within walking distance of my backpackers, and it was open when I arrived at 10:45pm. This is not an insignificant compliment, as I was in withdrawal. Port Elizabeth also marked the first and only time I did laundry on this 5+ week trip, and just at the two week mark as well. Granted, I had just hiked for five days in those clothes, so they were essentially toxic.

I left Port Elizabeth and began the journey into the rural Eastern Cape, into the area of the country that used to be called the Transkei. I had commented in a status update upon leaving the Garden Route that I was ready to find something a little more “African”, but I had no idea how right I was. This part of the country remains very rural and often very poor, with little economic activity, poor services, and measly infrastructure. The Transkei remains the homeland (used here not in the politically charged Apartheid sense, if possible) of the Xhosa people, and it is here that they live according to traditional cultural practices. It was in this part of the country, while visiting the coastal communities of Cintsa, Nqileni (Bulungula), and Coffee Bay, that I had my most rewarding and fulfilling experiences while traveling. I could write an entire blog post on my experiences at Bulungula, a community-owned lodge in one of the most rural, isolated, and impoverished municipalities in the whole of South Africa. Suffice it to say, my experience there was more than just a vacation- but rather an opportunity to gain insight into traditional culture, to be the recipient of Xhosa hospitality, to meet and interact with members of a tight-knit community, to marvel at the village’s successes, to appreciate their challenges, and to go to bed each night feeling challenged, humbled, uncertain, and grateful.

May 14th, 2014. Walking over hills in Nqileni Village, Eastern Cape

Snigdha left with emotions to be felt rather than words to be spoken

I know this quote is directed towards Augustus Waters but ….

Dear Cape Town, 

“I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me forever within the numbered days, and I am grateful.”
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It’s been a little over a month now and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Cape Town. Whether it’s the people I’ve met, the places I’ve gone, or the experiences I’ve had I am constantly thinking about my time there. Being home is exactly how I expected it to be: the same. Nothing has changed. My room, my house, my family, my life all remain exactly how I left.  But I’m not exactly how I left. I don’t know how to describe it but I feel I’ve been put back in an unbreakable bubble.  Like a bubble, I can see through the transparency enough to know that there is so much out in the world to be discovered but I can’t pop the edges. These edges consist of my responsibilities including work, school, and my family.  However, I do like being home because I appreciate my experience in Cape Town so much more. I see things in my tiny suburban town that I probably would not have noticed had I not gone to Cape Town. Like the other day I walked into our local McDonald's and I noticed that I was the only person of color in the restaurant. It’s not like it bothered me or anything—I’ve been used to being the only non-white person in the room my whole life but I just realized that there is meaning in this.  It matters that I’m the only person, and it’s something that I care about now and pay attention to. One of my close friends recently posted an article on Facebook from that Princeton kid who—you know the really messed up article white privilege. Before, I would never have commented on it but this time I commented on the link and tried to explain to my friend what white privilege means. Because these things matter to me now. I just started an internship where I am the only person of color in the office and the warehouse. I am one of 4 women in the office. I guess it’s just shocking to be back in such a homogenous society where in Cape Town my job had me working with people of all different backgrounds. Let me tell you, selling trade show exhibits is nothing like working with refugees. Don’t get me wrong, I love my new internship and the people I work with but it’s hard to watch companies spend $20,000 on an advertisement for one event when I struggled to get refugees approved for a $200 rent payment. 

Being home is depressing. What do you mean I can’t go to the beach whenever I want to? What do you mean I can’t eat out every night? What is this ‘money’ you speak of? Wait, we have grades for the semester? Real life punches you in the face at the worst possible time. That’s the worst part about it. I don’t feel like Cape Town was ‘real life’. I feel like it was a fantasy land because I didn’t have a care in the world. My course load was light, my internship was my passion, and every day I discovered something new. It was because I was doing something new every day that things were exciting and refreshing. Now it’s just awful. But now I’m in a rut. I think in a way I’ve been in a rut for the past 18 years because I always knew what the next day held. In Cape Town I was going to unknown places, meeting people, and trying new foods, so I could never really anticipate how the day would go.  Now that I’m back home I’m watching videos of a South African comedian named Trevor Noah (shout out to Katrina) and it seems like his videos are the closest I’ll ever get to South Africa again. His accents, his imitations, his talk of Checkers and Xhosa women all remind me of my 3 months. When people ask me about Cape Town I don’t respond with anything more than ‘it was amazing’ because when they ask about South Africa they are asking about my life. How do you sum up your life into a couple of words? You don’t. Because you don’t want to have to put it in words. You want it to remain an indescribable experience that left you with emotions to be felt rather than words to be spoken.

