A Chapter in South Africa

Where in the World?

2010-02-28T12:17:00.001-08:00

As many of you may already know, Wrenna has been out here for over two months now. It's safe to say that the 'adjustment period' is now over... both for south africa and her classes. If you're interested in learning more about the strange differences between american and south african universities, you'll have to shoot wrenna an email. I'll be taking you through all the fun and excitement of the months since her plane landed.

In addition to seeing day three of south africa versus england in a five-day cricket test match, we managed to see a soccer match between south africa and zimbabwe. I even took a loaf of bread to wave at the zim supporters tauntingly but forgot it in the car. I did take the ol' djembe drum in and had an amazing time. africans operate just one drum beat away from a dance party so add in a three goal victory over zim and you've got a happy crowd. The game was in durban's new moses mabhida stadium and being in it for a big match is just breathtaking. all the negative hype from the past few years about south africa not hosting 2010 might even make sitting there that much more special. The stadium is amazing.

Valentine's day was spent in the drakensberg. although gaining recent popularity for its cameo at the end of last summers blockbuster film '2012', the drakensberg is best know for its biodiversity and rippling stone escarpments that stretch for miles (kilometres). wrenna and i managed to tag along with the local 'mountain club' branch and the result was luxury. during the soccer in a few months, the very same people we were with for the weekend will be charging to lead hikes. the hiking party had two cooks, a bird expert, a flower expert and 71 year-old woman who has hiked every inch of the berg many times over.

we slept in a cave that fit all twelve of us and in the nearby tarns (pools of water in the stone) were little mini-ecosystems that were simply indescribable. James the flower expert pointed out that at the bottom of some of the tarns (underwater) grow plants and because the water is so clear they photosynthesize no prob. the only thing is that in order to reproduce they need their flowers to be pollinated... so they send up little stringy vines to the surface where the flowers blossom. this flower is only found within 5km of where we were standing. turns out we were also standing a few yards from the lesotho border. wrenna and i found a gap in the barbed wire fence and quickly jumped into lesotho, officially making the camping trip an international expedition.

during the last stretch of the hike, iona the 71 year old asked us to tread lightly so we didn't scare away the giant brown puff adder that lived under rocks right next to the trail we were hiking. she'd only seen it once but wanted to see it again. your ankles were no more than half a metre from two snake holes that easily could fit a giant snake. they live on rodents and hikers. i don't know what snake shit looks like but if it looks like a small snake, then there was snake shit all over the trail. wrenna, for the record, is afraid of snakes. also for the record, the expression "they're just as afraid of you as you are of them" doesn't apply to snakes. the expression, "they're just as oblivious to you as you are of them" unfortunately holds true. also not applying to brown puff adder snakes is, "they're just as likely to bite you in the ankle when you step on them as you are to them." THEY DON'T HAVE ANKLES.

in work related news, my major cable-stayed bridge project is only a few months from completion. i used to think i was up high when we climbed up to the deck level. now the scaffolding goes up to the top where the stays will attach. that's more than twice as high as before. oy. about 60 metres. like a 20 story building.

the most exciting story to relate is that i'll be going to the netherlands in late march to visit SSI's parent company DHV. late last year i entered into a DHV policy paper competition in which teams from offices from all over the world submit business plans implementable by DHV. i had an old idea lying around that i'd almost forgotten about. i punted the idea to some super talented young SSI colleagues and voila, three months later and we've won. we're gonna fly out early and come back late to make sure that, as young-ssi's delegates to our overseas colleagues, we have time to visit the sex museum.

wrenna will unfortunately be stuck in pmb taking exams and submitting big reports. if this sounds unfair to wrenna, it is.

it TOTALLY is.

Who Will Make It To The World Cup?!!!

2009-08-31T11:50:00.000-07:00

no matter how much i prepare you for this video, you WILL be left doubting its authenticity... and i don't blame you. i thought i was on a drug trip when i first saw it. i know you must be confused so i'll create a little FAQ. here goes.

- what channel was this on?
the channel was cnn international

- what the fuck?
I KNOW!!!

here's my favourite part: go to www.homelessworldcup.org... THEY HAVE A HOMEPAGE!!! your browser tab will read "Home - Homeless World Cup".

once you've come to grips with your disappointment for not buying the rights to "homelessworldcup.org" (and "romaniatourism.com"... that would be "websquatting") you've probably started getting excited and patriotic about the tournament. on the tip of your tongue is the same question asked in the months leading up to any international soccer tournament: "who will make it to the tournament?!"
i mean, who will literally MAKE IT all the way there?

the netherlands is sending their team with one-way tickets.

why doesn't fifa combine this tournament with their already popular world cup beach soccer tournament and create a 'beach / bum' tournament?

after the game, the players trade jerseys... for food.

every four years, countries from all over the world get together and decide who will host the tournament. last year milan showed up late and lost.

is the homeless world cup made out of styrofoam?

wait wait, come back, i'm not done yet.

- cristiano ronaldo plays for the portuguese national team and mario plays for the portugeuese national homeless team

- ronaldo is real madrid's 80 million pound striker.
- mario is an 80 pound striker

- ronaldo is first in line to take free kicks
- mario is first in line to take free meals

- ronaldo came off the bench in 2006 to score a goal against greece
- mario spent 2006 on a bench covered in greece

- ronaldo has a shoe deal
- mario has a shoe

please don't hesitate to add further with your questions and/or comments

cheers

Wu-Hoooooo!!!!

2009-06-07T12:33:00.001-07:00

after two heart-wrenching notices of 'unsuccessful' applications for fifa 2010 tickets (one rejection in phase 1 and one rejection in phase 2) i had begun shaking my fists at the heavens. my ire should have been directed less upwards and more westwards... as it turns out, in a clear indication of growing american interest in the beautiful game, team specific tickets (tst) for the united states (usa) are the most sought after tickets for 2010. south africans are the only nation to be buying more tickets than usa but, by my estimation, the south africans aren't purchasing bafana bafana tickets but instead stadium specific tickets. remember, this is a big country. would someone in california apply for a game that might take place on a wednesday in new york?
this news about a mass yankee migration made me decide to seek out a new direction. i'm happy to report that, after adopting the same strategy that earned us tickets in germany for 2006, i have finally tasted success.
i was quickly awarded (at category 2 seating no less) the first four matches for...
SOUTH KOREA!
...and yes, yes... the fourth match is assuming s.korea makes it out of the group stage...
but regardless, the day after i paid for the tickets s.korea beat the u.a.e. to guarantee their place in south africa... so it is on for 2010.
the next step is to wait. it won't be until october that the qualifying matches will conclude and then the first week of december will see the draw.
until then we can only hope (for our sake not the s.koreans') that spain, the netherlands and usa end up in their group and that the games will be played in durban, cape town and polokwane.
time to get it on. no choice but to get it on.

In Other Soccer-Related News:

2009-06-07T12:27:00.001-07:00

a week from today starts the fifa confederations cup. for me it'll be an excuse to enjoy a four-and-a-half day weekend in joburg. for the participating teams it'll be an invaluable opportunity to see what the climate is like this time of year in south africa as well as to get a feel for the grass (meaning the sod, not the durban poison). it'll also be a chance to get a feel for playing in a stadium filled with the noise of drums and vuvezela.

In Other Soccer-Related News:

2009-06-07T12:25:00.001-07:00

this saturday saw the first ever inter-office soccer match for SSI in kzn. the idea has been around for some time but never was acted on until a fortuitous project meeting where i needed to use our environmental branch to report on the ecology of a job site.
when, kushela, the environmental consultant that was assigned to the project mentioned that he played soccer, the discussions for a derby began.
in the following four weeks, to everyone's benefit, kushela took the necessary initiative to organize a field, food, drinks and his eleven-man durban side.
unfortunately, pinetown seemed to use up all their energy in the preparation for the match and had none left to use on the pitch. at the half, several mercy acts were enacted to reduce the amount of goals being scored by maritzburg. these acts involved:
- giving them some of our players
- making me a striker

Worm Holes

2009-05-24T09:57:00.001-07:00

time travel will always be a hot topic for discussion. maybe not so much in the future once costco gets their hands on the technology to make them for the average joe but for the time being, time travel is a wildly exciting speculative subject for conversation, research and film. science is even making it an accepted and plausible possibility. it used to be that time travel required the use of (and i'll put these in order of ascending plausability) a delorean, a silver flying walnut or a 1x4x9 black monolith.

but ever since we were sold on the theory of wormholes, we just nod our heads whenever someone in a film is expelled from a bent-light-sometimes-liquidy portal half a metre from the ground, lands awkwardly, stand ups, brushes themself off and exclaims, "we must have traveled through a wormhole!". must have... so i'd say that a bunch of chalk-fingered astrophysicists with doctorates have got us hook, line and sinker with wormholes.
and naturally, 'hook, line and sinker' brings me smoothly to my next discussion point:

worm holes.

have you stopped to think that there are two radically different doctorate research programmes out there with basically the same name? one involves the concept of transdimensional travel by bending space-time to create a wormhole. the other involves studying worms in holes.

the worm-propulsion subject (in particular marine worms) was brought to my attention years ago when a friend's girlfriend, kelly, began her research that has now culminated in a ph.d (and tons of awards) on the subject. i think at the time she wanted to know about strain guages in jell-o. kelly has been passionate about the worm holes for practicaly forever and not too long ago was listed in pop sci as one of their 'brilliant 10' for her research with polychaetes.

but i'm not here to lecture on astrophysics or even sediment crack propogation mechanics. as always, i want to stress the importance of grammar and proper spelling.

if every august you find yourself in a grassy field lying on your back staring at the heavens for the leonids showers, on your college application under "major" put "wormholes". however, if you're facing the opposite direction during these meteor showers, be sure to write the underscore clearly. "worm_holes".

Two Things: Part one

2009-05-20T10:53:00.000-07:00

two things:

i'll be the first to admit that america might not be most educated when it comes to stuff outside its own borders. in fact, people i meet here (read: young white people) don't have a problem reminding me that americans they've met in their travels to the united states are laughably ignorant of life here in south africa.
"americans think we have lions just walking around here! like they walk through our grass huts" and "were you surprised that we had airports here?"
they're right. the only time i'd ever thought of south africa as a teenager was when i was assigned to read "July's People". For those of you that have read "July's People", an exploration of the social impact left by apartheid in a fictional (nay, predicted) world that followed apartheid to its natural conclusion: war, you can only imagine what sort of outlandish misconceptions i had developed of the whole area. this was 1993... i think i was too busy trying to get the attention of anna, my first real girlfriend, for me to pay attention to mr. hilbert explaining the actual political climate in south africa when nadine gordimer wrote this book.
that being said, when confronted with these anecdotes about americans, i originally had trouble standing up for my people seeing as i was both totally confused and utterly disinterested with regards to south africa before i came here. after all, every time bugs bunny, elmer fudd, felix the cat or any pre- politically correct cartoon character found him/itself in subsaharan africa it was inevitable that one or more of the following occurred:
- the main character would end up in a giant metal pot with the subsequent carrots, celery and sneeze-inducing salt and pepper
- a thick-maned lion or bengal tiger would chase our hero from right to left and left to right several times. a joke would usually occur involving the lion's mane or the tiger's stripes.
- the black natives, wearing grass skirts and bones through their noses, would break into song... predictably a percussive jazz number. JAZZ?! we all know that if the same cartoons were being made today, the natives would be rapping and dancing like chris brown.
- if johnny quest or any hannah barbara cartoon drama were taking place, quicksand would rear its ugly head.
so in our collective defense, these were our impressions of africa.
but the best defense is a good offense. to defend the honour (whoops) of my fellow americans i now turn the tables on those who wish to ridicule you.
with alarming regularity, when i announce that i'm from california i get asked if i've met any celebrities. usually the drunker, younger and girl-er the person is, the more specific the celebrity. Johnnie Depp, Nicolas Cage, Ice Cube and Snoop Dogg top the list. Paul Reiser, Archimedes and Stephen Jay Gould round out the bottom.
so whenever i'm mocked for americans thinking that south africa is nothing but talking lions battling for the 'pridelands' with hyenas and using mackaws as their consulate, i now counter that the same south africans honestly think that Tom Cruise routinely borrows a cup of sugar from me.
this brings us to the picture at the top of this article: further fuel was added to my fire when my parents visited and, in fact, the nearby lion park had its fence blown over and the lions escaped.
who's living up to their stereotype now?!

I Enjoy Nouning

2009-05-19T23:37:00.000-07:00

This brings us to part 2.
Newspaper sales are different here than they are where you come from. 'paperboys' here stand at traffic lights ("robots") early in the morning wearing red coats walking up and down on the dashed line carrying an armful of papers. if south africa were to make a video game of 'paperboy', it wouldn't be half as exciting as the american version where you end up riding a bike through an obstacle course complete with tire targets and jumps over rivers, all whilst being pursued by zombies and killer bees. i guess you could argue that the south african version of 'paperboy' would be 'frogger'.
the sad sad joke being that the life (not to mention income) of a paperboy in south africa is far more perilous seeing as they basically stand on the dashed white lines and reflectors as non-customers are zipping past them frantically trying to get to work while distractedly reading the newspaper they bought at the previous robot.
in this day and age, the era of 'newsies' are behind us. there's no more "extry, extry, read all about it!". bullet-proof tinted windows, 6 speaker car sound systems and potential language barriers all impede this form of advertising. so newspapers canvass lampposts with summaries of the top four or five intriguing stories that you can learn about if you shell out the nominal cost of a newspaper. the "lions still on the loose" is just one example.
but i'm not here to discuss the whereabout of game in pietermaritzburg. i want to discuss headline ambiguity. lots of nouns moonlight as verbs... for example: the word "moonlight" and in these hyper-distilled summaries when an editor chooses to create a headline comprised ENTIRELY from words that can be either a noun or a verb (or adjective)... well, watch out is all i'm gonna say.
i'll start off with these:

- pension age rate flags
- graduate fights protest fine
- rape pupil hides

that last one felt like more of a weird command than a headline...
anyhow, this all reminds me of the headline paul found in the sac bee when we were in college:

- judge blocks sailor's discharge

this was back in the day of "don't ask don't tell...

remember, share 'em if you see 'em.

Poo's Your Own Adventure

2009-05-17T11:11:00.000-07:00

about a year ago i was asked to contribute an article or story to a friend's upstart 'zine. i'm not down with the literary circles of the bay area like i once was so i couldn't tell you what people write about in self-published mini-mags these days. regardless of whatever is mainstream, michelle was starting a 'zine about "shitting oneself". now whether she had chosen this subject matter because fecalphilia had gone mainstream since i'd left the country (what are the odds?) and she thought she could make millions or because she felt a duty to fill a niche market i forgot to ask.
all i know is that she was starting a poo 'zine and she came to me.
i don't claim to be an expert on the subject. i've never taken an oath in court and testified as an expert witness on the subject and only once have i ever been credited in a documentary or film involving poo-related hijinx (twice if you count the video where jeremy jaeger defecates white to abdicate himself of witchcraft charges).
below, please find my submission. it's a 'choose your own adventure'. one interesting note is that i had one of my interns proofread it to make sure the pages all linked up. probably didn't see that as part of his job requirements when he was studying civil engineering. so i humbly submit to you the first "Poo's your own Adventure" entitled:

MR. BROWN GOES TWO IN WASHINGTON

“Shake him again.” Are the first words you hear. You’re instantly aware of your own weight and dull pain running up and down your right side. Shortly thereafter you realize that you are being shaken. You recognize the voices. They belong to your best friend Paul and his sister Suzie.

Suzie says to Paul, “He couldn’t have forgotten.” and this instantly wakes you up. Your eyes open quickly and the light floods in and stabs the back of your skull. You were sure it was four in the morning but the bright daylight confirms your fears that your family is arriving at the airport this morning and your alarm didn’t go off to wake you up.

As you scramble to your feet you realize why your alarm didn’t wake you up. Your alarm clock is next to your bed which is 15 miles away. The sign outside reads, “Pizza and Pasta”. You are the manager.

“What time is it?” You ask either Paul or Suzie. Over their shoulders you see customers in the parking lot confused by the open door and chairs still on the tables inside.

“Late.” They reply in unpracticed unison.

If you choose to return home and change and shower before going to the airport please turn to page 13

If you choose to lock up your store and head straight to the airport please turn to page 4

Page 4

“No time to lose!” as you reach into your pockets for your keys. You pull out two sets, neither of which are familiar. You throw them in the tip jar as you run out the front door. You pause briefly to mimic locking the front door so as to convince the customers in the parking lot that unfettered access to balls of pizza dough and pre-sliced pepperoni isn’t theirs for the taking.

“Where’s my car?” you ask.

“Maybe your family will want to help you find it.” Says Paul. This sends you into a panic sweat. Your balls are drenched and you feel an uncomfortable pit form at the bottom of your stomach.

Turn to page 6

page 6

You jump into the backseat of Suzie’s old Geo Prism. The movement has made you aware of the effects of last night’s binge. The Jaegermeister you taste on your breath has radically softened the already delicate stool consisting of Taco Bell’s latest ethni-fusion: the nacho stir fry.
”Run, don’t wok to the nearest toilet” you mutter ominously to yourself.

“You smell like a bar rag.” Paul informs you as he pushes the passenger seat against your knees. Bringing your knees closer to your chest has the anticipated effect and as soon as the doors close a pocket of gas moves like an overfed St. Bernard to the back door. It wants out.

