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.

Val's thoughts on leaving Cape Town & heading home

It’s almost time to leave. I loved it here, no doubt, but I think I’m ready go to go home and see my family, in particular my Mom. This place can’t really be summed up in a few words within a blog post, mostly because all of the descriptive words I would use would contradict each other (i.e. relaxing, stressful). Truth be told, I’m exhausted. From squeezing everything I want to do in these past few weeks, having my Mom here, cramming to get final papers and assignments done, switching internships and getting little to no sleep, my tired-ness goes bone-deep, my friend. I want a fluffy bed, a cat and a 12 hour period of time strictly reserved as Val’s Sleeping time, with the only noise allowed coming from a massive fan next to my head.

But on a more serious note, I’ve learned an insane amount of stuff here. It want’s always enjoyable learning these things, especially when it had to do with patience or sharing common spaces with 18 other people, but I know for a fact I’ve change a lot. I just don’t know how. Not until I separate myself from this place and give myself time to process will I really figure out how I’ve been impacted by being here. Once I breathe for a bit I think it’ll smack me in the face with the grace and force of a mac-truck. Mom, prepare yourself for the mess that is coming to greet you at the airport and for the week or so post-study abroad. It’s not gonna be pretty.

Going off that subject, I’m apprehensive about going home because I’m going to be bored. I’m going to be bored, probably grow out of a few friends, be discontent with living at home and NOT have the option of walking out of my bedroom door and asking Manuela or Cassie if they want breakfast. I’m NOT going to have the option of climbing Table Mountain on a random Saturday. And it’s normal, I know, missing what you no longer have or exaggerating memories to make them seem cooler than they were, but I genuinely loved those parts of being here. That is a fact, not an exaggeration. I like living with my friends and I like being able to do exciting things on a whim. At home, the most exciting and spontaneous it gets is going to Ocean City, which is actually not exciting or spontaneous because everyone and their mom goes there just about every weekend. I’m going to miss the autonomy and independence of living abroad as well as the friends/family I’ve made (really, with the uncensored way we act with one another we might as well be family). I’m never going to be able to recreate this trip, with these people in this house on this program, and it makes me kind of sad. Which doesn’t make much logical sense because you can never recreate ANY memory with the same exact people at the same exact time in the same exact place, because everything is always changing. Ah, change, you suck. Like some philosopher whose name currently escapes me said, “You can never step in the same river twice”. 

I guess that’s a good thing since it makes every experience unique and irreplaceable. And believe me, this trip has definitely been unique and irreplaceable.  I’ve had an incredible time and can’t wait to travel everywhere, learn about other cultures and challenge myself. But in the meantime, I plan on being extremely nostalgic for a few weeks and hibernating in my house with some home-cooked meals and Netflix. Peace out Cape Town.

Val's new Internship

So last week I started my new internship at The First Community Resource Centre, which is stationed at a local church in Hanover Park. The organization takes a holistic approach to battling drug addiction and violence by providing a range of restoration programs, support groups, drug education for youth, driving lessons, job readiness programs, computer training, counseling, health education and many other programs that battle the influence of drugs and gang violence from all angles. Seriously, they do it all. They even feed the community on a daily basis out of their own kitchen.

One derivative of The First Community Centre that has a huge influence on the community is Ceasefire Hanover Park, which is a well-respected program in which facilitators are sort of like local firefighters of gang violence. They work out in the streets for the most majority of the time, gathering intel and staying connected with the community, and when they hear of a potential shooting, they try to intervene and prevent the shooting from occurring. The program keeps an open dialogue with the local gangs and have established credibility in the community, keeping tabs on certain people who may be in danger as well as the whereabouts of different “shooters”.