Sarah on the many things she has to smile about

Courtney, Sarah, & Vernon at the Supervisor Thank You Dinner April 2014

It's been almost three weeks since I flew into JFK. I said goodbye to the friend I met on the plane, breezed through customs with absolutely no line, and then met my mom and BriBri happily. After a two-hour drive home I showered quickly, grabbed a notebook and rushed up to Storrs (suddenly on the opposite side of the road) . . . time for class. 

I'd grabbed a coffee in an attempt to ward off the impending doom of jetlag. Though I managed to stay awake, I sat there a bit dazed and confused. Are those derivatives?? Is this calculus?!? I panicked a little. I hadn't done math for a class in two years! And our first of three exams was in two days. Never mind that I landed less than six hours ago (poor planning on my part). I walked back to my car to be greeted by a parking ticket. Welcome home, I told myself, laughing. 

As expected, the class was a bit hectic and I spent a fortune in gas money for the three-hour round trip five days a week. Thankfully, the driving time was peaceful and the busyness was routine. The commute gave me time to catch up on all the new radio hits and more importantly, plenty of alone time to reflect. And landing into a lull after the buzz of elections would have made any adjustments more challenging.

An aside on elections . . . I feel so blessed to have been able to extend my stay in Cape Town. That couldn’t have happened without the care and enthusiasm of those at the IEC, who checked in on the status of my Visa paperwork daily, or the willingness of program staff to answer my questions and spend time at (multiple) Home Affairs. And the elections were certainly exciting! I spent Election Day recording hundreds of political queries and reporting them to the Operations Team, surrounded by the buzz of media personnel, political representatives, and security staff. And spent the eve of Election Day at the results center, so impressed by the dedication exuded by the team of staff, most of whom worked for over 24 hours straight and in certain cases, about 48 hours without seeing their home or family or bed. I feel both humbled and honored to have been a very small part of such a large historical event. It was inspiring to see all of the IEC’s hard work over the last four month finally fall into place. And in typical fashion, I could not have been received with more hospitality, welcomed in the live broadcast of the opening of the results center by the head of the Western Cape. Later, I was privileged to travel with members of the American, English, French, Russian, and Japanese consulate personnel on an Election Day Tour sponsored by the Communications Team. 

On the road I met a 109 year-old women who felt strongly enough to spend the energy to cast her vote. I saw queues of South Africans, willing to wait to exercise their rights. And perhaps most importantly, the extra two-weeks of my stay allowed me to spend more time with the friends I’d come to know and love through work at the IEC. I will never be able to thank the staff enough: for the stories they shared, the lessons they both knowingly and unknowing taught me through action and conversation, the warm memories I will forever cherish, and the recording of my stay in dozens and dozens of photographs I carried back back with me across the Atlantic. I was received into several homes where I got the chance to meet the families of a few of my wonderful colleagues. I spent my last night in Cape Town relaxing under a gorgeous sunset in a vineyard quarry, listening to Freshly Ground live one last time. I couldn’t have asked for a better stay or goodbye to Cape Town.

It’s strange being gone from a place for four months and returning where very little has changed. Where work procedures are no different. Where my bedroom looks exactly like I left it …during packing (what a disaster!).  It’s a comforting yet odd phenomenon. Because I feel like there's a part of me missing. I want to drive down my favorite street in Westbrook and end up by the Rondebosch Commons. Or jump on the Metro North and hop out at Kalk Bay. Or stroll into the IEC office any one morning. It all feels so close still, so fresh. And yet its miles and miles across the ocean. How I want to merge both places I love without touching the imperfect perfection of either.

I wrote not long ago that my Cape Town experience was very much about firsts. But since I've been back, I've realized many of those firsts were within reach all along. Routine and familiarity–the expectedness of both–possesses potential to be blinding. To ease my drive to Storrs, I've been offered four places to stay. I've discovered a few outdoor concert venues since returning. I've been hugged, greeted by tears of joy, and cared for by all my friends and family in wonderful ways. And though there's nothing quite like standing below Table Mountain, dwarfed by the presence of something so grand, I've taken the Connecticut shoreline for granted all these years. There's nothing quite like driving down a small town road either–sunlight dancing through the full canopy of leaves overhead, across the winds and bends, country music up, windows down. It's beautiful in its own right. And when I take the time to look, a sunset over Long Island Sound or even Messerschmidt's Pond is still pretty amazing. I've gladly realized that though unique in Cape Town hospitality, adventures, and scenic views might be closer than I previously imagined. 