If you choose to relieve the pressure immediately, turn to page 80

If you choose to hold it in and spare your friends, turn to page 79

Page 7

The road to the airport is uncrowded. With the exception of a deep rumbling deep in your stomach, the debacle of the past night’s binge is starting to fade. The wind blowing in through windows has a calming effect and your mind wanders.

Suzie snaps you from your mindless wanderings. “Paul, do you think we should stop for gas? We weren’t planning on taking our car to the airport so the tank is kinda low.”

“We’ve got enough,” he replies, “but we either refill now or after we pick up his family.”

“Well before we pick them up, you two are dropping yourselves off at some political rally right?”

“Heil Hitler.” They say in practiced unison.

Turning to face you, Suzie asks, “You must be hungry. Do you want to stop for a bite?”

If you choose to pull over for a bite and refill the tank, turn to page 9

If you choose to keep driving, turn to page 1,000

Page 8

When you finally reach the freeway towards the airport, cars are moving slowly.
”Must be an accident… road was fine when we went to find you at ‘Pizza and Pasta’”

You immediately regret the previous detour. Time is no longer on your side and you begin to get nervous.

You picture your family waiting at the airport terminal, holding their luggage and waiting on the curb breathing in taxi exhaust and you immediately begin to perspire again.

The nervous feeling of butterflies hits you and spreads to your stomach. Immediately your stomach rumbles loudly.

“Please don’t tell me you’re hungry.” Says Suzie.

“Ummm.” Is the only response you can muster. All of your energy and attention is focused on clenching your asshole shut. “Divert all power to rear shields Chewy!” escapes your lips. Confused, Paul mimics a wookie, and rolls down the windows as a precaution.

You feel like Gallipoli is taking place in your lower intestine. Deadly gases and trench warfare are all you can think of. A single bead of sweat runs down your temple. The buildup is unbearable. You realize you’re not even sitting anymore but completely stiff as a board. If a butterfly were to land on your abdomen you’d explode.

If you can’t stand it and ask Paul to pull over, turn to page 50

If you think you can hold it in, turn to page 61

Page 9

“Let’s pull over.” You reply. Your stomach, which agrees with your decision but is being disagreeable on all other counts, rumbles audibly belying activities that rarely end cleanly.

You pull into a small gas station and Paul begins filling the tank.
”Can I get you anything from the shop?” you offer politely.
”Snap into it!” is his reply.

At the counter you grab a bag of Lay’s chips, a sprite and two Slim Jims for Paul.

“Can you tell me where the restroom is?” but even through the inch of bulletproof glass you can see that the answer to your question is reserved for the desperate. His cocked eyebrow reads loud and clear. “If you can hold it, you should hold it.”

“Oh Yeayuh.” Paul says as you hand him the Slim Jims.

Again, squeezing yourself into the back of the Geo Prism, the uncomfortable positions and shifting involved, has shifted a large pocket of gas.

You jump out of the car before Suzie gets in and you attempt to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately you realize that riding the tail end of the gas is nacho stir-fry that has been marinating overnight in six shots of Jaegermeister. Convinced you can hold it, and picturing the much more pleasant airport restroom, you fan three times behind your ass, jump up and down twice and spin around once before getting back in the car.

Turn to page 8

Page 10

You point yourself at the Domestic gate and pray that you’ve made the correct choice. As you approach the curb where your family should be you can see a large crowd gathered and some commotion. Your stomach ties up in knots. Guilt. Fear. Concern.

As you get closer you see the cause of the commotion. Two monkeys are throwing their feces at everyone leaving the baggage claim.

The monkeys are your parents

Your parents are monkeys. You didn’t shit your pants but your parents are monkeys.

Page 13

“Would you mind if we go home and grab some clean clothes first. I smell like sour milk.”

Paul takes a deep breath and replies, “It’s your call.” And points the car away from the airport and towards your house.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you fall into a restless that is interrupted only five minutes later when the car stops in your driveway. You quickly climb through the rear window and let Paul and Suzie in the front door.

As you jump in the shower you hear the familiar sounds of “The Fairly Odd Parents” coming from your television. The warm water seems to wash away all the ills of the previous night or two and it’s only the strongest act of willpower that pulls you out of the warm shower and into a clean t-shirt and debatably clean jeans.

“Let’s roll!” you exclaim as you burst from your bedroom into the living room. You’re feeling unstoppable.

“Your crotch is still wet.” Says paul getting up slowly.

“It’ll dry in the car. You guys ready?”

The Geo Prism speeds away from your house.

Turn to page 8

Page 50

Through gritted teeth you exclaim, “Pull over!”

Naively Paul shouts “Dude! Don’t throw up in the backseat!”

“Just pull over man!”

This is easy and difficult all at the same time seeing as Paul is in the middle lane of traffic that isn’t moving.

“Um.” Suggests Suzie.

Your stomach makes more noise which this time can’t be mistaken for hunger but instead something far more insidious. Off comes Suzie’s seatbelt and she opens the passenger door in the middle of traffic. Looking around, you feel like you’re in the middle of the scene from “Independence Day” where everyone is trying to get out of Washington D.C. Thinking of Jerry Bruckheimer only makes you have to shit even more.

Turn to page 2719

Page 61

You think of baseball. After all it had worked in the past to prolong your ejaculation. It works. The armies amassed at the gates of your sphincter were turned away. You celebrate and mentally pump your fists in the air like the Negro regiment in that Matthew Broderick film you watched in Junior High and High School.

“Can you guys name a film other than ‘Glory’ that everyone has seen six times but has never once paid to rent?”

A peaceful silence follows. After some time Suzie pipes up. “Donald Duck in Math Land is a distant second.”

Heads nod in agreement. Traffic is still barely moving and time is passing. Your parents’ plane is probably landed by now and you still have to drop Paul and Suzie off in town at some political rally and then get to the airport.

“By Jove, let’s take the side roads. At least we’ll be moving.”

“Capital idea.”

Turn to page 1000

Page 68

You let the phone continue vibrating against your thigh as you speed to the airport. You check the clock on the dashboard of the Prism. 22:15. You subtract twelve to account for Suzie setting the alarm in non-military time in the PM.

It’s a safe bet that the phone call was probably your family calling to say they are at the baggage claim wondering where you are but seeing as you’re only ten minutes from the airport you speed along.

As you approach the terminals you realize that you forgot to check to see which airline your family is coming in on and hence you’re not sure of the gate to meet them at. You have to make a quick decision. The signs read “Local” and “Domestic”.

If you choose to go to the Local gate turn to page 90

If you choose to go to the Domestic gate turn to page 10

Page 69

You dig deep into your jeans and try to extract the cell phone. You fumble around and drop the phone under your seat. At the first traffic light you bend down to retrieve it but bending at the waist turns you into a cake decorators frosting gun. Before you can close the airlocks you frost the inside of your pants.

You’ve shit yourself. Your parents leave everything to the cat.

Page 79

You decide to hold in the gas. The same laws of chemistry that govern the atoms in the sun are playing out in your abdomen and the expanding pressure pushes out several beads of sweat on your forehead.

You’re starting to look and feel like the fat man from “Who’s Line Is It Anyways?” except you’ve removed your right shoe and are using the sock as a kerchief to dab your brow.

Unable to relieve the pressure by removing your pants belt (you’re not wearing one), you realize there are only two ways to relieve the painful and uncomfortable bloating. The second option involves a caesarian section.

It is at this time that a trapped pocket of gas that has been waiting anxiously behind a stopped 18-wheeler turd on your intestinal highway decides to pass on the shoulder. The pocket of gas, eager to get to work, speeds along the shoulder and slams into the traffic cop that is your sphincter. All the methane and sulfur pockets are furious and the taco bell stir-fry is letting new commuters on at every on ramp. The backup seems to go on for miles.

An uptight pocket of gas shouts, “linch the sphincter!”

If you choose to bend to the will of the mob and fart on Paul and Suzie, turn to page 80

If you choose to continue holding it in turn to page 79 (again)

Page 80

“Thanks again for picking me up guys.” You say as you let out a cocktail of gases.

“Our pleasure.” Starts Suzie. But Paul, who was looking in the rearview mirror noticed that you inexplicably leaned three degrees to one side whilst you said this.

“I’m gonna kick your ass if you just did what I think you did.”

“Wha-“ starts Suzie but she stops her question as both front windows begin to roll down. “Dammit. Go Paul. Drive!”

You slump down comfortably in the back seat as the Geo Prism speeds out of the parking lot.

Turn to page 7

Page 90

As you drive into the airport you look carefully for your parents at the Local gate. At first you don’t see them. Instead, standing on the curb are sixteen clowns in all their clown glory. “I can’t believe they’re allowed to travel like that.”

Then you see the humpback whale on the curb.

Bells are ringing.

You slowly open your eyes and realize you’re lying down on the floor of the pizza and pasta shop that you manage. The bells are customers trying to get the front door open. The smell is a corn-infested shit that you took around page 2719. The good news is it’s mostly contained to your underpants and cargo shorts. For good reason you’re afraid to stand up.

You’ve shit your pants at work and you don’t work in German porn. Consider yourself fired and disowned.

Page 1000

This turns out to be the best and only good decision you’ve made in weeks. You’re delighted when you hit roadblocks miles earlier than expected.

“Closed because of your rally guys. Guess you’ll have to walk from here.”

You leap into the front seat and thank Paul and Suzie for their help as the throw the Prism into first. As you’re about to put it into second you feel a vibration coming from your pants. Unexpectedly, it’s just your cell phone.

If you choose to answer your phone turn to page 69

If you choose to keep driving and ignore the phone turn to page 68

Page 2719

You run into the median, the only part of the freeway with some shrubbery to provide a little privacy. You can feel the eyes of everyone in their cars on you but the sensation is nothing compared to the full body pain you feel.

Like a penguin you waddle around looking for a nest in which to give your warm and explosive birth. You sense the collective gasp of your fellow motorists as you squat and pull pants and undies down with one movement.

The shit is like a liberal arts graduate: directionless and misguided. Much of it lands on your heels and finds its way into your shoes.

The satisfaction of relieving the unbearable pain is now gone but instead replaced with worry. How can you get in the car with so much shit on your shoes? You look at Paul and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

That’s when you lose your balance. You were lightheaded already and now looking to your right and left has left you with just enough vertigo to topple backwards into your own mess of fiesta compost.

This time when you look up to see Paul he’s motioning Suzie to get in the car and lock the doors. As he honks at the cars in front of him to move, you realize your ride is trying to get away from you.

You’ve shit yourself on the median of a major highway. You’ll be on the evening news and everything around you except your face will be pixilated for the sake of the viewing audience.

Mass Email

2009-05-08T13:39:00.001-07:00

sorry about the mass email everybody but i'd like to argue that email has no mass.

argument complete.

nextly, i feel like a bit of a criminal only communicating via these mass emails. am i breaking the rules of netiquette? i guess i'm fine breaking the rules as long as i don't go overboard and start breaking the laws of netiquette. or maybe i am.

i think if one only communicates via mass emails he/she is breaking the law of 'conversation of mass'. it's really just a simple restating of the law first stated by ePicurus between 325 and 275 BCC.

hello?

i think my page counter is spinning backwards thanks to that one.

Taste - Test

2009-05-08T03:46:00.001-07:00

yesterday, on the way to squash with a scottish coworker, the subject of a beautiful female doctor in town came up. quick to come up with an excuse to see a doctor at his age, he decided to "make an appointment to have his colon tested".

the scottish accent made me double-take.

eat your pineapple derek.

Sistine Sound Wall

2009-05-07T15:40:00.001-07:00

last year i taught at my company's saturday school in edendale, a 'disadvantaged' area of pietermaritzburg. paul and kate, in addition to seeing what schools look like just a few kilometers from city central, were able to see me stumble my way through almost three hours of lessons in chemistry and drafting (draughting). when my parents came out i somehow managed to time it such that my dad, a retired chemistry teacher, taught the review session the weekend before the nationwide matric exams in the chemistry subject. two stones etc.

but enough of the beautiful stories about americans making the world a better place one lewis dot diagram at a time...

edendale is an area that travel agents put a big pink highlighter 'X' through because travel agents just assume that nobody wants to see goats, chickens and cows wandering between mud shacks and metal crates used to cell airtime. or if they did want to see it they would have just driven to mexico.

a newly built two-bedroom house in edendale (with running water, toilets and electricity) starts at R 220,000. less than many a mid-sized automobile. there are only three problems:

1.) you won't get a lot of your coworkers visiting you.
2.) there's no freeway access
3.) when there isn't enough water or electricity to go around in pmb, edendale is typically the first to be cut off from either or both. we're talking days at a time without being able to flush your toilet.

on the plus side, there just may be a thriving art scene. below please find some of the murals on the wall facing the entrance to edendale's sukuma primary chool.

Sign Language

2009-05-07T15:12:00.001-07:00

if someone told me that an average american speaks 0.75 languages i wouldn't argue. i speak only english which i think makes me either;

'unilingual',
'monolingual',
'cylingual' (greek?),
or just plain ol' lingual.

but if i think that i'm so masterful with the english language how come i can't i summon the word that comes two words before bilingual?

sublingual?
millilingual?
unlingual?
keanulingual?

so i guess i should feel bad being cylingual and making fun of all the spelling and grammatical errors i see all around me here in a country with eleven national languages... some of which i can't even pronounce still. but i won't let feelings get in the way. i simply must share some of the gems i stumble across.

in this case, the 'good thing' that you can't get to is the toilet.

just like the 'loose a turn' in the film 'office space'

when i went to use the other door, it too became close.

I Have a Tender Opening

2009-05-07T14:57:00.001-07:00

i know every professional has it's own dirty-but-accepted terms... well, actually i really only know the ones in structural engineering

- erection stages
- stiff member
- jacking force
- butt tight

and so on.

well my job responsibilities have brought me face to face with my new favourite expression in my line of work. yesterday i got to tell our receptionist as i walked out the front door that there was "a tender opening across town that needed my urgent attention".

so i guess after that it's all downhill from here...

anybody got any more to cheer me up?

300 Kilograms

2009-05-07T14:36:00.001-07:00

Nate, Jon and Pecos of '300 pounds' have returned from their tour in the southlands. from where i'm sitting it still looks north. maybe slightly less north.

the question on everyone's lips here in south africa is: why haven't '300 pounds' brought their licks here to the cradle of humanity? to rock the cradle so to speak... well, one thing stands in the way kids, if you want to be an international rock star you can't limit yourself by naming your band with just metric or just imperial units.

tips for international band names that aren't limited to just certain parts of the world:

minus zero kelvin
the light years
ton(ne)s o fun
smoots' one feat

i guess if you're a hard rock / metal band you can walk the razor's edge with names like 'dragonforce' (ambiguous units) and 'dream theater' (cinema or theatre in most parts of the world). just ask trent reznor next time you see him.

Oh, What On Earth Shall I Delaware?

2009-05-07T13:48:00.001-07:00

i'll be the first to admit that i'm a little out of touch with what the celebs are wearing on the red carpet in hollywood these days. but thanks to an easter package that arrived the other day from justin and marissa i think i can safely assume they're all wearing t-shirts with fish on the front.

what a great shirt. i get jealous of the hanger when i'm not wearing it.

in what can only be assumed to be a part of their further baby-proofing their house, they mailed me a box of peeps and gag-flavored jelly beans. and thanks to the contents of their package, those of you that have been wondering if it's possible to mail me food, the answer is now a conclusive: 'that depends'.

so with the peeps out of the house, there is now room at the swett house for their second child... sigh... and it seems like just yesterday we were dragging marissa to go see 'children of men' and asking 'who could conceive such an idea?'

justin, you said you like the short blog entries. i can't imagine writing a shorter one than this one. oh wait, i have an idea...

Cosmic Bitch Slap

2009-04-29T15:41:00.001-07:00

30 months ago when i signed the papers to come out here i don't think it ever crossed my puny little mind that when i applied for tickets for world cup phase one i would be denied on all counts. well, that's what just happened. a cosmic bitch slap two-and-a-half years in the making. my mom always said i'd believe in god someday when some beautiful miracle like the birth of a child occurred... well, it works both ways.
you know that greek guy that was punished by the gods by standing in a pool for all eternity with food and water that would forever recede from his reach when he tried to quench his thirst or hunger? his name was 'tantalus'. i feel like him but picture instead of a tree that magically moves away from me it's fifa.com's random ticket lotto system.

a classic tale retold.

by the way, it's from tantalus and that story about fifa.com that we get the word 'tantalize'. so now you know that if you meet someone at a bar and they tell you that the word tantalize was derived from a story involving them, they're lying to you.

by the way again, did you know that the word 'titilate' is derived from an allegorical story involving some tantalizing stuff yours truly did when he was in college..?

When Pigs Fly

2009-04-29T14:33:00.001-07:00

well, they said it would never happen but i hear there's a big deal about 'swine flu'.

in dissimilar but tangential news i finally made the connection between amelia earhart's rumoured past as a lesbian and the rumour that she disappeared into the bermuda TRIANGLE... it couldn't have been more obvious unless she disappeared over a rainbow.