 As for the people who work there, you can absolutely tell they are passionate about what they do AND that they know what they are talking about. Whether they facilitate programs, run the rehabilitation centers, feed the community, are a part of Ceasefire, transport people from place to place or handle the administrative work, the people working at The First Community Resource Centre love what they do. Almost all of them have struggled with drug addiction, have been in gangs in the past or grew up within the community of Hanover Park, and that experience makes their organization that much more potent. Would you listen to someone who was talking at you about something tremendously difficult who doesn’t even know what it’s like to experience it? Probably not. But someone who has walked in your shoes before, struggled with those same demons as you and made it out okay? Abso-freakin-lutely. The people of The First Community Resource Centre connect with everyone their program touches, not just with the logistics and education in the programs, but with a level of understanding, love, humor and a sense of togetherness that feels an awful lot like family.

As for the restoration programs, there are two for 6 weeks at a time in a camp-like setting about 15 minutes away from the headquarters where both high-risk and low-risk individuals struggling with addiction come by choice to learn about drugs, coping, self-esteem, how to handle conflict and how to move forward, all while getting clean. There are religious undertones, but rather than religion dominating the educational parts, the facilitators make sure to provide a good balance of each. Pastor Engel, my supervisor, hopes to eventually reach many other towns and communities with his work, and with his tenacity I don’t doubt he will. The people, the program and what it hopes to accomplish is not just incredible and inspiring, but PRESENTLY EFFECTIVE. They’re mission statement is not just a pretty thought, it’s getting accomplished. An NGO having so much success is rare, especially in South Africa, where resources are not always available for NGOs and social problems are overwhelming. I wish I would have been set up with this internship from the start because these amazing, resilient people are doing things. I am in awe of them. They have been to hell, made it back and are now using their knowledge as a force of good. I’ve been there for such a short time, and yet I feel like I’ve learned more in these 5 days than I have during the last 2 months of my previous internship. HIGHLY recommend this internship for anyone in public health, psychology… or anything really. The people you will meet will teach you, inspire you and humble you. Well, that’s at least what happened to me, and I was there for 5 days; imagine what 3 months of working

Val accomplishes a childhood dream

I accomplished a childhood dream today. I flew.

Cassie, Manny, Mel, Emily W., Morgan, Jenna, Ryan and I went skydiving this morning with Skydive Cape Town. To accurately describe the experience, I’ll quote the dude who sold us our “Skydive Cape Town!” t-shirts: “If you can find an activity that tops skydiving, other than anything involving drugs or taking off your clothes, let me know… because that would be a first.” And he was right.

It was a trifecta of awesome-ness: good people, real fear and a perfect, cloudless sky. We split up into groups of three, with Ryan and Mel going with other groups of people since only three of us plus three divers could fit in the planes. And really, calling those dingy things “planes” is generous.  It may have been scarier flying in that barely-bigger-than-a-model-airplane contraption than it was diving from 8,000 feet up.

Me, Manuela and Cassie went up after Ryan and his group did. Here is the first crucial part of the trifecta: good people. I love these two crazies. We have conversations all the time about how we came on this trip expecting to make friends, but not close ones. And now we’re rubbing up against each other’s shoulders and purring, creating flattering nicknames (Casey, Cassandra, Cassarella, Manny, Manuela, Veal, V’Lishia), going HAM dancing at clubs, being strange human beings, confiding in each other and singing obnoxiously loudly/terribly at all times during the day. And the best part is I don’t even really recall how it happened. I don’t remember a time when I thought “Hey, I’m going to go try to get close to Cassie/Manuela!” Nope, it just happened. And I think that’s a testament to how real we are with each other. We didn’t have to try to get along or fake our way into friendship. It was a genuine and spontaneous thing.

Next up is Real Fear. And let me tell you, once I got up in that dingy plane/thing, it was REAL. I hadn’t let myself even think about it up until then and it was all-encompassing to the point that I blacked out from the time I swung my legs over the edge of the open doorway until five seconds before the parachute was pulled. I was told I wouldn’t get that stomach-dropping-into-my-toes feeling and that was correct because it was more like a stomach-dropping-to-the-earth’s-core feeling. I felt so out of control and free, which was awesome and awful at the same time, and I’m pretty sure I screamed the entire time we were free-falling. My diver literally had to pull my head to the side so that I would look at the camera instead of staring at the ground and squealing like I had a popped lung.