Since leaving Cape Town, I noticed I feel more comfortable discussing my opinions, even when they differ. I'm much more interested in the daily news, global occurrences, and life outside of the little bubble I previously surrounded myself in, better known as college textbooks. And my emotions surface more quickly. Prior to leaving for Cape Town, I'm embarrassed to admit the only movie I ever cried watching was "Ted" (yes, because I thought the teddy bear died). Now sometimes, I tear up just thinking about things. I bubble into anger over topics I never thought I could care so much about. And I most definitely laugh more easily. 

I'd always wanted to travel the world, to make it to every continent, to see riches and ruins and history and foods and cultures. And I still do, but differently now. The idea of visiting different places, of standing here and climbing there or seeing this and hearing that, offers so much less me to me now. Instead, I want to experience and to live in different places - to be a participant rather than a spectator. I want to come to know the heart of the people, the habits of the street corner vendors, and the nuances of daily life rather than sightsee alone. For me, my focus on travel has shifted from quantity to quality overnight.

And for some reason I'm unsure of how to explain, I know that no matter where I go or what I do or how I age, part of me will always miss Cape Town. And not the physicality so much as the entire, unique experience. Martia found a quotation that sums this up better than I ever could:

"You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave place. Like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place because you'll never be this way ever again" (Azar Nasifi).  A little piece of my heart, my home, and my self will always be in Cape Town, summer 2014 . . . no matter how illogical or emotional that may sound. 

If anything, my Cape Town experience has made me value time. If four months abroad could offer so much, a great deal can be accomplished in just a short while. If I could build lasting friendships, go on memorable adventures, and learn in ways that alter perspective, then there's a lot to do! I plan to make the most of my time here. And it's already been about a month! I hope to make this summer a productive and memorable one.  As for the fall semester, I have an internship and UConn Community Outreach position lined up, both of which I'm thrilled about. I hope they’ll offer me space to employ lessons I learned in Cape Town. 

In the same breath, there's no denying that I miss it. I never thought I'd miss waking up to the buzz of dishes, voices, and showers in the pool house. But I do, immensely! When I wake up to my droning alarm to a completely silent house, all I want to do is roll over and sleep for another few hours. I miss the closeness of South African and American friends - the laughs and hugs we shared daily - with whom I can now only contact via email and social media. And I miss the spontaneity of things . . .of life, of actives, of afternoons. I know adventures and firsts are just around the corner here though . . . they may just require a little more seeking out. 

As for Cape Town, I can't tell you exactly when but I know someday, somehow I'll be back. In the meantime, I'll live by the words a dear friend told me before I left (whom I’m so thankful to still be in contact with): "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." I guess I have an awful lot to smile about. So here's to another fabulous four months. 

Ava already making plans to return

Ava's pictures of her in Cape Town: proof positive it was not simply a dream

It's been a little over a month since I’ve been home. This trip happened so quickly that I often have to ask myself if it really did happen….it feels so much like a dream. Keeping in mind Ben’s (one of our RA’s in Cape Town) advice to keep this experience meaningful and to make sure it does not turn into another story, I have done my best to convey all that I have learned while I was away. As we all discussed in our final class how hard it might be to talk to family and friends about our experiences, I have found that the most difficult question has been, “What was your favorite part about the trip?” I’ve thought of a million ways to answer this question but I think I like to stick to the people I have met, because that answer encompasses every other experience I had. Adjusting to life at home has been less difficult than I thought it would be. I thought I would have major issues talking to my friends but I’ve actually found a lot of support and realized that they actually want to know about the real parts of my trip that I really wanted to talk about; ie not landscapes and animals. Missing Cape Town certainly is heartache! The colors here at home are less vibrant, the air less clear and the food certainly could never, ever compare. I miss being at Christel House the most I think, among many other “daily life in Cape Town” things. There is something that is so fulfilling about the work I had the privilege of being involved with at Christel House that makes me feel empty being apart from it. I so miss feeling like I was a part of something that mattered, but hopefully that feeling of missing will help me do other volunteer work around my community. Being back home is a bit boring so I am looking forward to starting my next adventure with my first semester on the Storrs campus. I have begun to make plans to return to Cape Town and I can honestly say that despite all of my fears leaving, I would not trade this experience for anything in the world. Until next time, Cape Town!

Manuela's memories

I have been dreading writing this blog because it just makes me miss everything about Cape Town that much more. It has been more than a month since I have been back but yet it feels like I was never there. My experience still feels so surreal and I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Currently, Melanie has been posting all the pics she took during the trip and looking at them brings back so many great memories and events that I totally forgot that occurred.

Settling back home was a lot easier than what I expected but now that I have seen my family and friends I am ready to head back to Cape Town. My life style there was totally different compared to the one that I live here but I LOVED it. Every day was a new adventure whether it was hiking, going to the beach, going to a museum or simply exploring the city. I guess its true what my aunt told me its back to reality; now that I am home my life consists of working, going to the gym and my summer class that will start in July (oh and my trip to Florida very excited for that). 