Walking Under the Corporate Ladder

2009-04-18T12:51:00.000-07:00

without going into too much detail, since the last blog entry i've been busy (more on busy work to follow).

the stream of events sorta went like this:

- i stepped up to fill a vacant position as regional representative for ssi's 'young-ssi' (yssi). for every 10 full-time staff ssi has under 35, there serves a rep to look after their needs etc.
- i was informed that i'd passed my master's diploma comprehensive exam.
- i was then elected to serve as a 'maverick'. for every region (mine is kwazulu-natal inland) the reps have a maverick to serve as their representative to the maverick council.
- i was then nominated and accepted for the position of associate within ssi. if you've seen the episode the simpsons where homer grows hair and gets fast-tracked, this is ironically the reverse... my hair has begun leaping of the top of my head.
- yesterday i again was asked to step up to fill a vacancy as one of the top four mavericks to represent the mavericks at executive meetings. the joke is that there's one other american in the whole of ssi and she's one of the other three top mavericks. her name is erin and she's up in gauteng. during our monthly teleconference calls she's the one i understand the easiest.

Good News For Whatever Ales You

2009-04-18T12:42:00.000-07:00

in one of the most exciting developments in the curbing of my homesickness i was made aware of a young upstart named stuart robson who lives about 45 minutes from me on the way to durban. not too long ago stuart moved out here from england with his wife, young child and enough pounds to start a brewery in the valley of a thousand hills. for those of you that are familiar with the area, the valley of a thousand hills is an area looking to become a tourist destination similar to the midlands meander.

instead of being tucked between pmb and the uninhabited but beautiful drakensber, the valley of a thousand hills is tucked between pmb and the massively inhabited durban. the midlands meander is home to kzn's main microbrewery, 'nottingham road brewery' the maker of pretty much the only ale in kzn not counting boddingtons or kilkenny out of a can. unfortunately, some years ago, the founder of nottingham roads whistling weasel ale kicket the bucket and left only the equipment and an 8.5x11 sheet of paper with the process written on it. the beer is now brewed in the midlands in a 'paint-by-number' fashion and tastes as such.

on the other hand, stuart robson seems to be a super-taster with not only a clinical knowledge of brewing beer but a sense of adventure in brewing that i haven't seen since Nili's hibiscus beer. stuart brews many a beer, one of which is modeled after californian makes of beer. it's not the greatest seller because it's miles different from the common south african beer but to me it's the greatest reminder of home that i've found over here.

and as if stuart hasn't done enough already, he's now developing his brewing grounds into a venue for hosting outdoor music shows. i went to one of his events. pure heaven. the stage is on a hill overlooking the lights of durban, behind you a little bar sells his line of beers and to top it off a catering table sells spicy bunny chows if you get peckish.

one of the bands playing that night was a south african act 'stealing love jones' (not be confused with martini-lounge band 'love jones') who gets regular spin on south african radio stations here. popular enough that they're now living in southern california peddling her music to all you guys. when i bought some of their music i handed the rands to the lead singer (esjay). the manager (read: handler) then flew in and said, "you can't give the money to her, it has to come to me." "or it goes straight up her nose" i finished. esjay looked caught off guard and said, "who told you that about me?"

2010-Tative Plans

2009-04-18T12:14:00.000-07:00

Nobody reading this should be surprised that last month I applied for four tickets to four world 2010 matches (16 tickets total). the plan is to try to follow the USA through their first three group stage matches and then their first elimination match. the draw for the tickets was held a few days ago and we should have confirmation or heartbreak in the coming weeks. keep your fingers crossed for the four of us (Steve, Sean, Wrenna and me).

In a less nail-biting endeavor, i applied for and got tickets for the confederations cup taking place in a few months up in northern RSA. i've got the opening match of South Africa (Bafana Bafana) against Iraq and then the next day USA plays Italy. it'll be a nice preview for me of the USA national team seeing as they don't show the american qualifying matches over here.

speaking of the 'axis of evil' and 'soccer'...

the last thought on fifa will be this: some months ago when they televised the 2010 qualifying draw in durban there was nervous chuckling when south korea was drawn into the same group as north korea. the group also has saudi arabia, iran and the UAE which has prompted me to inappropriately name this 'asia group 2' as the first 'group of death'.

is this thing on? hello?

anyhoo, there is a decent chance that the saudis will finish second best to kim jong il's squad and we'll see both the koreas here in south africa. if it's wrong to root for north korea, i don't want to be right.

Nukèd Chef

2008-09-15T12:31:00.000-07:00

after 31 years of almost every woman in my life trying to convince me to learn how to cook, i've decided, of my own accord, to learn. and by 'learn' i mean 'experiment' with cooking ingredients.
since arriving in south africa the majority of my evening meals have consisted of the following:
-ordering pizza, salads and chicken burgers from "pizza chicken/perfect",
-toast with chicken liver paté,
-various cheeses,
-sardines and clams, and
-caramel rice crispies
you might say it's exactly how i would have eaten in the states if it hadn't been for trader joe's and costco. the one new addition being a discovered fondness for chicken liver paté in all its variety (peri-peri, brandy, and bacon).
the "all in one" cookbook, a 30th or 31st birthday present from my mother, has been staring at me accusingly for the past several months (or years) and the book's slant on "quick and easy" has added to the guilt i feel every time i throw two slices into the toaster and pour myself a glass of fine port wine.
so about a month ago i found a recipe i liked, made a list and went to pick n' pay to buy the ingredients. i think it was supposed to be a rice and beef stew. several hours later my kitchen looked like a murder scene (beef fat and bones everywhere) mixed with a wedding scene (rice everywhere). it shouldn't surprise anyone that i managed to burn both pots of stew resulting in a week's worth of slop that tasted like cigarette butts. it also shouldn't surprise anyone that i put it all in tupperware containers and proceeded to eat all of it over the next ten days.
i learned that me cooking on my little toaster hot plates is a handicap akin to a legless man playing soccer blindfolded.
the lesson learned from the burnt food was that i should buy a slow-cooker. so i did and i set out to make the same beef stew sans the smoke and ash marinade. this time the rice soaked up all the juices and expanded to point where it lifted the lid off the cooker by a quarter of an inch (~8mm). it was a sloppy mess of gooey beefy mess. all the broth was in the rice. it took me another 10 days or so to polish this mess off...
when i ran to work with it, it was so dense that my arm got tired and i had to constantly switch the hand i was using to carry it.
i won't even tell you about the chicken soup except that it would not go away...
then one night in an unexpected about face with the trusty slow-cooker i decided that i should learn to cook indian food. the only hard part about the spices in this country is navigating the massive selection everywhere you go. paul and kate saw the spice stores in durban. it's like a candy store but with baskets overfilled with every shade of spice from bright yellow to bright red.
indian food and i turned out to be lucky match. in fact, the ladies at work flat out refused to believe that i'd made the curry i had with me. i lied and said that i'd gone online and googled "how to cook potatoes so's they're really soft". truth is a coworker gave me a quick how-to and i just paid very very close attention and then applied what i learned to my chicken curry. now i just need to learn how to eat it properly; without silverware.
the only problem i'm now faced with is that all the myriad spices, leaves, sticks etc. are taking up a lot of space in my tiny little flat and its tiny little kitchen. this leads into my next entry: i'm moving.

(Anthony's Song)

when my old company, BCP, got bought by SSI earlier this year it was announced that there was gonna be some rearrangement of desks in the immediate future and in the long-term a new office block was going to be built in the newly established victoria country club (the vcc). naturally this new location is in a more upscale neighborhood (convenient for the more upscale directors who've had long commutes to get to work at our offices in town or in mkondeni) and this would translate into one hell of a morning run from my present residence.
after another run with drew a few weeks ago (this time the capital climb, a 15k run that is 7km of pure straight uphill followed by a knee-crushing 7km of downhill flailing) he mentioned that his parents' rental unit in athlone within walking distance of our new offices might be opening up soon.
i went and checked it out. it has a bigger kitchen, better parking, it's better suited for guests, and i can hang out with drew's parents and learn lots of embarrassing stories about him.
i'll be moving in the first week of october. come visit.

"love your friends and miss them when they go"

that's a line from a jonathan coulton song "a talk with george". when i first heard it i nonchalantly equated its message to shane macgowan's "we watched our friends grow up together / and watched them as they fell / some of them fell into heaven / some of them fell into hell" but after paul's visit i realized it's not about life and death, it's just about life and change.
paul's eye is firmly set on the east coast and the thought of him leaving the santa cruz area gave me a heavy heart. far more heavy than i felt to take a job in africa. i realized his leaving is more symbolic than anything else. he's actually moving two timezones closer to me. but now california isn't the one-stop-shop for friends anymore.
so this is me saying to everyone out there that i miss all of you more than i've been able to express. more than i will be able to express. i always knew what i'd be leaving behind and maybe it didn't seem like i valued it enough seeing as i had no idea what i was trading it all in for.
as a one-two punch i then found it tough to say goodbye to paul and kate as they left to board their plane back home. us guys aren't typically blessed with both the ability and courage to really say a heartfelt goodbye and it's never more of a shame than at an airport.
despite the content of the last three paragraphs, paul and kate's visit in no way resembled a hallmark channel estrogenerational special (dibs on coining that term). it was the usual madness that anyone that knows paul and i would expect. kate was a real sport to be come along on a reunion tour for two friends that have been tight friends for well over a decade.
some highlights of the trip include:
paul meeting some giant turtles
trying to act brave in front of rhinos in cape vidal (st. lucia)
kate catching a firefly
giraffes, elephants etc at hluhluwe
acting stupid in front of a hippo at mlilwane
buying, cutting and overeating sugar cane
kate's ambien (see pictures for further detail)
please, if you're planning on coming out to visit me someday, check out the pictures i've put online. they were taken by all three of us and the best of them are up with the necessary captions.

Feeling SAACE

The south african association of consulting engineers (SAACE) hosts an annual relay race event in pretoria (just outside joburg) every year. last year and this year, the event is hosted by none other than SSI. so it's an opportunity for us to show all of our competitors our ability to host a fun event but also try to show them up with our physical running and biking prowess.
it's not uncommon for ssi to have a little tent at an event like this where there's a braai and beer for all those that participate and come out to support. but this year, because SSI were the hosts, we went sick with it. and to increase SSI's presence, pmb got to fly out our eight fastest runners to form a pmb rep. team. in the end we just sent the only five people in pmb who thought they could run 4km and a cape towner who happened to be in pretoria for work. she and our comrade's runner, dave, ran two legs each.
last year ssi pmb was the fastest ssi team and finished tenth out of several dozen teams. this year we were still the fastest ssi team but finished 20th overall.
for those of you wondering how 'fast' i ran my 4km. the answer is 17:45. that's a 7.25 minute mile. the time i ran should clearly reflect the fun we all had as a team... leslie (our team's fit "senior" runner) and i went to sleep with more than our share of wine and beer as caloric. today we discussed the idea of not drinking before a run and laughed it off as 'not worth it'. i argue that my lap time was positively influenced by my drive to get back to my beer before it got too warm.

Feeling Sassy

speaking of running, i'm currently hobbled with an ankle injury.
my run to work usually sees a handful of coworkers driving past and hooting. that's usually about the highlight of my run (not counting me chuckling to "the areas of my expertise" by john hodgeman {with musical accompaniment by jonathan coulton}). but a week ago on the run in who should be standing on the side of the road waiting for her ride but the young blond temp, noelene, who's been brought in to help with the archiving ahead of the big move to vcc. i slowed down to offer her a (piggy-back) ride to work but she declined. her loss. probably would've been tough making it up the two main hills with her anyway. she and her ride passed me just as i was getting to the gate.
however, today i saw her again waiting and thought i would pass her and get to work before she and her ride could pass me. i was carrying my curry with me and when i handed it to her she instinctively (and foolishly) stuck out her hands and confused took it from me. with my hands free i took off down the hill at a quickened pace (mostly to impress noelene) and about 50 meters later turned my ankle so hard that i felt it in my armpit. you know that pain when you can't stand on it and it hurts just as much to lift it? well, i waited until my adrenaline kicked in (pun intended) and ran the rest of the way to work trying to ignore the weird dull thudding pain. luckily the hobo names 100-200 and 500-600 served a strong distraction from the pain.

#143 robert fits-in-a-case
#172 microfiche roy the sidescroller
#587 don domasino deshithebed

Kicking a good habit

the epl (english premier league) and psl (south africa's premier soccer league) have started anew. on saturday i stopped into the city royal hotel to watch liverpool walk all over defending champions manchester united. in a similar vein, pietermaritzburg's local team (just returned from relegation) gave the most popular team in the psl (the same kaiser chiefs that paul and kate and i watched take on manchester united at king's park stadium last monght) with a convincing 3-2 whomping.
i've heard that with pmb united's promotion they've gone out and bought an american goalkeeper and he started off his time here by blocking a p.k. so now south africa has two americans on the big stage, the second being the evening weatherman for the e-channel news.

MR. CALIFORNIA

2008-02-17T09:33:00.000-08:00

SSI's saturday school started this last saturday. for those of you who don't know, SSI, the company that bought my old company BCP, has a forward thinking CEO that, in the interest of developing future engineers, has organized, at SSI's own expense, a saturday school for underpriveledged students. the three subjects covered are maths, physical sciences, and engineering and drafting. the teachers are volunteers from SSI and now BCP.
i'd hoped to teach math (known as 'maths' here) but instead got stuck teaching physical sciences and e.g.d. (engineering and graphic design). i've since learned that i've never taken the actual coursework for e.g.d. god knows how i'm gonna teach it for 80 minutes this coming saturday. i will say this though, the physics textbook is unique to south africa. i'll include some pictures of the problems when they finally give me a textbook. i'm signed on to teach two saturdays a month for the next year. when i first got to this country i contacted habitat for humanity and enquired about helping out. they said they don't work on weekends. until this saturday school opportunity came along, i felt that i would have to quit my job to do something charitable in this country.
about the students at this saturday school; seeing them takes me back to my own youth. "does 0.2844445 round up to 0.285?" i took joelene with me to the first introductory day. i'd heard that i would be given a nickname by the kids in zulu that i wouldn't learn. so joelene was brought to be a spy and to, and this sounds messed up, show the kids one of their teachers has a coloured girlfriend. joelene echoed my sentiments when she said seeing the two of us together would probably gain more respect from the kids. i think i'm gonna need all the help i can get.
when the first of the kids rocked up, they approached joelene first. she greeted them, "sowebona" and they answered, "um, we're good. fine. punjane. is this SSI's saturday school?"

and yes, joelene is back in my life. all the coworkers that said we would get back together were right. i hate being wrong but the healing process for me and the relationship was stuck in limbo. a quick summary would be that i contacted her under the pretense that we should try to be friends again. just friends. i thought i would be able to maintain the boundaries but i'm a sucker for that girl. this blog isn't a forum for my mushy feelings so if you want to hear about all the romance and gushy stuff, you'll have to email or call me.
however, if you want a feeling for what my life was like in the interim, youtube hosts the fruits of my labors as a once again single guy here. it should be quite clear that i had a lot of free time on my hands.

the latest is that i've added sound to the cartoon i animated using fantavision back at uc davis
secondly, i created a complilation of my footage driving the INSANE roads of easter rsa, swaz, and mozambique.

luckily for me, with this new saturday school, my masters degree exam and joelene, my hands are back to being full.

I TRIED TO JUSTIFY THE GOTH SCENE...

2008-01-28T12:28:00.000-08:00

"...but the relevence was low."

now, as you know, i stay out of office politics. but lately i find that i'm being drawn inexorably inward. my ideas are being overlooked and it's damaging my megalomania. i'll give you latest example.

at the end of my last meeting with bruce, peter-from-roads stood in the doorway with basil and waited to ask bruce a question about drainage. y'see rainwater that falls on the bridge runs off to the sides where it is collected and runs away hidden in little pipes concealed in the parapet/barrier/balustrade. however, once the bridge ends, the water runs to the side of the road where a reinforced earth retaining wall sits with the barrier on the lip. adding scuppers here creates a problem because dumping water off the top of the retaining wall would be unsightly.

at this point i suggested my solution. and it was not only shot down but i think a few of my coworkers were laughing at my idea. here's the thing... it's not like this idea i proposed hasn't been in use for hundreds of years. engineers often forget that we don't always have to use solutions found in 'the latest' construction publications. a wise engineer draws also from history. i have many books on famous bridges and structures. my mind quickly remembered a simple solution to our scupper problem.

why don't we use gargoyles?

or cherubs?

sure it would require a little redesign to accomodate the gothic stacked stone pillars but many other successful bridges have incorporated gargoyles into their architecture. see the picture on the left. roebling seemlessly integrated the gargoyle shown into the gothic architecture of the brooklyn bridge.

my proposal is far more simple but, at the same time, very practical. i've modified the architect's impression of cornubia interchange 'ramp a' over 'link b' to reflect my vision.

WHY DO THEY RUN?