The final part of the Trifecta of Awesome-ness is the clear blue sky. The condition of the sky sounds so trivial compared to the thought of jumping from 8,000 feet, but this one simple factor can throw off the whole day if it isn’t accommodating. The experience will not be as charged if it’s cloudy/rainy/cold/windy/not sunny, and when we went up, the weather was warm, sunny and without a cloud in sight. Looking out of the plane windows, we saw mountains, fields, the ocean and little houses smooshed together along roadsides. It was beautiful and, after a few days of cool weather and rain, almost cathartic.

The Trifecta of Awesome-ness + Fulfilling Seemingly Impossible Childhood Dreams = A good day

Val's mom's whirlwind visit

Momma Everett was in Cape Town for two weeks and just left on the 26^th. Even though two weeks sounds like a long time, when you want to cram in every part of your two month experience for your mother, those two weeks become a sprint: sprinting from tourist spot to tourist spot, sprinting from restaurant to taxi to hotel to bed, sprinting through all things over stimulating and awe-inspiring. If you think we were able to process anything, you would be incorrect. However, if you think we bickered endlessly, you would be a 48 on the scale of correctness (which usually only ranges from 1-10). I would blame the brief respite of summer, taunting us with cool weather and rain, but really we all know it’s because I’m a terrible tour guide. What can I say, I have no patience for those who are overly-enthused by a group of drummers on Long Street and have to take 57 pictures of the same shot, accompanied by a range of sound effects such as “oooooh”, “aaaaahhh” and “VAL LOOK AT THIS OMG LOOK DO YOU SEE IT LOOK.” Luckily, I know no such person. Ahem.

Everything we fit into two weeks:

• Hiked up Table Mountain via Skeleton Gorge
• Enjoyed the flowers at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens
• Attended the Cape Town Folk n’ Music Festival
• Got a little tipsy on a wine tasting tour to multiple vineyards in Stellenbosch
• Attempted to shark cage dive
• Took the Cape Peninsula Tour
• Spent a day on the roof of an On N’ Off Bus (goes all around the city)
• Went on a community tour with Vernon (he is the bomb; highly recommended for anyone who visits)
• Saw the penguin colony in Simon’s Town
• Sat in on a cool guest speaker in one of Marita’s classes
• Ate our weight in chocolate at Charly’s Bakery
• Checked out my favorite places on Main Rd. (meaning mostly Coacoa Wah Wah)
• Learned about the forced removals at the District Six Museum
• Collected shells at Camps Bay
• Shopped at Cavendish Mall in Claremont
• Experienced Fat Cactus in all of its less-than-mediocre glory, accompanied by a surprise barbershop quartet performance by four “handsomes”
• Moseyed up and down Long Street and Kloof Street (and took an excessive amount of pictures of drummers)
• Spent an evening eating dinner at Marita’s flat with my professors and peers
• Went on the Robben Island Tour
• Spent multiple nights at the V & A Waterfront
• Ate the national animal, which is Springbok, accompanied by Kudu and Warthog (sorry Pumba)
• Talked politics with multiple cab drivers (we got to know the Unicab drivers FAR too well)
• Bought some funky souvenirs at the Hout Bay flea market
• A few quiet nights in to chill and talk

Virtual high fives all around.

Despite the stress of fitting everything into a small frame of time, it was great to have my Mom here to experience everything I’ve been trying to explain via FaceTime. Talking about what I’ve done, how the people are, the cultural differences, the economic disparity and the changes in myself doesn’t do this experience the justice it deserves. So, if you are a parent and you’re reading this, go visit your son/daughter. Because there is no way you will be able to understand Cape Town till you see it for yourself. My Mom actually said that to me, so it has to be true (#CaroleNeverLies). Share this with your kid. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

And if you are disappointed and have your pitchforks sharpened/torches flaming, take it up with Carole Everett. That’s C-A-R-O-L-E, not V-A-L-E-R-I-E.

