I've noticed I only bother to write in this when I want to complain. That makes for a rather lame blog ('specially since my posts are, shall we say, 'infrequent'?). Shouldn't my natural reaction to such a limitless space of "me me me!" have been vainglorious exaggerations of how friggin cool my life is? Yes, I think so too :) So instead've regaling you'all with my measly horror stories, how 'bout I recount a few funny days that went irresponsibly unrecorded?
The Rugby Match (mid- Aug)
Our backpacks stuffed with a month's overdue laundry, as we walked the few blocks from our "digs" to the main road (called Main Road), Blake and I noticed an inordinate number of people in the streets considering the neighborhood is usually about as lively as a retirement community. We followed and got caught in the steadily increasing (and increasingly rowdy) crowd. Soon their were all sorts of venders along the road, and we bought a couple boerewors (greasy south african hotdogs covered in things reminiscent of, yet definitely not, ketchup and sauerkraut) and continued, still oblivious, towards the giant rugby stadium that had been hiding practically in our backyard. We bought $4 standing tickets and walked right in a few minutes before kick-off, clueless to the rules, teams, division, afrikaner chants, everything. It was great; a wonderfully spontaneous and surprisingly enthralling afternoon of the best kind. My first large sporting event ever actually. We figured out our home team was Western Provence, or WP (pronounced VP cause we speak mangled 18th century Dutch here) although I don't think we ever learned who we were playing. And the painted half-naked drunks surrounding us were chanting: "VP, Jou Lekker Ding", or "Western Provence, you sweet thing!" Afterwards headed to our German friend's (from the Red Cross) house for a little dinner party with his Dutch housemates. They quite enjoyed quizzing us dumb Americans. "Can you point out Iraq on a map?" haha, thank god Blake was there....
My Birthday (late- Sept)
My house took me out an awesome Mexican restaurant, "awesome" here being measured in terms of festive ambiance, not authenticity. I'll admit I felt a twinge of nostalgia for the days of little cupcakes with candles, but when they told the waiter it was my birthday, the sombrero and double shot of tequila I was given were by no means unwelcome. We had strange creamy guacamole, enormous square-shaped burritos, and even larger margaritas to make the travesty (taco bell is more mexican) all ok. Haha, we really made a scene, no two ways about it. Kevin spilled his margarita all over the table and when the waiters came with a towel, he said, "No no, I'll handle this," and proceeded to slurp it up through a straw. To the horror of the bartender, Sophia lit her napkin on fire. Good times.
that's all I have time for at the moment, but more to come... I've had more than just two good days here, I swear! I just really need to start writing some papers (plural) for my African Gender class right now.
love you guys :)