2008-01-28T12:15:00.000-08:00

"why not just turn yourself in to carousel and pray like hell for renewal?"

i've been running to work for well-nigh 8 months in a country where it rains practically every day and NOT ONCE have i run to work or home in the rain. seriously, it'll be torrential for five hours whilst i'm at my desk but come quittin' time... poof. i'm so overdue to get rained on that i'm expecting to run home on a sunny day and to have an alhambra water truck run me over.

and no, they don't have the 'alhambra' brand here.

speaking of running, the comrades is in only four or five months. so i've started to get serious, i.e. running on saturdays for distances greater than my three or four km to work. this last saturday, my coworker grant invited me over to help him extend the land for his horse stables at his house in hilton. in order to get my run in and help him out, i decided to combine the two and run to his house... 14 kilometers away. running tip: when running across town make sure your destination isn't called 'hilton' a derivative of the words "hill and town".

unless you're starting from somewhere called 'upper hilton'.

the map included shows a green line indicating my run to grant's and claire's. my usual run to work starts on the right and ending at the "t" in the "Pietermaritzburg". it has its ups and downs but starting at the "P" in "Pietermaritzburg", it's ALL UPHILL. steep enough that bicyclists come down it at around 50-60 kph.

from the SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL

2008-01-24T10:01:00.001-08:00

happy new year.

i’d wish everyone a happy 2008 but here in south africa we’ve woken up to a different year altogether. Eskom, the nation's power company, through a little lack of forethought, didn't think to build additional power plants for the additional people that were planning on both being born and using electricity. the paper today even went so far as to say that eskom encouraged local power companies to shut down their plants.

so the supposed year of 2008 has started here in south africa with much of africa watching their power turn off wherever they are during the day... then going home and having the power shut off again. luckily, i've just returned from a three week camping trip so it saved me the energy of having to pack away my (citronella) candles.

so i'm sure it's 2008 somewhere... but not here yet.

but to be fair, i learned on my three week camping trip, that south africa, whether or not it has made it to the year 2008, is way ahead of the rest of southern africa (maybe 2008 B.C.). this is based on my trip through swaziland and fairly deep into mozambique. i've put some pictures up online that sort of tell the story and document some of the more amazing sights and transpirings.

here're the pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/jonahptak/Mocambique

but did things worth mentioning happen that weren't captured on film? maybe. i'll bullet the stories and anecdotes for easy digestion.

- story one: for the drive back from inhambane i had acquired two travel companions from germany. johanna and juliana. juliana was in my 4-day open water scuba course. johanna was her sister. captured in the pictures online are parts of the ordeal of changing one's tyre in mozambique. directions to tyre shop: "drive 70 kilometers and you'll see a big orange sign on the right. the tyre shop is on the left. you can't miss it." johanna hit a pothole and blew the front left tyre one hour into the return trip. the trip there took me 2.5 days of solid driving with close to 8 hours of that spent driving well under the posted limits due to potholes. so it was disheartening that one hour into a 2.5 day drive we were using my space saver spare to get through the same terrain to get to a tyre shop.
but i learned my lesson: germans aren't meant to drive in africa. and it's not because of the reason i'm sure you're thinking. it has nothing to do with the audobahn. it has to to with german adherance to rules... adhering to the rules of the road has NO PLACE in africa. regardless of oncoming traffic, pedestrians or animals anywhere, you can drive anywhere. you're not driving in africa correctly unless oncoming traffic is flashing its brights and hooting at you. i've got some video of driving in moz. it looks like a scene from grand theft auto...

- story two: turns out that once the roads improved, the germans were big on catching up on their sleep. so i had lots of time to think about the road in front of me. southern swaz and northern south africa have tons of these yellow and white butterflies. judging by the fact that the yellow ones are always chasing the white ones, i've concluded that the yellow ones are the males. point is, these little butterflies are always flitting across the road in front of you. left alone with my thoughts i noticed two things. 1.) my little bean-shaped car feels like it's starting to lift off the road at 160kph, and 2.) that under 140kph the butterflies pass over my windscreen but over 140kph they smack into it with a little 'tic' and leave a smear.
when juliana woke up i felt like i should share my discovery. a few butterflies hit the windscreen to prove my point. and it wasn't more than ten minutes later that the point was really driven home when a medium-sized bird, with a very loud 'crack!' crashed right into the windscreen in front of juliana. i think we both saw the bird well before it made like a ricochet. this made it way worse. my soothing, parenting instincts activated and i immediately blurted, "i'm sure it's fine! glancing blow!" juliana countered that the two spatters of blood told a different story. and naturally the blood was in the small area of the windscreen that my windscreen wipers didn't reach.

- story three: on new year's eve i dove for a frisbee and totally destroyed my left shoulder. the left side of my head was numb for hours and i'd thought i'd damaged my collarbone. for two days i couldn't lift my arm or move it enough to take my shirt off. so i had to wear the same shirt for three days. this wouldn't have been so bad if i hadn't already been wearing the same shirt for three days before that. i was trying to conserve because i'd promised the girls that i'd try to have two clean shirts for the two days drive home.
on new years eve i popped three tylenol pm, the only drugs i brought with me not counting toothpaste and soap, and was almost unable to make dinner. i felt like i was moving through water. when the girls came to wake me up at 11:30 so i wouldn't sleep through new years i had no idea what was going on. the fireworks / pipe bombs that were going off all around were confusing me enough so i just went back to sleep.
and like i said, when i woke up, i'd traveled back in time to a land where there was no running water or electricity.

abracadabra! the magic of africa!

Nigger Balls

2007-12-01T09:23:00.000-08:00

in two weeks i'll be on the road headed to mocambique by way of st. lucia and swaziland. have tent, will travel. i'm quite nervous about dealing with the so-called "law enforcement" in mocambique. i've been told that at the border posts they will help themselves to any liquor i try to bring in. also, i've been told to bring an extra license. this is worrisome in that i don't have a license other than the one that i got at AAA where all the personal info is written in ball point pen. it's really a miracle that it got me through my first traffic infraction.

temperatures are expected to climb into the 40's (celcius). multiply that by 1.8 and add 32 and poof you've got good times. on the positive side, i expect the beer in mocambique to taste especially nice at these temperatures.

for those of you with a.d.d., here's the latest in bullet format:

- i've cut my hair. my attempt to see how long i could grow it ended in "too long". (see picture)
- i've seriously resumed my training for the comrades. ran for 90 minutes today through some SERIOUS hills.
- i play scrabble at lunch against the secretary in roads, ramona. i've never been so beaten in my life. and i can't blame my losses entirely on the fact that my american spellings aren't in their dictionaries over here (plow=plough, curb=kerb, etc.)
- the bcp field hockey team finished the season in last place (see picture)
- in the midlands, i just missed getting hailed on by golf-ball-sized hail.
- speaking of 'golf-ball-sized', one of those giant beatles with a horn flew into my flat. i've graduated to the next level in dealing with large insects. i wonder what could possibly come next...

one weird factoid i learned whilst booking all my accommodations is that it costs more for me to call swaziland and mocombique than it does to call the united states.

speaking of borderline interesting subjects, sandile, one of my young black coworkers down in city planning gave notice to take a higher paying job in a municipality up north a bit. the new job, i'm sure, will be paying him an assload of dough to basically scratch his ass until he retires. assuming he enjoys/tolerates firsthand experience with a sickeningly corrupt government (this coming from an american), he'll do fine. the point of this story is two-fold. sandile and i parted on bittersweet terms.

y'see last weekend was the 'end of the year holiday party'. the theme was rock and roll. the company hired a dance teacher to get us all to go through some swing dance moves. being dateless (the ONLY dateless person in the whole company), i got paired up with sandile. generously i volunteered to be the woman (he's taller) but my god if this guy couldn't get the 1-2-3-2-2-3-rock step thing down. so i dumped him and grabbed ramona (her date has back problems?). poor sandile stood there staring (heart-broken) knives at me whilst she and i jumped and jived.

the next week sandile came up to structures and somehow the conversation came up if i've ever called anyone a "nigger" before. i told him that, oddly enough, i'd used the n-word to get virgilio's friends attention when he was fall-over-get-thrown-out-of-club drunk after the office party. it had the desired effect on his drunk ass too.

sandile then says, "call me one"

what?! no thanks.

"c'mon" he says.

the thing about the n-word in south africa is that it doesn't have the venom that it has in the united states. south africa has its equivalent word. starts with a "k" but i don't know how to spell it... so i won't try.

apparently the n-word is such a non-word here that people in south africa grew up eating a candy called (get this) "nigger balls". they sound like gobstoppers from america except they (and i'm not making this up) start black and "change colors as you suck on them." here's an old folk song by an afrikaans musician that mentions nigger balls. i BEG you to download the 30 second sample. it'll also give you the best taste of what an afrikaans accent sounds like.

i've also become accustomed to the accents here that if i hear an american accent (usually on the morning news) my ears perk up.

promptly changing gears, joelene and i broke up for good a few weeks ago and it's left me with plenty of spare time on my hands. my creative juices are now flowing and the fruits of my labour are either on youtube or are forthcoming. the bad news is that it has been brought to my attention (by scott anderson the maker of fantavision no less) that there is someone else out there in the world who is still creating works with fantavision. an older version of fantavision no less. and he's far more skilled with it than i. check this shit out. http://youtube.com/watch?v=9PAkjzZQvOY

there's no way i can top that. should i fall on my sword?

THINGS ARE LOOKING UP IN SOUTH AFRICA

2007-10-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

last weekend was our weekend in durban. on our way to the food faire, joelene remarks, "i wonder what everyone is looking at" i hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary but when we drove by a second time (we were lost) it was clear that a large group of people was craning their collective necks.

"i wonder what everyone is looking at" i remarked.

we pulled over. about a dozen or so floors up an old apartment building that had some time ago caught blaze, there was a man, in essence, standing on the ledge. to be exact there was no ledge. he was supporting himself like koozko and whatsisname in the emperor's new groove.

i took a few pictures and wrote some koombi names down that i'd seen in the area. one was "dogg poundz: known by many, loved by few, feared by all". the crowd grew and shortly after joelene and i wondered aloud if it was wrong for us to be parked and staring, apparently waiting for the next step (pun intended), we heard someone shout "jump!". it kind of answered the question but definitely made us feel better. i noticed that the car dealership next door was pumping billy joel's "i guess that's why they call it the blues" beautifully understated.

too bad they weren't playing
bette midler's "wind beneath my wings"
kriss kross' "jump"
house of pain "jump around"
sugar ray "i just wanna fly"
natalie imbruglia(?)'s "i'm like a bird"
van halen's "jump"
diana ross' "jump for my love"

we were on a good roll. we also took the time to ask directions to the food fair. there we drank wine by the glass, somehow paying less than it would cost from a bottle store. durban's sister cities had a booth where they were giving out samples of food from their home town's. seafood gumbo from new orleans and fried rice from... somewhere in china.

somewhere during the evening i asked joelene a question i ask her quite frequently. "what's wrong with that guy?" i don't have to point because it's usually pretty clear who i'm asking about. "advanced stages of leprosy" she answered immediately.

"seeing leprosy makes my skin crawl."
"that makes two of you."

it was the second case of it i'd seen since arriving. the first case i didn't know what i was looking at but i did notice the gentleman was missing his left arm.

one more rarity that day was that we saw two mixed race couples and only one albino.

on to business.

the following monday it was announced at tea that bcp had accepted an offer from a large international (ssi/dhv) company to merge / be absorbed. so we're going from being one of the larger civil engineering firms in kwazulu natal province to one of the larger civil engineering firms in south africa and hence southern africa. apparently they also have international offices in europe. holland if i heard correctly. maybe i'll design a windmill before i die.

so that's the big buzz. joining forces opens bcp engineers up to working on projects that we simply weren't considered able to bid on in the past. one huge project we tried valliantly for but came third on was won by ssi. they have single projects larger than what we worked on in an entire year. but they want to be bigger and bcp has a great reputation and lots of contacts so it should be mutually beneficial. especially for the younger engineers such as grant, andrew and myself. especially for the less encumbered younger engineers such as just me. so i'm 'holding thumbs' as the candy bars here exclaim.

in summary: ten years ago i was hired by a company with three employees. 12 months ago it had grown 66% to five employess. it then lost 20% of it's staff when i left to join bcp, a company with about 90 employees. six months later it is now being incorporated into another south african firm with several hundred employees. it's exponential growth. at this rate by the time i retire, my company will employ 60% of all living organisms on earth.

here is a list of the koombi names i saw around durban last weekend:

just cruising
motivation
snow lady
menace 2 society
q.t. pi
kaycee
dogg pound
players (sexy)
smooth
metro vibe
theater of dreams
united passion
london boyz
d.p.g. style - big hound in the pound
slo-jam
just another cute and sexy plaything

and my two favorites:

pimp aftermath
&
wicked arab

OVERWHELMING, IS IT NOT?

2007-10-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

it's thursday now. after yizkor i broke the fast with the lipschitz family. they were beyond nice and i stuffed myself with every manner of fish. gefilte, lox, and mackerel i think. i stayed late watching the semis of the t20 cricket world cup (taking place a few kilometers away) between champions australia and india. i drove back to pmb, got my running stuff together, drove to joelene's and set my alarm for 03:20. you have four hours, my phone told me, until your alarm time.

moments later it was 3:20. half an hour later, joelene and i were out of bed and hitting the road for durban again. knowing that i probably couldn't keep it, i promised that if joelene drove there, i would drive back. my nerves were acting up. my 1/5 odds of finishing this race were feeling very optimistic. i felt maybe 1/1,000,000 now.
when we arrived at kings park i looked around and felt out of place. i'd bought a water belt and a bunch of gu. nobody i saw around had one. i left it all in the car. i did decide to take the cellphone with douglas adams and i made my way to the start line.
not taking any gu with me turned out to be a MAJOR mistake. every 5km or so there were stations but all they had was water and... COKE. before i knew i'd made a mistake i'd realized that a group of ten runners, one with a flag strapped to his head, were passing me and getting passed every several minutes. eventually they explained they were running at the exact pace to qualify for comrades and i should join them. eventually i fell in, weary that if i should have to take a break, i would fall behind the pace. i wanted to stay a little ahead.
didn't matter. at kilometer 18 or so, my calves started tightening up and by 26 i said farewell to the two remaining runners in the group and walked... nay hobbled back to the car. if i'd signed up for the half marathon instead of the full, i'd have earned a medal too. c'est la vie.

One's a Cunning Runt...

2007-09-28T02:22:00.000-07:00

i'm sitting in the durban botanical gardens as i write this. ducklings are swimming in the pond and numerous brides and their grooms are wandering the grounds with a throng of best men, bridesmaids and photographers. It's four hours until yizkor services start so i'm lost and found in contemplation.
tomorrow is my first attempt at a marathon and i'm getting nervous. i've loaded onto my cellphone the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy and the restaurant at the end of the universe both read by douglas adams himself. any bets which will die first? me or my battery. if my battery dies first it's gonna be a boring run. if i die, know that i died doing what i love: clutching my chest and bleeding from my ears.
but seriously folks, wish me luck. i'll need it. especially now that i know there are other qualifiers for the comrades that are accessible. giving up is now an option... I learned this when i joined the required running club so that i could get a license number and bib number. so i'm now a member of the 'the collegians harriers' running club. the exact opposite of what i set out to do. i hate running for the sake of running. i use marathons and triathlons as litmus tests for my lifestyle. should i eat less pizza? drink less beer? smoke fewer cigars? if i can complete a half iron man still, i'll assume i'm doing ok.
there's a yellow-greenish bird above me in a tree that looks like a flying tennis ball. the tree in the picture shown on this page is full of their bulbous nests.
temple services have been nice so far. joelene found me a reform synagogue in durban. lots of hebrew but lots of the prayers i'm familiar with. the rabbi, rabbi avidan, has a melodic tone to his speech and, maybe because he's relatively new to this congregation, his sermons don't try to be topical or esoteric. i've enjoyed his sermons in much the same way a math nerd such as myself loved that math program (produced by caltech i think) that explained geometry through trig through calculus. looking at the foundations and basic principles that you already are familiar with but this time through a microscope.
after the kol nidrei service i approached the bima to speak to rabbi avidan. he was welcoming three students from america. one of them was from palo alto. the other two were from new york. "JEWS FROM NEW YORK?!" i also asked him for copies of his sermons. on the backs of which i'm writing this. in his office he noticed me looking at some photos on the wall. "that's me with richard gere". in the movie "king david" a young rabbi avidan went from being religious consultant to the film to stand in for a bit part. he also shared a story with me and a friend of his, once their wives had walked ahead a bit, about the time he got a tick on his left testicle. i swear i only sort of directed conversation in that direction.

it's thursday now. after yizkor i broke the fast with the lipschitz family. they were beyond nice and i stuffed myself with every manner of fish. gefilte, lox, and mackerel i think. i stayed late watching the semis of the t20 cricket world cup (taking place a few kilometers away) between champions australia and india. i drove back to pmb, got my running stuff together, drove to joelene's and set my alarm for 03:20. you have four hours, my phone told me, until your alarm time.

moments later it was 3:20. half and hour later, joelene and i were out of bed and hitting the road for durban again. knowing that i probably couldn't keep it, i promised that if joelene drove there, i would drive back. my nerves were acting up. my 1/5 odds of finishing this race were feeling very optimistic. i felt maybe 1/1,000,000 now.
when we arrived at kings park i looked around and felt out of place. i'd bought a water belt and a bunch of gu. nobody i saw around had one. i left it all in the car. i did decide to take the cellphone with douglas adams and i made my way to the start line.

not taking any gu with me turned out to be a MAJOR mistake. every 5km or so there were stations but all they had was water and... COKE!!!

i know that gatorade's slant was "puts back what you lose when you exercise". i guess that when one exercises, they exhale carbon dioxide but i'm not sure i need to drink coke to replenish that. i usually just belched most of it back out a few steps later. beer would have been better.

before i knew i'd made a mistake i'd realized that a group of ten runners, one with a flag strapped to his head, were swapping positions every several minutes. eventually they explained they were running at the exact pace to qualify for comrades (5:00 hours) and i should join them. eventually i fell in, weary that if i should have to take a break, i would fall behind the pace. i wanted to stay a little ahead.

didn't matter. at kilometer 18 or so, my calves started tightening up and by 26 i said farewell to the two remaining runners in the group and walked... nay hobbled, back to the car. joelene hugged and kissed me and told me she was proud of me. she'd finished her 10km in sixty minutes and earned a medal. if i'd signed up for the half marathon instead of the full, i'd have earned a medal too.

c'est la vie.

joke: "what's the difference between a toned goy and an atoned jew running a marathon?" "one's running faster and the other's a fasting runner". i think i made that one up just now. pertinent to any and all marathons that take place during the high holy days.

joelene nursed my frail body until i was good enough to freely move around the house again.
i felt like my lower body had been run over by an 18-wheeler. so i guess i learned a lot about what i should do next time to stand a better chance:
a.) don't fast the day before,
b.) take gu with me,
c.) put phone in 'offline' mode so incoming messages don't crash the audio book,
d.) get plenty of sleep the night before, and
e.) train.
the only things i did right were
a.) listen to douglas adams as a distraction from the monotany and pain, and
b.) stop before i hurt myself.

to conclude, joelene and i hired the film "wonderland" a few weeks ago. it dramatically chronicles the murders in los angeles that allegedly involve porn star king, john holmes. turns out south africa had their own version of john holmes just a century earlier... here's the wikipedia article on "saartje baartman". it's quite sobering as to the exploitative (human) nature of yesteryear's english society so don't read it if you're not ready for something heavy.

lastly, tune in for the next blog entry where i explore my first interaction as well as my first "altercation" with south african law enforcement. it was everything i was told it would be.