Love you Mom J

Val & her Mom, Carole

Val on the commonality of loving to laugh

Similarly to what I said about the homestay, I was not at all looking forward to the Human Rights Weekend. Another weekend of structure, forced interaction and no free-time. No availability to hike or explore the city or go out and meet my chiseled blonde model of a future husband whose pastimes include petting cats and serenading brunettes named Valerie with his John Mayer-esque voice (still working on that one). And I love, want, NEED that free-time/alone time unless you’d like to deal with a pissed off, overwhelmed introvert who can be quite feisty when instigated (or, as a friend calls it, “the sass”). I was ready to bar myself off in my room for the weekend before exposing my dear co-educators to that darling side of me (just ask my Mother). It didn’t start out so hot. 

When I went to go grab a coffee during our first stop to pick up our friends from other countries, one of them not only took my window seat (nbd, got to snuggle with who I would soon know as Isaac and the beloved Tina), but he thought my headband, which fell on the floor in front of him, was in fact underwear. And I didn’t know this until about an hour into the trip. So, what I’m saying is there was an hour long period of time when a full grown man thought he was staring at lacy white underwear on the ground and was trying to articulate how he would break it to me that he now knew what my undergarments looked like. And as soon as he awkwardly said “...ahem… are you… missing anything?” call it my insane ability to read minds, or maybe just intuition, but I knew. After a nice awkward laugh and some profuse reassuring, I accepted my fate in what I thought was going to be a weekend where “the sass” was going to come out full force. Following that lovely ice-breaker (a generous way of putting it), we were sitting on a bus that had to be either painfully lost or tracing a circle with its wheels in order to send an important ground signal to any passing aircraft (some kind of code maybe?); why else would we be driving around in a circle for 20 minutes at a time? 

The awkard "getting to know you" start to the weekend

Eventually we got there and met everyone officially, which was one of those forced interaction things that starts out awkward, with people making small talk and displaying body language that screams “I AM UNCOMFORTABLE!”, but after enduring that necessary stage of introductions, I found people to be pretty damn cool. Maria (AKA Ancient Queen Quamata) made me laugh immediately, Brilliant was, well, brilliant, Shaine realized my true essence and started calling me “the cat lady”, Eugene candidly spoke about the Khoi people and Lauren enthusiastically pointed out to Siobhan that her sister’s name is also Siobhan, which didn’t make Siobhan particularly excited since he is in fact a boy.

Val introducing herself 

After that we were all split up into rooms, which were absolutely GORGEOUS in a rustic white-brick kinda way. I spent one night on our back porch that overlooked the whole olive farm with Johnny and Tiny just talking and looking at the sky and I saw, not just my first shooting star, but my second as well, and Tina saw FIVE. The last time I saw so many stars was when I was a little kid at my grand-parents old house in upstate New York. Turns out, even though everyone on the trip spends four fifths of every day together, we all bonded some more, I bonded with my pillow some more, and I got to know some really interesting people. 

Maria & Val enjoying the laughter and the food.

While I didn’t learn as much about everyone individually, as in hearing personal stories, I did learn quite a bit about human rights and people as people. That being that, even countries and cultures apart, people have one commonality: we all love laughing. Even when humor didn’t translate, we spent a good deal of the weekend just laughing with each other. And while I was glad to get back to our home base at the end of the weekend due to total mental exhaustion (we had to think during these workshops, god forbid), I found myself solidly content with the weekend. And also the dessert they served after every meal. A girl could get used to ice cream and French fries after every lunch and jello cake after every dinner. Whichever model said “nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels” really has never had jello cake. Or homemade muffins. Or *insert any food from human rights weekend here*. Food child ensued.

Val receiving her Human Rights Training Certificate at the conclusion of the weekend.