I must say my biggest challenge since I have been back is telling people about my experience. I have so much to say about it and I do not want to respond with a simple “it was amazing” but it sucks when you can tell people want a simple recap and not the one-hour conversation I could have with them.

I guess it is pretty obvious how much I miss cape town and my Cape Town Fam but now I just have to take things day by day, carry my memories with me and see where the journey I call life takes me.

Side note: I have officially embraced the name Manny but it just not the same when it’s not one of my Cape Town peeps saying it. 

Melanie, Manuela, & Lauren

Housemates out and about

Cassie, Val, & Manuela at Supervisor Thank You Dinner April 2014

First Trip to Green Point Stadium to watch a soccer match (January 2014)

The gang during 1st night of excursion in Johannesburg 30 March

Val "ACT" is moving on

It’s been a month-ish since coming back from Cape Town and I have to admit it’s a little strange. On one end of the spectrum, it feels like it never even happened; like some kind of weird, lucid, three-month-long dream. On the other hand, not being there makes me feel like I’ve out-grown my life BCT (Before Cape Town), as if I used to be fine with wearing shoes that were too tight until I went to Cape Town, and now that I’m back they’re absolutely stifling-ly, suffocating-ly brutal (excuse my use of non-existent words). There ain’t no way I’m putting those shoes back one. Uh-uh. Dumped a few friends (who were on the out anyway for various reasons) and was able to dust myself off and move on. Dumped that old mentality I had BCT, dusted myself off and moved on. Saw where I wanted to go from there and went for it. I feel different, but I guess I still can’t articulate what it is about me that has changed. Probably because it’s not any sort of trait about me that has really been altered, but a gradual unearthing of who I’ve always been underneath all of the social pressures, expected norms and BS masks. Maybe it’s just because I know myself better now. I know what I want and, though not in entirety, more of who I am.

For the most part though I can’t say I’m going through intense withdrawal. Going to Cape Town and leaving Cape Town happened exactly when I was ready to do both. I was ready to dramatically expand my worldview in January and I was ready to go on another adventure by the time the trip was coming to a close, so it was perfect timing. I had a summer full of North Carolina, baseball and research to look forward to, all of which had me in school-girl-jumping-up-and-down excitement, so what was waiting for me once I touched back down in the States had me in a different place than I thought I would be: mourning the close of one awesome three-month journey, but thrilled about what was next to come. Cape Town was great, but I was ready to keep moving.

I still find myself in Cape Town though sometimes (obviously not physically but in my mind). Today I was typing my address into my computer for one reason or another and I found myself typing 10 Loch Rd. I then took at least 5 minutes to figure out why that was my gut reaction and then where I was and then where 10 Loch Rd. came from and then again back to where I was. Despite the balmy North Carolina weather, no, I am not in Cape Town. No, that black dog sitting next to me is not Molly. Yes, that cock roach on the porch is a cock roach, but not a South-African-kitchen cock roach. Sigh, gotta love those international roaches. It is not acceptable to be barefoot all of the time, which seems ludicrous to me. People hundreds of years ago were barefoot (!!and hunted barefoot!!) and they survived (obviously because they procreated), so why can’t I walk into a store and buy a friggin’ sandwich with no shoes on? Also, when explaining to people what South Africa is like, I find myself openly saying “he/she is black” or “colored”, which of course gets people’s panties in a twist because it’s such a taboo word. After so openly addressing race, and discussing what race meant in South Africa of course, I actually got shushed. Shushed, I tell you. He-who-shall-not-be-named-on-this-blog shushed me and almost got a handprint on his face in response. It’s a good thing, for both of us but mostly him, that I was eating a really good Philly cheese-steak at the time and refused to put such a majestic sandwich down (GASP) because of his discomfort with the topic. No one should ever have to do such a thing.

I do miss our group, even though I was so ready to not live in a house with 18 other people (or 17 or however many UConn-ers were in that big ole mansion). I miss having perpetual sleepovers with Cassie, dancing to Shania Twain with Cassie and Morgan, the various ways Cassie and I would pick on Manny (not enough room to list them), David’s nonchalant rehashing of his near-death experiences, heart-to-hearts with Ava, Jen and Kiya’s magnificent cooking, Johnny being Johnny, margarita jugs at Fattys, trivia at On a Roll and everything in between.

So, while Cape Town was the most challenging, enriching, terrible, fantastic experience of my life thus far, I’m ready to create some new adventures; adventures that will be challenging and enriching and terrible and fantastic, but in totally different ways. Cape Town made me thirsty for life.  I’m moving with that thirst. And it’s awesome. Val ACT (After Cape Town) is going places.