The Seven Month Itch

2007-09-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

Well it took me until my seventh month here but i finally jumped into a soccer game.

backstory!

in one week i run my first marathon. as mentioned in the previous entry, this race in durban is the only realistic qualifier for the comrades marathon (south africa's double marathon). so if i want to run the comrades in 10 months, i need to finish this marathon in under five hours... or thereabouts. so i've been training in earnest for almost one week now. i've bumped up my run to work once a week regimen to run to work four days a week and i'm now running from joelene's place... a distance thrice or quadrice the distance as the run from my place in scottsville.

but still that's not enough to get me ready for the 42.2km run so extreme times call for extreme measures. again, anyone that knows me knows that i hate running and biking unless i'm going somewhere (e.g. work, grocery store, soccer game, etc.) or chasing a ball. running laps around some fields somewhere. so deciding to run laps was a painful and boring decision. so joelene took me to a nice group of fields she thought would work nicely and, lo and behold, there're a group of kids (white) kicking a soccer ball around on some field hockey fields. i started running laps and, when the opportunity was there, would watch the loosely organized games.

about 40 minutes into my run, a second game started up with about eight colored kids. after an hour into my run a second group, indian, showed up and challenged the first group to a pickup match. at this point i was taking a water break and stretching my calves. i ran a few more laps and decided i would ask if i could jump in.

now bear in mind that when we play pickup in the states, hopefully everyone brings a light and dark shirt to differentiate teams. here, where it was blacks and coloreds versus the equally dark skinned indians, there was confusion over what to do with the white player. i was wearing my "the nothing" jersey with 'dangerman' on the back so it took me a second to figure out why the goalie was shouting to his teammates with hands raised in confusion, "white! white?"

i played defense because, to be quite honest, it didn't seem like anyone really had a grasp of the concept. i was flattered 20 minutes later when the goalie explained to me that aside from being called 'dangerman' i was being described as "a rock". shucks...

the scene got even weirder when a legitimate maritzburg team, "the finishers" showed up in their matching equipment, shin guards, soccer shoes, and goalie gloves and challenged us to a game. ten minutes into the game, only the rag-tag bunch of us had managed a handful of shots on goal. when i left, we were up 1 to 0.

so i now know where to play soccer. i think that leaves refried beans and ice cream sandwiches. i guess now that i can take soccer off the list i can replace it with something else i wish i could find over here: sardines in pesto.

next subject: it took me this long to remember whilst writing the blog that there's a pizza joint here called "st. elmo's pizza" and, yes, it is wood fired.

next subject again: i thought it would be nice for joelene to come watch the croquet scene. maybe slowly ease her into joining me and i'd have some company. not that i mind kicking it for three hours with the coffin-dodgers of the pmb croquet club but let's be honest, last week when one guy, mike, got a little rusk in his windpipe and started coughing i realized that half the club was having some sort of fit or another. i didn't know what to do. shame. they're super nice people and they can kick my ass at croquet so i shouldn't take my frustrations out on them.

and to show how nice they are at the club, they convinced joelene to play a round. ed and me versus joelene and tim. tim and joelene won, with joelene potting the last shot. the girl, a natural competitor, was ecstatic. imagine my surprise when she would consistently send the ball all the way across the pitch to knock the opposing ball away from a gimme shot on the wicket. i'd ask, "how did you manage that shot?" and she'd say, "wasn't that what i was supposed to do?". funny girl. we won our third game too also in a golden wicket game (7-6). i'm sure we'll become regulars at the club. the term "regular" being used ultra-loose.

after croquet was church for joelene. her church has a scroll of the old testament and they often read translated passages from the old testament (with a christian angle naturally) so i figured this is a close as i'm gonna get to a synagogue in pmb during the high holy days. so i got some time alone with my prayers and meditations.

after the service i wanted to show joelene the scroll at the front of the church. as i approached it i wondered, "will it be in hebrew or will it be translated?" from a few meters out i noticed something peculiar: the text was left aligned. hebrew reads right to left so a left alignment led me to believe that, for some peculiar reason, this church had an english torah... or maybe latin. when i got even closer i noticed the second peculiar thing: the letters weren't of the greek or english alphabet. they were in fact the hebrew alef-bet. the reason for the left-alignment, if you haven't cracked the mystery yet:

THE SCROLLS ARE ON DISPLAY UPSIDE DOWN!

how rich is that? one of the top guys of the church approached joelene after noticing my interest in the scrolls. i politely told him what i'd noticed and we had a little chat. the church is truly a stunning place and having the scroll there just makes it even more beautiful. south africa has no shortage of beautiful churches. joelene has a keen interest in finding one of the synagogues in durban and experiencing a service sometime. i'm game... should be interesting.

will joelene be the only non-white? i explained that there's an ancient sect of judaism in ethiopia. "you lie!" she exclaimed.

well, next week will find me in durban for the marathon. wish me luck eh?

so anyway,l'shana tova or, if you're standing on your head, "avot anahs'l"

Tonga?

2007-09-17T22:52:00.000-07:00

the last few months have been me just living my life in south africa. nothing that I would exactly deem out of the ordinary enough to write home about. i'm still overjoyed to be seeing such a different life, perspective, etc. six months, maybe seven now, and the lustre of africa is still there. i wonder what's keeping this place so enjoyable to me...
three things methinks.
similarities between rsa and usa.
the crazy differences
new things
one thing that helps fight homesickness (and stomach sickness) is familiar foods. now those of you that know me and my... eating habits know i love my mexican food, pizza, carrot cake and ice cream sandwiches. this last week marks my finding carrot cake and carrot muffins. at a grocery store, woolworths, right down the street from my place.
exciting news, i know.
next are the differences that remind me i'm no longer in the granola-crunching town i've lived in most of my life.
today i walked home from work with joelene. at one point joelene tells me that there was a curse cast on the house coming up on the right. she'd noticed it whilst walking home the previous day. sure enough, in front of a house, butted up against the stone fence, was a dead chicken amongst some scattered debris. half a meter from the sidewalk.
a dead chicken wearing scraps of clothing scattered among a bunch of crap in front of a house means someone wants the resident of that house dead in 21 days. the process clearly smacks of voodoo.
awhile ago a similar curse was cast on joelene's mother, a saint. it must not have worked, seeing as mrs. singh still walks among us. joelene explained that the curse was broken by having a cleansing ritual carried out.
and now new things. i played croquet again. last time i played i watched the septuagenarians try these "bounce" shots when the opponent's balls were placed right in the wickets and couldn't be knocked out without knocking them through. you hit behind the ball at a 45 degree angle and the turf pops the ball up into the air. i tried it once this next time and, even though i never saw one of the triassics succeed at it, i somehow managed to sail one over the ball and through the wicket on my first try.
they made me submit to drug tests.
another new thing is finally understanding both the strategy AND the rules of rugby on a basic level. just in time for the world cup of rugby in france. usa, south africa, and england (the defending world cup champs) are in a bracket with samoa and tonga. tonga?
today i took a long lunch to watch usa play tonga. tonga? i figured it would usa's one chance to win. imagine my dismay when tonga (tonga?) scored a try in the second minute. long story short, the usa lost to a country (island) that i'd never heard of. i'm having flashbacks to germany 2006 when usa lost to that one country i can't remember. had the letter 'g' in it?
to semi end on a semi comical note, you might remember me talking about training for the comrades marathon (double marathon) which will take place in 11 months. i figured 11 eleven months will be enough time to slowly get into a serious work ethic and diet. i forgot one little thing. you have to qualify for the comrades via a small handful of qualifying races. one's in capetown and the other's in durban... IN TWO WEEKS! so i've got until the 22nd to get in good enough shape to run a 41km race (a full-marathon) in under 5.5 hours.
send ass lube!
and now to legitimately end on a legitimately comical note, i was wondering why americans are such war mongers. but then i realized, look at the foods and the brands behind them; general mills, colonel sanders, cap'n crunch, etc. d'ya see? all military figures.

zing!Publish Post

Yeah, Hi...

2007-09-06T04:16:00.000-07:00

if you haven’t seen the mike judge film “office space”, go rent it and consider yourself cultured on the subject of cubicle life. while never having worked in the cubicle environment, i've always found the film brilliant.

however, it wasn't until recently that i found myself relating to the film on a serious level. in a seriously bad way. a couple times a week i find myself walking into the draughtsmen room of the roads section and asking for work out of them.

bear in mind on monday i wore a nice tie and white shirt. I walked in and basically said, "(yeah) wesley, i'm gonna need (you to go ahead and make me) a long-section of ramp loop A. (that'd be great,) thanks."

i'm turning into bill lumberg. it's just a matter of time before i start saying the stuff in brackets...

about a month ago i received a phone call from the woman in charge of billing asking why i was using a durban job number (10844PE or something) for this one project instead of the correct number (10483PA). i'd already caught the problem for my next timesheet but this had been wrong for the past three months. i explained i'd picked up the problem and made the correction already.

then yesterday, the head director handed me a memo alerting all staff working on this one project that henceforth, all timesheets should stop using 10844PE and instead use 10482PA. i wanted to say, "at least i put the right cover letter on the TPS reports!"

now i'm just waiting for my red swingline stapler to disappear.

the head trip to work

2007-09-03T04:55:00.000-07:00

so my cousin amie ptak is back in the usa after a trip to build schools and teach english in tansania. she wrote extensively about her experiences in the deeper, more secluded we'll say, africa.

her experience was definitely more third-worldy whereas mine is maybe other-worldly. it's true i'm living in the beverly hills of africa and you might even go so far as to say i'm living in the los angeles of south africa. durban might be the san francisco and i've heard joburg described as the new york.

bear in mind that being the 'new york' of south africa doesn't mean lots of quaint jazz clubs, pretzel and hot dog stands on every corner and man dressed as a gorilla waiting to hug you on top of a building. and being the 'los angeles' of south africa doesn't mean taquirias, red carpets and 'pietermaritzburg' being prominently displayed in white letters on the surrounding hills. it just means sprawl. and sprawl means traffic. and traffic means pollution.

one misconception i may have fueled in my earlier blogs is that i live in an upscale, almost american, city. while true in some regards, i've elaborated at length and via pictures i've taken on my adjusting to the subtle differences and finding remnants of home (read: beer and cheese farms). it's easy to take pictures of the touristy and safe areas of pmb but the sketchier scenes don't often present the opportunity to pull out a camera.

amie's trip to tanzania was painted with a different brush than i've been painting this trip with. she talks about handing out shoes to children that have never seen a white person before. i've been been writing about joining a croquet club. so at the risk of offending any south african readers i'm going to try to paint with the same brush amie used to describe her trip.

ahem.

on the trip in to work from woodlands, joelene's side of town, we drive through a neighborhood consisting of two and three bedroom, one story houses. typical south african construction: brick with tile roof. usually one or two decent sized windows and a plaster finish with a recent paint job. the windows invariably have burglar bars over them and the property is lined with a fence usually fitted with some form of burglar prevention ranging from sharp spikes on top to the extreme of razor wire coils.

once i take a right and stop running parallel to the city of pbm, i roll down a hill overlooking the whole city. on a map and even from with the city itself, to me, it never looks a thing like it does from outside. scattered throughout are several multi-storey buildings but they don't create a sense of denseness. moreso a sense of legitimacy as the province's capitol. from afar the town center of pmb looks like it could take quite awhile to drive through seeing as no freeway runs through it but provided a steady flow to the traffic, one can pass through on commercial road, the busiest road through the center of town, or even speed along on one of the side streets.

but before i make it into the first road in the city center of pmb, i pass by a pocket of industrial factories. one road over is a more serious industrial area which, if you drive by with the windows down, will smell like the pet food it's turning out. while this industrial area may have once been technically outside of town, pietermaritzburg has grown out to meet it. pmb's poorest have taken advantage of the adjacent factories' impact on land value as well as a small river that passes by and created a squatter camp. of course the surrounding square miles of pmb contain dozens of such camps, this one is pushed up to within a few dozen meters of east street, the street that constitutes pmb central's eastern perimeter.

the houses are made of stolen corrugated metal panel and wood planks. some are identical to those you would find hundreds of kilometers away, far from a city like pietermaritzburg. a home built entirely from mud and stone with horizontal branches at six inch spacing running the perimeter to hold the walls together. laundry hangs from clotheslines endlessly and residents turn into pedestrians the moment they set foot outside their front doors.

sharing the road with me, and making frequent unannounced stops, is south africa's post-apartheid version of mass transit: the koombi. i've spoken about this already but this time i'll try to spare everyone the jaded perspective. imagine taking the aggressive driving tactics of new york taxi drivers, degregulating it, multiplying it by ten and then putting it behind the wheel of a squareback van. then mix in a little mexican lowrider look and you've got the koombi. the most extreme of which are bass-thumping, minivans with full-body paintjobs depicting american models in bikinis. the middle ground is a white van with some urbanized, quasi-ghetto expression painted in a pink or blue font with some silver glitter around the edges. unfortunately, most of these expression stick to my brain like an egg to teflon. think jonah...

"TOKYO DRIFT"
"IN MEMORY OF "
and my personal favorite:
"ONCE TASTED NEVER WASTED"

some even sport religious quotes, not necessarily biblical, but something an evangelical might spout on a television show. bear in mind that since routes aren't assigned by any governing metro body, territoriality does exist. conflicts between drivers are resolved with automatic weapons.

oops, looks like the jaded perspective crept in there at the end.

speaking of jaded though, i became unjaded this last weekend during a trip to the beach with joelene and her niece and nephew. as some of you may have heard from me, the beaches in durban stretch wide and far but swimming is only allowed in little 20 meter sections ever half kilometer or so where lifeguards sit and watch. the reason: riptides and strong currents. i thought it was just because 90% of the people in this country can't swim but it turns out the riptides are pretty serious.

i took the nephew pretty far out (on my back) and pretty quick found it difficult to paddle in. we were swept outside the 20 meter wide swath and we must have looked ridiculous enough to warrant a rescue with me walking along the bottom when i could and joelene's little nephew's head the only thing above the water after each wave. we were back in waist deep water by the time the life guard got to us but i learned my lesson: don't swim with children on your back.

there are PLENTY of stories that came out of that trip to the beach with joelene. the basic jist is that we looked like the proud parents of two children whose skin color didn't match that of their parents. she and i had a great time looking watching the kids throw themselves around in the shallow water and every now and then we even found time to steal ourselves a kiss. but by the end of the day, after we'd dropped the kids off back at her brother's place, we were too tired to even take off our clothes. "we ARE getting old" joelene remarked at one point.

so next chance i get to write, i'll relate the weird and funny stories about the beach trip.

in related news, at a company costume contest joelene won a weekend at a nice hotel in durban. so that'll be later this month. just the two of us. stories from that weekend might not be suitable for this family blog.

ahem.

As I'm Writing This I'm Eating a Chicken Liver Pizza

2007-07-14T10:14:00.000-07:00

...and i'm drinking an award-winner port... and listening to they might be giants... and improving my video editing knowledge through youtube. it's a koosh life.

speaking of getting my ass kicked by little old ladies, i set off this morning to find the one croquet club in maritzburg. i started by searching the web but, surprise surprise, croquet clubs don't advertise online. or anywhere. if you need them, you must find them yourself. in this sense, croquet clubs are like the a-team.

i decided to start the search at the bowls club (lawn bowling club) that i run/drive past on my way to work every morning. when i pulled in around 10:30 or so, the pitches ("rinks") were empty so i inquired with the first person i saw. the man was a tall 70 to 80 year-old named dobby who said bowling wouldn't start until later so i might as well come inside the clubhouse to watch the tri-nations rugby match about to start (s.a. springboks versus the new zealand all blacks). this building is basically the veterans memorial hall for pmb. inside was a nazi flag... captured perhaps? don't ask, don't tell.

after the rugby match ended, dobby took me outside to one of the pitches to roll a few. i wasn't dressed in the required white pants, shirt, hat and flat-bottomed shoes but they make exceptions when it's your first time. a little about the sport of bowls and how it's different from what some of us americans are used to, bocci ball:

bowls is played on grass,
bowls has no side boards,
the balls you roll aren't spherical and one side is heavier than the other. this means every ball rolled curves between one and three meters and, if thrown skillfully can come in almost sideways at the end (see posted video) on the picasa page.
the one thing that's not different is that i suck at bowls just as much as i suck at bocci ball.

after a few rounds, dobby took his leave and gave me directions to where he believed the croquet club was. behind another bowling club. pmb has five bowling clubs so whoever says that there's nothing for young people to do in this town is quite clearly overlooking bowls.

for any of you that have looked at the zoomed in satellite imagery of pmb, you've surely noticed a huge patch of green (or brown depending on the time of year the pictures were taken). this is a large area of parks, bowling greens, memorial gardens and even pmb's stadium where maritzburg united plays its home games. for some reason i've never ventured through this beautiful area. maybe it's because there's a cemetery right near the entrance.

this second bowling club is located in this pocket of green and instead of a meeting hall with a nazi flag, they had a meeting hall full of young women getting ready to celebrate a friend's baby shower. this club was self-described as having fewer "coffin dodgers" than the first one.

as senior citizens began to arrive in their traditional white pants, shirt, hat etc carrying a bag with their bowls and other equipment, i ordered a red pepper soup with basil and waited for the tournament to begin. and i waited.

eventually i started to feel self-conscious about being the only spectator so i went for a walk and stumbled upon the croquet club about to start a warm up game. even though i wasn't wearing the traditional white colors, they were insistent that i be the fourth player in the game they were about to start. the rules they were playing by were, not surprisingly, drastically different from those taught to me years ago by my dad (rules that i'm sure were tweaked significantly to pique the interest of a kid who could barely swing the mallet). the games were all doubles so i always had a teammate to let down with my inability to shoot a straight shot when it counted. part of the problem is that the mallets are some serious pieces of wood. much heavier than i'm used to and i realized i'm the type that adjusts my swing whilst i'm swinging. not easy to do with a 15 pound mallet.

so in addition to being well under half the median age, i was also the only person there to hit the ball "hockey style". it's a style that i was delicately suggested to consider changing over time. SCREW THAT!

one thing i should report is that doubles croquet involves a lot of malicious tactics. blasting opposing balls out of bounds constitutes close to a third of all the shots. constituting about half of the shots are little-old-grey-haired ladies. so you have little old ladies cursing each other with british accents. it's ADORABLE. also, the skill level there is amazing. the wicket openings are maybe 1.1 times the size of the ball you're using so even a straight on shot is tough, yet these ladies are rolling shots through from over 10 meters out. i missed a shot from about half a meter out. fifteen seconds later my ball was blasted out of bounds.

after i was exhausted from playing croquet, i watched a little bowls tournament in the centrum silver age category. the skill level is ridiculous. i shot a little video and it's up on the picasa webpage.

the bowls rinks are situated by not just the restaurant but the semi-adjoined bar. as i was leaving i saw a table-full of blokes producing pickled vegetables in super-hot chili-pepper oil. my accent landed me a place at the table and a glass of hansa pils. the next two hours were spent defending the sport of american football, my decision to come here (they were all celebrating their forthcoming emigration) and anything else they could come up with to complain about. lively to say the least. the bar was packed with blokes my age but none of them consider playing any of the croquet or bowls... shame.

i ended up leaving with a bellyful of beer and a jar of those chili oil vegetables. i had been sticking my fingers in there for the whole two hours and it made for a unique sensation when i went to take out my contacts later.

leaving the realm of what you may consider interesting subject matter, the following is a catch up of my life, my family in africa and my hobbies. for some reason not in that order.

firstly, when i'm not playing croquet, my copious amounts of spare time are being spent learning video editing skills for editing the cartoon i squeezed out in my first few months here. some of you know that i tracked down scott anderson, the creator of fantavision (the animation program from the early 80s that i use to animate) and told him about "into the night: the third coming" on youtube (with an inexplicable 2000 views and a four star rating). so hopefully the next project, "because they can..." will make him even more proud (and not get flagged on youtube for being sexually explicit). mom, dad... you're gonna be SO proud.

my cousin amie is still alive and well teaching english and cleaning up a little speck of africa for a village in tanzania. she's surviving snakes, the thornfeld and no television. compare and contrast her experience with mine. i'm drinking port and eating kfc (sometimes at the same time...). i also have a second cousin who, i believe, is on her way or will be on her way to sudan soon. here i was thinking i was a bad ass for moving to south africa and then i get shown up... BY MY OWN FAMILY!

shame...

i believe i'll have at least two more cousins in africa in early 2008 (david and robyn). they'll actually be in SOUTH AFRICA.

awesome...

nextly, the bad tie war at BCP engineers is over. bad-tie-war-refugees are returning to find their bad-tie-homes destroyed by strayed bad-tie-laser-guided bad-tie-missiles.

and speaking of work. work is still great. i'm under the gun on a few major projects. i've been working on a bridge portal (a beam with two legs that supports a road deck 6 meters off the ground). working in meters i never really had a sense of scale of this beast until thought about it and realized i could stand upright inside the beam. it's a big ass structure.

another project i'm working on had a guy come in and do the surveying with a set of laser thingamajigs. the result is a cad image that you can "fly" through. here's an image from it. its a road traveling over some train tracks. the traffic signs, road and abutments are shown solid gray. the hard-to-see grey lines are contour lines. neat.

lastly, i'll be coming back to the states for a whopping week in mid august to officiate the wedding of uber close friends kristi and nate. unlike last time, i won't be taking one week layovers everywhere that i go. if you live in d.c. or london and want to say 'hi', i recommend running out onto the tarmac. i'll be in a (over the counter) drug-induced sleep several seats in from the window over the wing.

from your updates it sounds like california is still standing. news from america doesn't really make it into the rotation here on sabc news so everything i know is what i've heard from all of you. i hear everyone now talks like pirates.

really? i'll have to see it with me own eye to b'lieve it!

Hang 10 like a Horse

2007-07-08T08:46:00.000-07:00

my weekend: where to start?

FRIDAY: there was so much going on in durban this weekend that I decided to spend the whole weekend there. problem is i don't really know anyone in durban. to my great benefit, virgilio gave me the name and number of an old university friend, elisio (also from mozambique), that lives in the town. so i was set. i pulled out the map, found the cross-street and then forgot to bring the map. 10 points.

i then learned an interesting tid-bit about south africa: gas stations ("garages" here) don't sell road maps. but they do sell mutton pies.

on the way in to durban on friday night i decided to meet up with my only pen-pal currently in south africa. a berkely ph.d student doing something-or-other research in johannesburg. she was staying the night with a family in one of durban's outlying towns, hillcrest. the map would've been handy to find my way there and back.

in hillcrest i passed a chinese restaurant. if i hadn't been in a hurry to meet elisio and if jenny hadn't already eaten i thought it would make for good copy to eat chinese food in south africa with a jew from america. or at least it would for a good start to a joke. "so two jews walk into a chinese restaurant in south africa..."

jenny got my name from our mothers being friends. turns out jenny had my dad as a chemistry teacher and we apparently went to preschool together.

when we got to elisio's he was making dinner. i could tell cuz there was a fish head in the frying pan. after dinner we grabbed a drink and dessert at a little outdoor cafe / restaurant that jenny said reminded her a little of berkely. so that was nice. it was nice getting to talk with another american sharing the same or similar experiences. we laughed at how we both are saying things like, "just now", "is it?", and our favorite "shame...". it's now a knee-jerk reaction we realized. if we hear something tragic, really independent of how tragic, one says, "shame".

the remains of three missing children were found buried under their neighbors house: "shame"

i left my gloves at work: "shame"

but depending on how tragic it is, you change how you say it. you use the word itself to express your feelings. slower, louder, more emphasis on the "sh". i'm curious if i could use the word as an exclamation for something good.

jonah, your map of kwazulu-natal is ready to be picked up: pumping fists, "shame!"

SATURDAY:

i managed to get myself a ticket to the july show, south africa's biggest horse race. helicopters were landing in a daisy chain to drop off some of durban's more successful and financially flippant residents.

the show is also a HUGE fashion event. i'm fuzzy on the details but i believe there were fashion shows going on somewhere. what i'm not fuzzy on is that everybody that goes to the july show, dresses to the nines... almost like it's a car show or something. open backs were standard, low cut fronts down to the navel were far from uncommon, and skirts were shorter than the jockeys. as i may have said already, many turf grasses are indigenous here so south africa, if it wants a parking lot, just plants grass and doesn't even need to worry about installing a sprinkler system. in other words, we parked on a golf course. the track that the horses run on is also grass. oh, the point of the story was that all the women were dressed up crazy which invariably means, high heels. on soft grass... it hurt to watch women walk from their cars to the entrances. but on the plus side, they were aerating the soil better than the ibis birds with the long arcing beks.

another thing about the fashion. the theme was "silk safari". india meets africa? so there were some interesting takes on that. silk garters with camouflage skirts (eat your heart out guys). some people treated it almost like halloween, making incredibly eccentric outfits from scratch. something you have to see to truly understand.

another thing that americans might have trouble understanding or believing is the lack of a fear of terrorism or robbing the concessions of revenue from overpriced food and drinks. there were literally NO restrictions on what you're allowed to bring in. ice coolers weren't searched, shrimp platters were brought in en masse and i even saw a few gas camping stoves wheeled in through the main entrance along with the gas tanks.

inside was free booze and food and an armada of cute girls waiting on everyone hand and foot. my ticket entitled me to a v.i.p. tent with our own person to take our bets and some flat screen televisions showing the races and the stats, etc. it also showed the south africa v. australia tri-nations game.

i'm not a betting man but what are the odds of making 10 bets throughout the day on horses to just to place in the top 3 and not winning once? i used homer simpson logic of betting on horses with names i liked: "groove armada", "jay peg", "cozumel", "statue of liberty"... all losers.

so the event went all day and everyone in our tent was making chit-chat all day long. i should point out that the tent was for employees of a big investment firm (so when i talked to people about "horses" and "bets" i referred to them instead as "futures" and "investments"). you could also people-watch and see the interoffice affairs that people were better at hiding around the office but not good at hiding whilst drunk in a circus tent. fun!

there were 13 races over the whole day with number 7 being the most important of all of them. at this point i decided to make my way to the track to watch the ponies tear past me live and in person. what an amazing atmosphere.

now when i say there were 13 races, i should clarify. horses only run in 12 of them. the "13th race", as it's officially called, involves only drunk male patrons of the july show racing the last 100 meters buck naked. i was TOO SHY to consider participating.

get it? that was a joke.

so there i was asking complete strangers "how do i sign up for the 13th race?". most people said "you don't sign up" but it wasn't until a woman explained to me that it's really something you have to jump over the railing to participate in, that i realized it wasn't restricted to size... ahem... numbers of participants and you just crash the course with your naked ass at the 100m marker.

the woman turned out to be a real sweetheart and offered to hold my clothes (and underpants) for me. so as the horses bolted by during the 12th race, i stood surrounded by indian south africans, all with cell phone cameras at ready, my shoes untied, tie off, shirt off and pants unbottoned. "go, now!" she kept saying. i insisted that i wasn't budging until i saw the guy on the other side of the track, who was wearing only boxers, make his move. it's a good thing too because a lagging horse would've run me over. moments later they opened up the gates to allow people to cross (see my picasaweb album) and that's when the place erupted.

the next day i would realize that i gashed my left leg in two places jumping the concrete gate.

i ran out there with my underpants on but they were pulled down by a stranger within two seconds of my arrival. the pre-race involved a lot of nude guys running around high-fiving and saluting the crowd. after a few moments of calisthenics i was limbered up and ready to make my country proud (next year i'm going to have a number painted on). we lined up and one guy stood in front with an air horn but before i knew it, people were running this way and that. i'll say this, the grass was really nice to run on but all my jogging to work in the morning wasn't enough to let me sprint 100 meters at full-throttle. i was so impressed that i passed most of the other drunk-asses (started in about 20th but got up to 5th) until i realized my legs were already giving up on me. i guess that's why horses have a backup pair. i tried whipping myself to get a a good last 20 meters but it only made me feel dirty.

not to pun, but it was a photo finish as flash bulbs were going like crazy.

and for some reason the first race wasn't considered official enough so i had to trot back to the start line and line up for a second race. this time i was in the back and... uh... it's a different race from the back side. people were getting bumped by their friends and crashing and taking down clusters of runners around them. i even had to jump over one 'oke who had his feet slapped out from under him by his friend behind him. i got a second boost of adrenaline trying not to end up naked and on a stretcher in front of thousands of south africans.

SUNDAY:

sunday was the last day of the durban beach festival. a week of sporting events and other crazy stuff taking place all along the south beach of durban. events include lives shows, a surf contest, the african fifa world cup qualifier (brazil 2007), a volleyball tournament, etc.

so elisio drove down there early and grabbed some breakfast on the top floor of a place on the beach where we watched kids doing their best to shred on durban's over head-high break. then we started walking towards the beach that had the beach soccer tournament. when we got there, a huge queue had already formed and it wasn't moving. through a series of impatient follies we were always too far back in the wrong line to get in...

a white security guard that had kinda misdirected earlier nonchalantly waved me over to let us cut to the front of the queue but his coworker wasn't interested in giving a line of 300 africans reason to riot. but to be fair there were riot police there on horses that ended up doing nothing.

while the lines to get in were huge, i brilliantly noticed there was no line to get out. slipping the security guard at the exit a c-note (too much? we'll never know) got elisio and i in (and some third guy oddly enough). it was hilarious because the woman who was in charge was super-scared of getting caught. i was pretty sure that if anyone in the queue outside who saw us outside then saw us inside, it would translate to a beat-down for me. luckily i blended in real nice into the crowd (see picture below). we found space in the front row somehow. primo seats.

the final match was nigeria versus senegal. three 20 minute periods. the fact that you can throw it in to the goalie is just one of the subtle variations on the theme. also, the sport is a riot to watch because there's so much juggling and flicking the ball involved. my eyes are getting sand in them just thinking about it. in case you're wondering, nigeria came back from a 0-3 deficit to win 6-5. the tying goal at 5-5 was a diving header into the far side of the goal. the picture above is nigerian fans celebrating. see my picasaweb page to see pictures of the game and, more importantly, the cheerleaders.

a little sociological information if you want. one quarter of the stadium was dedicated to v.i.p.s and media. in the v.i.p. area there were quite a few whites and even a few indian south africans. out of the plus or minus one hundred guests it was predominantly white in that quarter. the other three quarters, which held what i estimate to be around 3000 people, had one white guy.

after the game ended, elisio and i walked to the surf contest in just enough time to catch the awards ceremony so we kept walking and watched the amateur kids riding the waves just 100 meters from where the contest had been. nearby, sabc1 (the s.a. public television channel) was doing a live bit on stuff still happening at the beach fest and i saw about 10 blokes holding a blanket with something or someone in it. i told elisio to stop and watch. a few moments later the contents of the blanket were revealed as a 50-pound african child was launched into the air (not to mention out of frame of the camera). my female intuition told me that the child had never met his launching compatriots before. this is what a candy bar and "hey kid, you wanna be on tv?" can buy you in south africa. he seriously ran away from them afterwards and grabbed onto a handrail to keep from doing it again.

so cute!

mrs. singh inaction

2007-07-02T11:06:00.000-07:00

my cousin amie just arrived in africa to teach english to children (and teachers) in tanzania. don't ask me what they're gonna use the english for in tanzania. she wrote home to describe her experience in africa after reading it, i was reminded of a very very important thing that everyone should be reminded of: AFRICA IS BIG.

get ready for a jag. here it comes. i have a map of the u.s. up in my office that my parents sent (from AAA. known as AA here. ever notice that "alcoholics anonymous" is just one letter from the "automobile association of america"?). after work bridget and ramona were looking at it with me and ramona remarked that the united states is big. yes it is. it's bigger than south africa by a significant factor but it's a lot smaller than the entire continent of africa. i know i'm stating the obvious but let's look at what might not be so obvious.

unlike the united states one doesn't hop in the car and take a road trip to north africa. south africa has an "interstate" road system but it hasn't been around for as long as the united states'. my road trip with gavin where we covered something like 7 or 8 states in 10 days (ski trip included) highlighted the fact that the u.s. road system is one of american cold-war philosophy; be able to get anywhere in a hurry in the event of commie invasion. two lane and four lane roads will get you anywhere you want and if you have a navigator with a map, you can cut corners saving scores of miles on a trip.

on the other hand, south africa's national road system is still growing but is well behind demand. perhaps partially because of a lack of anticipation of the majority of the population ever owning vehicles. many people can point to the national roads (two to three lanes each direction) and point to a winding one lane each direction road and talk about getting stuck behind a long-haul trucker going 60kph and being unable to pass the whole trip. so it's improving (that's what i'm doing for a living here) but this is just south africa and bear in mind that south africa is the most developed country in the whole southern half and one the most, if not the most, including the top of the continent. so what you get here, isn't the standard. federal tax revenue from california can potentially fund projects in montana. do you think south africa is throwing money at problems in sudan?

so back to the thesis of this retarded jag... south africa is not only a hell of a lot bigger than the country of the united states, but it's not an interconnected network of roads, governments and economies. amie wrote in her email about the travel time that it required to get to her destination. small planes, small roads, unreliable vehicles... you name an ingredient that would cause slow travel and you'll find it when you try to visit an "off-the-beaten-path" destination in africa. anyone that's taken a road trip in a road-hugging, tight-suspension honda s2000 knows that the u.s. caters to off-the-beaten-path travelers with well paved roads. leave the sports cars at home if you want to see south africa.

next on the list of not-so-obvious things about africa is that, due to its size, africa has as much diversity in its landscapes as the united states. i'm finally taking the time to write about this subject because it's become glaringly obvious and, to be honest, a little frustrating. i honestly do wish that it were easier to go adventurin'. i haven't walked through any jungle where i thought i might see tarzan swing by yet.

the source of this concern is that i'm beginning to look at the country through the eyes of any of you who might come visit in 2010 for the world cup. the prefix "south" in "south africa" does belong. it truly is a modifier to its noun africa. some parts are so different from mainstream perceptions of africa that they even resemble parts of the united states. the differences are subtle to vacationers but become clear the longer you stay here.

point in case being this last weekend. snow fell only 30 to 60 minutes from here. just days later (and days before) it was shorts weather. warm winds and blue skies. it fell at the beginning of the week and i was determined to blow the minds of all the americans reading this blog by posting a picture of me making a snow angel (in july) a week after walking on the beachfront in durban. the picture to the left (if you click on it) shows a teensie bit of snow in the mountains. three months ago maritzburg was in a heat wave and only one month ago i was running the air con to keep cool in my office.

the snow fell all over eastern south africa at elevations reached just outside town. by saturday (our days are very short right now) much of the snow had melted but i was hell-bent to get to the snow. but there was a problem. joelene and i broke up thursday and she had been serving as my brains for the past two months (if you're more interested in the drama of my dating life than the drama of south africa versus the united states, i'll go into a little more detail of the breakup in about one paragraph). so i was without a navigator. the result was me just pointing my car at the snow and driving. i hit dirt roads that would result in dead ends and never managed to get there. i wrapped up the day by grabbing a cheddar sausage and roll at a little family-run restaurant called "gunther's" in the midlands. i was again the only patron and again alone so gunther and his wife and i talked. he moved here from germany to get away from his military education and worked in transportation for awhile but eventually just settled in the midlands and bought an amazing piece of property and turned it into a restaurant.

i apologized for eating slowly and keeping them from closing up shop but i guess they live there so no biggie eh? gunther said he was taught to analyze potential employees based on how they eat. i asked what a slow eater such as myself meant and he said it meant i was "full of sorrow". here i was thinking i chewed and talked too much. it made me sad to realize how sad i ate.

maybe i should smoke some marijuana to lose my sorrow cuz i eat faster when i'm high.

so for those of you following my dating life in africa, here's the whole enchilada. i should start at the beginning because that's where the end started. our first couple of dates were great but, if you remember, a text-message mix up led to both of us thinking the other person wasn't interested. as you may know, i shrugged and reluctantly moved on and started gaylene. when joelene contacted me i told her that i had moved on and regretted doing so but wasn't the type of guy to just break up with gaylene the day after 'getting serious' with her because someone else came into the picture. so ten days later, i broke up with gaylene because joelene might have been back in the picture. crazy part was that naturally joelene had accumulated a list of admirers and, just like i had, had contacted them about getting serious. get ready for a little culture shock or whatever... while i had been having awkward and unsatisfying sex with my next in line, joelene had been proposed to by hers. man #2 had offered up a marriage of convenience that she didn't have to decide on until her birthday at the end of june. that was two months off at the time. add to the ticking of that clock a biological clock ticking like the one in the croc's stomach in neverland, joelene was seriously ready to settle down.

for selfish reasons, i wanted joelene all to myself. like i said, i knew she could serve as my tour guide and brains. that and if you've seen pictures of her you'll know another reason i wanted to spend time with her. when joelene and i got "serious", by which i mean keeping a toothbrush at her place, this put a strain on phone calls from man #2 (not to mention her other admirers) who was calling to say "hi" and check in. after less than a week she came clean and broke off the engagement. the bloke took it well. i expected profanity but the guy was upstanding.

again, i was with joelene for selfish reasons. i knew she was what i was looking for while i was in south africa but joelene wanted something i couldn't give her which was a serious serious commitment and if i were to give it to her i was under the gun to match this other guy's offer. i was never the type to rush into a commitment and after get burned by shannon in the marriage, i'm really making sure i move slowly and cautiously. in the beginning joelene wondered aloud quite often why we were together if we weren't going to stay together. i asked her to give me three months of not taking it day by day but just letting down her hair and enjoying the moment. a relationship with an expiration date is always lucky to make it that long and naturally last week we fell one month shy of our three month re-evaluation period.

what doomed us was pretty simple. joelene expected me to be perfect and when i wasn't it caused serious problems. to be fair to her, joelene lived up to her own standards of perfection. the only problem she had was that she really let every little mistake i made get to her. the break up came after a great night with one misunderstanding that was allowed to ruin the whole thing. it came two days before her birthday... remember that's when man #2 was to come visit (he never changed his plans) to hear her response. for all i know, she said said "yes" and they're getting married sometime in the next six months or less. i felt bad for keeping her to myself while we were together and potentially keeping her from true happiness but now i feel even worse. not because i think she's making a mistake but because the whole thing is holding up a mirror to myself. i failed to make a snow angel and today rhona (a coworker that i introduced to her and is now bosom buddies with her) showed me pictures of mrs. singh playing in the snow...

another kick in the gut came when grant told me that tickets to the big horse race in durban this weekend that i've been looking forward to since i got here is sold out. joelene bought two tickets but odds are i'm not getting one anymore. oh well. the feeling of loneliness is just magnified by losing the closest thing i had to a friend so far. i pity the next person to come along that i'll have to latch onto to see the sights.

on a related subject, tomorrow is virgilio's last day at bcp's maritzburg office before he ships off to richard's bay, about 2 to 3 hours up the coast from here. he'll be closer to his home country of mozambiqe.

ten points if you read all this. we'll chalk this entry up to catharsis rather than trying to serve as informative.

Thee Strikes and You're Out (of Luck)

2007-06-17T12:37:00.000-07:00

those of you in the know may already know south africa is going through a public sector strike. public workers differ here in some ways from back in the states. they're also the same in many ways. here in south africa, some hospitals operate under the government as do schools. so a strike not only sends children home requiring their parents to stay home with them but it cripples hospitals. and not to disparage africa's public sector but i'm not going out on a limb when i say that the public sector wasn't doing so hot to start with. the post office queues are like watching the grass grow. car registration already had a backup of months with cars sitting on lots, sold but unable to be given to their owners.

in slow stages, more and more of the public workers are striking demanding a 12% pay increase to account for inflation. the government only wants to pay out 6%. at one point the offer went up to 7%. no dice.

one thing i haven't spoken about enough is that protests are not uncommon in this country. lots of frustration leads to lots of protesting and the protests are on the news frequently. while in the states, protests involve angrily waving pickets, angrily walking in circles, and angrily shouting through loudspeakers, protests here have dancing. it's called "toi-toi-ing" and it has moves and songs that go along with it. so it's kind of a different feel.

but that's only when things are going well. when things go worse, it goes way worse.

the resentment that has formed between public workers that strike and those who don't has resulted in an almost irish-factory-worker-esque "don't cross the picket line" mentality. some striking teachers and workers are going to work and beating up those that are working. one hospital had its drains blocked and then faucets left on to flood the place. tragically counterproductive.

last week the koombi drives (not in the public sector) striked in sympathy. this left kitchens unstaffed all over kwazulu-natal. 90% of restaurants have stayed closed or closed early.

next week things may get worse. police haven't joined the strike but they've threatened to join in eventually if the 12% isn't met soon. so far, the military has stepped in to try to help out in hospitals where nurses are providing only a skeleton crew. but the military (i've heard) wants an 18% pay hike... so if the cops walk, who knows what will happen. i think nobody expects it to go that far. BUT. one thing i picked up on quickly here is that a lot of people believe that the government is sitting on piles of cash. with such a high tax-rate, they argue, where is all the money going? bear in mind, south africa doesn't have the borrowing power that the united states has. we don't print our own money here. the world cup has allowed south africa a lot of leeway but it only goes so far as people believe in their investment. a nation of striking workers demanding what their government can't give them... well you do the math.

the difference in people is exemplified by the scene as well. the public sector is largely black while the private sector... else. striking never occurred under the "old" government and it highlights shortcomings of the current government and even the direction of the country. others just don't understand why the government won't give it's people the raise necessitated by inflation.

one last thought. the inflation is caused by rising oil prices. rising oil prices which are being caused by a war in iraq headed by the united states. the cause and effect relationship isn't talked about as such here. or at least i haven't heard it yet.

Let's Beer It for Here!

2007-06-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

joelene's been sick so i've had some time to myself. i figured i need to go out to the midlands to stock up on flavored coffees and so i did. the place that sells the flavored coffee is called 'the wine cellar' and it's tucked away pretty deep towards the end of the meander. i should take a picture of this place because it's so cozy. wine bottles EVERYWHERE many just going bad (or "going off" as they would say here).

the "i should take a picture" thing brings me to my first tangent. it took me two weeks but i've managed to place an order for a new cell phone. one with a camera. a 3.2 megapixel camera to be exact so the days of me forgetting my camera shall soon be over. getting my hands on a good camera was quite an ordeal. unlike in the states where you walk into a store and walk out with a phone 30 minutes later, here, no matter who you are, you need to provide a copy of your lease agreement or proof of residence as well as three months bank statements. no exceptions. now i can understand how people can walk in from some township, get a phone and disappear and never make their payments again but it is harder to get a phone than it is to buy a car. and here's a quote from a phone salesman: "a phone is easier to take out of the country". does everyone understand that one? good. vodocom wasn't satisfied that i had a letter hand-signed by one of my personal bankers at redlands saying, he hasn't been banking for three months but he's a on ok bloke. mtn didn't like that my work visa would expire before my 24 month contract would be up (in fact, they couldn't even figure out my work visa at first). so i've ordered the phone through my company. they'll deduct the bill from my paycheck. now i just sit and wait. expect to be inundated with pictures... until i'm robbed and lose the phone.

i bought a bottle of port and... 9 bottles of begian beer! after 3 months, i've finally found belgian beer. let's talk beer.

the beers that run the show here are 'heineken' (pilsner), 'caslte' (lager), 'hansa' (pilsner) and 'carling black label' (lager). now, similar to "mum deoderant" and "lux soap", carling black label is a product i'm familiar with thanks to my time with old time radio. it's not really popular in the states but the english love it so it sells here.

i'm not exactly sure how it all works but i think there's a little problem with south african breweries buying out other breweries and smothering the competition. i think hansa had leased the rights to brew heineken here but now heineken has pulled the contract saying that hansa is getting too big because of this deal. on a side note, namibia brews a 'windhoek' lager that isn't hard to find. but it's all megabrewed. so for the first many weeks here it was all lager and pilsner unless i bought something from the one local brewery (about a 30 minute drive from here) nottingham road brewery. they make a brown ale (whistling weasel) that is rich in flavor. tastes like home. few people believe that in the usa there is a huge selection of ales. nottingham road also makes a stout as does castle (milk stout). both are 7s out of 10 compared to guinness and mackeson being 10s and 11s. nottingham road only makes four beers typically. they had a pink beer i've heard last year and they commonly will come out with a fifth beer for a couple months... baited breath.

at the last company month-end drinks and dinner, kevin, who was in charge of beer couldn't find any heineken (due to that licensing problem) so he grabbed a bunch of tall 'bavaria' cans. the only wheat beer so far that i've found in this country modeled after the german style of brewing but made here in south africa. so that made me a little happier even though i've never been nuts for weisens.

but today i found three types of belgian beers at the wine cellar. duvel with it's requisite high alcohol level and two others; a golden and a brown. not cheap. they not only would cost less in the states but this duvel isn't the quality of belgian beer that you can get at trader joe's. sigh... this duvel doesn't have any yeast in the bottle so no master pour to show off to my friends. i've already taken the bottle to boozies the local liquor store across the street to say "get this beer here!". they must think the world of me there.

i also bought a bottle of south african port. here's the itemized receipt: 5 duvels. 4 other belgian beers, 750grams of gourmet coffee and a bottle of quality port. "see you next week" i said as i left.

this little mom and pops store has people walking out with multiple boxes of wine and booze. amazing. it's getting cold in south africa so this is one way to stay warm eh? it's now sunday evening and i've just cracked one of the duvels. very very good stuff. very creamy head on it, with the sweet very belgian flavor. not as good as the two beers that you can get at trader joes but i'm very happy still.

after leaving the wine cellar i stopped in at 'gunthers'. a small german eatery on a hillside overlooking some of the midlands rolling hills. the menu includes german sausages served on a roll with potatoes. i got a cheese sausage and spoke with the owner, gunther. he was in germany for world cup. we spoke about the night and day differences between germany and south africa. trains that run on time without interruption versus south africa's lack of a train system (or public transportation for that matter). gunther used to work in south africa's transport planning or something and he spoke to me extensively about suggestions he had for fixing the transportation problem in joburg and all of south africa. i had to explain that my job consists of design and not planning. it took me 1,5 hours to finish just the sausage and as i left a couple showed up and ordered 7 sausages between the two of them.

in other news, the public workers here are still striking demanding a 12% pay increase. whilst the upper-eschelon officials are giving themselves larger pay increases, they argue there's not enough money for the 12% raises. they did offer 6.5% but it was rejected. whilst there are plenty of similarities between the usa and s.a., the differences leap out at you during a worker strike. the strikers include teachers as well as the nurses at government run hospitals. deaths have been recorded due to lack of hospital workers and some people are losing sympathy for the strikers. also schools are closed and bridgit has brought her son to work the past couple of days. here's where south africa acts a little different from the usa (and more like ireland) with its strikes. here, teachers that are striking are going to work... to beat up teachers that aren't striking. the strike gets extra momentum when people are afraid to not strike.

also, i had a thought today: this country is renaming many of its streets to reflect its african pride / government. problem is the previous white government that named the streets previously had a serious lack of imagination. when someone gives you directions, the street names in howick can also be found in maritzburg and even durban (remember durban has 5 umgeni roads). so the result is directions that make you want to kill yourself. maps either don't have the street names people are giving you or worse the street signs don't match your map. also, it's not like the new government is renaming the ENTIRE street. in some case, just a few blocks get renamed. street names that change several times without you making a turn is not uncommon.

OR

today, in howick i took a right turn from "link road" onto a street called "hayfields road" (why name a street after a neighboring town?!). the street took a little loop and ended back up on itself. here's the crazy part: i did a u-turn and instead of finding myself on "hayfields road" again, i was on "tweedy road". address numbers started at 1 but before they even got to 4, the street took a little left turn and address numbers started at 1 again as the street name changed to "hyslop road". note that "hyslop road" also exists in maritzburg as does "link road".

so that's my story about roads. my new cell phone is gps enabled should i decide that i should shell out for the software. as i venture further out of pmb, i'll consider the option more feasible.

ok, tomorrow i'm gonna run to work for the second time tomorrow morning. hopefully a faster time this time... wish me luck and pray for my knees.

to wrap up, word got out in the office about my blog about my office. i never expected anyone in south africa to spend the time reading about my time in south africa... live and learn. maybe i now have some explaining to do? hopefully nobody found anything too scandalous or disagreeable in there.

as always, stay tuned for future drama!

I Bollywood If I Could (Sari About the Pillai on Words)

2007-06-04T09:41:00.001-07:00

well thanks to joelene, i've come across another gem of south africa. the gem: indian theater. up until last weekend, my only serious exposure (not counting eating dinner at 'falafal house' in downtown s.c.) to bollywood or indian music videos was the episode of the simpsons where abu stays with the simpsons.

that all changed dramatically this last weekend. y'see, joelene's position as p.a. to the ceo of umgeni water gets her all kinds of perks. umgeni water has boxes at all the sports stadia in durban and she's always being given tickets to shows. this time she took them, we hopped in my car and off we went to durban.

at dinner beforehand, i learned what i already knew. i can't eat spicy food. everyone in this country must grow up nursing off of a chilli pepper or something because nothing fazes the indian population around here and the sauces are created accordingly. this chain, "mugg & bean", had four sauces and joelene just put the hottest one on her french fries (chips) like it was ketchup (tomato paste). i had one fry and couldn't eat for five minutes. it hurt to breath.

before the show, we waited in the foyer and i played one of my favorite games, "find a white person", while i sat with joelene and slowly sipped my second jack daniels on the rocks in 15 minutes. why the sudden interest in booze? the synopsis made me do it: something like, "when the star of the show quits a week before opening night, the director must find a replacement. but the replacement is inexperienced so the director insists he must attend a film and acting school first." the plot turned out to be totally irrelevant. the whole thing was a vehicle for everyone to lip-sync and dance along to famous bollywood songs. the dancing was AMAZING. hours and hours of it, all of the indian hand-thingy style. the costumes were constantly changing and that was the show's one hiccup. instead of having one or two people come out and dance while everyone else was changing, they'd have dialogue. i might be the only one complaining though seeing as i might've been the only one who didn't get the impersonations of all the famous bollywood actors. the film ended where the whole school sequence was just a dream he had after falling asleep the moment after having the conversation about going to attend "famous film school". i think. it was complicated.

one last thing to comment on was that the cast was mixed. it had several black women and men and even a white girl. regardless of skin color, almost all of them at one point had to lip-sync the words of some of the songs in hindi. but while they could all do the indian style moves, make no mistake, it was the indian girls (and guys) who could really really move their feet and hands. anyone that comes here has to experience one of these shows.

30 Years Old In South Africa. I Don't See Black or White, Just Grays...

2007-05-28T09:25:00.000-07:00

the medication did the trick and i'm fully recovered from my bout with tonsillitis. don't be fooled, just because it has the word "lite" in it, doesn't mean it's like drinking a cool glass of crystal lite. no! it's pure hell. like drinking a glass of lite beer.

and now about the exciting birthday weekend that just ended. i had three tickets to see pirates of the caribbean part 3. they were for virgillio, me and joelene. joelene, if you remember, is the second date i had on matchmaker.com here. we had a great time together but after our second date i didn't hear a peep from her and moved along reluctantly. since then, we've fallen back into contact and decided to give it another shot to see what we could find together.

on the way to an architect's office friday morning i passed an italian restaurant, "pesto", and decided i should go there first chance. i called and made reservations for joelene and i for 1830 that night before the 2100 film. unfortunately i got stuck at work, drinking beer and arguing about the corialis effect, during bcp's end-of-the-month dinner and drinks so we didn't make it to the restaurant until 1915 (it wasn't ENTIRELY my fault though). the food was as close to home as i've found anywhere in s.a. so far. long story short, we were so late for the film that they oversold the small theater and we had to leave with only a cash refund for the film. virgillio wasn't very pleased with me. a coworker rhona had met up with him, and the four of us went to play some pool (don't call it "billiards" here). rhona and joelene hit it off in classic style and after the bars closed (at 2300 here) they decided that we should go get some bottles of wine and just hang out in the car (not uncommon in s.a.). virgillio begged to be taken home rather than listen to the women cackle away. eventually we ended up at "the golden horse" casino and danced to a guy playing the classics on guitar. he stopped at 0100, just 15 minutes after we got there.

so eventually rhona got in her own car and went home. joelene and i went back to her place to... talk.

the next day was virgillio's (and partly mine as well) birthday braai. we spent the whole of the morning and good portion of the afternoon getting all the necessary shit together for the braai and around 15:00 (a few hours before the sun goes down this time of year) the makeshift braai was up and cooking. a bunch of virgillio's university friends and soccer friends showed up. it was good times. one of the blokes there was a big black guy from new jersey. he's having his mind blown even more than i am. he says his american accent (very pronounced jersey accent) earns him better treatment than his skin color does. for example, if he hangs out with a south african crowd and doesn't open his mouth he gets a much lesser treatment than he does once they realize he's not an african but instead an american.

joelene spent the day working a booth at the "royal agricultural show" in town. it's the big event of the year. it's basically what we call the county fair. rides (many of the same ones you see at the boardwalk for a year or two), music, quilt exhibits, cows, horses... lots of teens dressed like sluts walking around in freezing weather. joelene had a vip pass from work and so she took me and we looked at all the amazing crafts the pietermaritzburgians had made. and naturally we ate junk food till it came out our ears. biltong (aka beef jerkey), mini donuts, boerewors (sausage) and some amarula in a flask i sneaked in.

after going on the ferris wheel, during which i talked incessantly about all the rust i could see on the bolts and how i didn't like the look of the foundation holding the whole thing up, we grabbed a hot chocolate or two and left.

sunday was my birthday and joelene wanted to take me to midmar dam for another braai / picnic. true to form, we got there a little late in the day but we were the only souls around so we had the place all to ourselves. boerewors, crisps, and some chakalaka. turns out 'chakalaka' is like mexican salsa just the african version (with extra corn and more onion and chili).

for the first time ever i remembered to take my camera so i took some pictures of midmar and, of course, the amazingly beautiful joelene. get this: she doesn't like having her picture taken. what is this world coming too? i told her that i either take a picture of her or i draw naked pictures of her.

i'm not sure i've mentioned this, but this country has a range of candy bars in the checkout line that serve as a means of communication for the conversationally inept (aka teens). candy bars where on the wrapper it says things like, "great date", "i love you", "i'm sorry", "do you like to download?", "am i always in trouble?", "can i.........................?", etc. i've never eaten one but joelene bought two for the braai. she gave me "happy birthday" and kept "you mean the world to me" for herself. these bars, called P.S. bars, are better than sex. "caramilk chocolate" with kit-kat-like wafer. i'm going to invent a patch of this candy bar and just ingest it constantly and slowly through my arm or lower back.

and speaking of better than sex... i'm old. 30 has hit me hard. my elbow feels sprained and today i found a collection of gray hairs in my sideburns... my most redeeming trait, my sense of humor, is working overtime to keep a positive spin on this rapid deterioration of my body... maybe i'll look wiser and even a little bad ass, eh? like race bannon, dr. quest's bodyguard... look out lizard people of the amazon!

i should remember the words of my old college flatmate tom mincy who told me, "don't worry about the gray hairs till they start showing up in your pubes."

if anyone's looking for something to send me, make it cialis and grecian formula please. i'll trade you a couple of those "i love you" P.S. candy bars in return. remember, candy bars don't lie.

and i guess i should end with what i assume has become the wildly popular headlines i see on the way to work, "KID KILLED BY GOAL". email me if you want to know what that means. but a little imagination is all it takes to figure out how this child met his fateful end.

so i hope you're all achieving your goals and not being crushed to death by them, both literally and metaphorically. cheers all.

The Weather is Here...

2007-05-22T11:04:00.000-07:00

south africa just got hit by its first cold snap of the year. temperatures below zero with highs all across the country below 10 degrees celsius. but more on that later.

in the meantime here are two more speedbumps i've hit on the miscommunication highway here. the doctor asked me if i had ulcers in my stomach. i thought she was asking if i had "asses" in my stomach.

also when i was trying to describe the golden gate bridge and the visibility being reduced by fog, seko didn't understand why i couldn't see the bridge because of a thick "fuck".

on a new subject; lamposts here, every morning, have the day's headlines in them to encourage you to buy a newspaper from one of the people selling them at every intersection around town. they're usually pretty sensationalist, misleading or, in today's case, plain weird. "OUR BATTLE WITH EVIL CAT" where to start?

i guess metaphorically, we all battle our own "evil cat" every day. i recently overcame evil cat in the form of tonsillitis just in time for the recent cold snap. the cold snap has brought snow all over mountains all over south africa. some not too far from here. last weekend, despite the tonsillitis, i battled through the pain to end it with gaylene.

rewind: weeks ago, i wrote about this amazing girl i'd met, joelene annaline. good times, ice skating, etc. but then she stopped calling me and i went back online and found gaylene. gaylene is a 29 year-old half-indian girl who's all of 4'-10" and has spent most of the last decade being an au pere everywhere but in south africa. usa, italy, france, london,... she was also a little shy at first and, as the result of her travels, wasn't very familiar with the area. we picnicked at midmar dam on saturday and then had dinner in durban on sunday. gaylene was good company but i was the one starting the conversations and the one cracking wise.

despite the physical attraction, sparks never flew and, last saturday, i ended it at an ice cream parlor in the mall. one unexpected detail was that gaylene found the breakup unexpected. another thing that was unexpected was that joelene emailed me during my brief stint with gaylene. it turns out, believe it or not, that my cellphone had chosen not to receive her text messages and she'd interpreted my withdrawal as withdrawal. these coming week or months will see me trying to put the pieces back together with joelene and, if successful, seeing parts of africa untouched by the average tourist.

i hope you're all winning your battle with evil cat.

deep throat problems

2007-05-18T07:44:00.000-07:00

have i been dating still? maybe, but you won't see the four letters "date" in this update.

here's how it starts: on sunday i thought it would be clever to jog to work to see if a.) i could do it and b.) how long it would take. having not exercised in close to four months i was surprised that it took me 22 minutes (about the same time it takes to drive if you leave at a bad time). so i was pleased and i walked back. my right knee was a little tender the next day and by the end of the work day i was feeling pretty out of it. seeing as i couldn't focus enough to do any engineering, i started filling out the health insurance forms on my desk. it's different over here so it's been taking me a long time to research and figure everything out.

i had plans with gaylene already and she didn't mind coming over even though i told her we would just watch a movie. she brought "disprin" (disolvable asprin). i tossed and turned all night and slept in till 10am. i drove her home at noon and returned to my bed where i would, for all intents and purposes, stay until friday morning. here's the quick breakdown.

Tuesday: hoped i had the 24 hour flu. my throat hurt like i'd eaten every pine cone in the sierra nevadas.

Wednesday: wanted to die. couldn't eat, couldn't drink. hurt too much. couldn't stomach anything either. in 48 hours i ate 5 oranges and drank some fruit juice (with vitamins).

Thursday: appetite came back. still hurt too bad to really swallow anything. watched the godfather series. but get this: the video store people (not film buffs by ANY stretch of the imagination) mislabeled the godfather discs. here's how they go: part 1, part 2 (disc 1 & disc 2), part 3). so naturally they grabbed "disc 2" and threw in the box labeled (2/4). so it took me awhile to realize that f.f. copolla didn't have a really backwards way of telling his story. by the end of "disc 2/4" i saw a lot of characters die for mistakes that were only alluded to. "disc 3/4" brought all the characters back to life for me and i got to watch them escape assassination attempts with barely a shrug from me. "i already saw him die at the airport". i also saw part 3 and enjoyed the hell out of it.

Friday: went to work at 0900 and spent hours just trying to find stuff. good stuff to do while you're sick i suppose. infinite patience is a trait that comes naturally with infinite slowness. i also turned the heater on full blast in my office and all my body aches were instantly gone! and so were my visitors. bridgit made me close the door so i wouldn't melt the whole place. oh, the heat also made me fall into a very deep sleep twice.

candice kept asking me why i didn't see a doctor and i had to remind her about the one time she tried to help me fill out the health insurance forms and got nowhere. she also called me a drama queen. how come drama king doesn't outrank the drama queen? is it like chess?

bridgit plopped a piece of paper on my desk. it was a doctor appointment across the street from where i live at 3:30pm so i got to kick off work a half hour early. the doctor took all of 0.2 seconds to say "tonsillitis". she diagnosed me before i even said "ahhhh".

the doctor prescribed me penicillin, some antibacterial throat lozenges, and some horse-pill pain-pills. without insurance, the doctors visit and the meds came to 360 rand (~50 dollars). as i'm writing this, the pain is gone and i just wish i'd gone to the doctor on tuesday but my experience with doctor's bills in the states (even with insurance) scared me away. with insurance it cost me over 100 bucks just to get my health screen done to move to south africa. but speaking of pain-killers, about five minutes ago i thought i felt the pain coming back so i popped some more. now my fingers are getting too heavy to type. so i'll end this post at that.

Partaking of the Forbidden Fruitcake

2007-04-27T12:02:00.000-07:00

hopefully those of you in america reading this find my experience with witch doctors as fascinating as i do. i haven't talked to too many people here about it yet because i'm trying to take a jane goodall, gorilla's in the mist approach to this aspect of south africa. just sit back and observe and see where it gets me. that brings me to today.

after spending the day hiking a mini nature reserve with karyn (the blond from matchmaker.com), her twin sister and mom and dad i drove home and had a little talk with richard and priscilla as i commonly do.

richard and priscilla wanted me to know that they were very concerned for me when they heard that joelene was going to see a witch doctor. i asked them, "do you think i might be asked to drink something poisonous or something?" y'see, i just ASSUME that people here, like me, who aren't practicing witchcraft see it as novel or quaint. WRONG!!!

y'see people here in south africa tend to subscribe to some sort of religion or spirituality. i never really thought about it before but i guess superstition doesn't always end at the pages of your own religious text.

personally, not being superstitious in the least i observe religion in a very disaffected manner. like watching a movie. much of it is beautiful, moving and amazing but only in the sense that i realize i'm watching ancient rituals. "i can't believe people have been doing the same stuff for thousands of years" i think to myself.

richard and priscilla are christians. the reason they are worried about joelene seeing a witch doctor isn't because they're afraid someone'll slip roofies or some sort of poison in the brew but because they see the practice as satanic. they don't want my soul being tainted or worse, for me to begin practicing witchcraft. i tried to reassure them that where i come from we have witchcraft also. except that in the states we call it "holistic medicine".

but after explaining what holistic medicine is, the two weren't satisfied with the comparison that i feel is 100% valid. richard told me that the powers conjured by the witch doctors are from satan. "don't you believe in satan". i guess i hadn't told them that i was jewish. priscilla was surprised that even as a jew i didn't believe in satan. priscilla told me if i didn't believe in satan, then who was it that gave eve the apple in eden? "jews believe that the serpent gave eve the forbidden fruit"

this led to a whole discussion about how the contents of the torah are interpreted differently by jews than they are by christians. i think richard and priscilla had a very tough time understanding how i could view witchcraft like i would view herbal tea; both pass through me and end up in the toilet while doing next to nothing on the way through.

my stance on religion remains: ignorance of ignorance is bliss.

but fear not friends. i base all my actions on what would make for the most exciting story to someday tell my grandchildren... so if there's a chance of me visiting a witch doctor, i'm taking it!

lastly, if you're interested in a surreal experience i had with a piece of grass, a breeze and a dirt road (how could you not?), go to the picasaweb page and look at this picture.

online dating in south africa: "the odds are pretty good but the goods are pretty odd"

2007-04-24T04:46:00.000-07:00

or "ooh-ee-ooh-ah-ah ting-tang-wallah-wallah-bing-bang"

ten rand to whoever posts the next lines in each song above.

and sorry for the rocky and bullwinkle introduction.

as many of you know, i live in a small little granny flat and i'm still without a car of my own. using the company bakkie is a pain in the ass because it's a real chore to get in and out of the long steep driveway that i live at the end of. so my evenings have been pretty tame as of late. as paul simon would say, i've been taking my time but i don't know where.

in the meantime i've been spending time with virgilio but the bloke is leaving for a job site in richards bay (2 hours away) in may.

so enter the catalyst.

i joined an online dating service and told it to find me someone in maritzburg to show me around. it wasn't very long before my inbox was full of women from all over south africa wanting to chat and presumably show me around town.

let me tell you, the profiles that were showing up in my inbox were a great source of laughter and discussion and critiquing around the bridges department for days (tip: for your online dating pictures, if you're overweight, don't put a picture of you next to an elephant. should go without saying...).

being from a town near both the silicon valley and the birthplace of craigslist, online dating is something you might do without even giving it a second thought. not so here. maybe it's the high murder rate here, maybe it's the high rate of violent rape or maybe it's the aids everywhere but everybody cocked at least one eyebrow when they heard i was willing to put a picture of me online and say "email me!".

my interest was to find someone not just in kzn but within pmb. with that criterion (and one other criterion called "looks") i was left with only 2 eligible matches. i emailed them both and waited to see if i would get any response.

the first to email back was a very outgoing colored girl, joelene.

the second to email back, karyn, aka "kaz" was a petite shy blond who works as a computer administrator for stihl (think chainsaws).

here's where it gets (slightly) interesting:

the family i stay with had dinner the other night with the neighbors, the sampsons. during the course of the dinner, the sampsons started asking about the american living in their granny flat. y'see, the sampsons have a niece that had somehow developed a little bit of an interest in meeting me, y'see their two level home looks into the backyard here... this is how every healthy relationship should start.

the sampsons asked my landlords if they could get my email or phone number so their niece could contact me. the niece turns out to be the same joelene. joelene emailed me explaining that she'd talked to my neighbors and landlord about meeting me but this was still news to me because my landlords never got around to telling me about it until i asked them, "why does the neighbors' niece think we're being set up?"

both wanted to meet on sunday. kaz for early coffee. joelene for dinner and a movie. when we spoke over the phone joelene was, simply put, a riot. she wanted to take me ice skating in durban.

i'll save you the details of the early morning coffee date with kaz. little chemistry. only similar interests. ended with us talking about going on some hikes with some pmb hiking groups.

joelene picked me up at my place and we were off to durban to go ice skating. i don't know how often this happens but joelene looked 1000 times better in person than in her pictures. to joelene's credit she took control of the day because god knows i didn't know where we were or what to do anywhere. i was kicking myself the whole time for not taking my camera because this ice skating rink would have been worth taking pictures of. just like back home it was full of teenagers on dates and kids having fun learning something new. joelene and i were older than anyone else on the ice by at least a decade. this girl was clever enough to plan a date where we'd have to hold hands the entire time. not clever enough to anticipate me throwing her off balance and belly-down onto the ice.

maybe diabolical would be more accurate. after ice skating we jumped in the ocean (in full clothes) which required that we dry off by walking down the shore huddled under the one towel she brought.

we missed the movie because we were busy cleaning out her remote entry keys which went in the ocean with us. joelene didn't mind because she didn't want to see a movie about people flying themselves into the sun. she wanted to see the bloodfest '300'. i obliged. she cried at the end. her aunt (whom i still haven't met) told her not to keep me out too late so after the movie we made plans to meet up for coffee on tuesday.

monday i promptly called her to change to monday so that i could watch manchester united play ac milan. she then changed coffee to dinner at her place. wine led to her (and me...) belly dancing. turns out she's a damn good belly dancer and not afraid to throw it around. the wine also led to some significantly inconvenient "bite" marks on my neck. boo hoo for me.

to hide the marks, i wore my white dress shirt and a company tie. i thought i would get a lot of compliments for dressing nice at work. instead i got asked 5 times if i had a job interview somewhere... or if i had to go to court. oh well.

now here's the good part: joelene is leaving town for most of the five day weekend coming up. why? she's a cancer survivor. she going to joburg to see a doctor. a witch doctor. and no i'm not kidding and neither is she. when i brought this up to bridgit and virgilio i learned that virgilio's home country of mozambique has decent witch doctors also. virgilio pointed out that if joelene is going all the way to joburg for a witch doctor, she must really need it.

and to answer the question on everyone's mind: "no, joelene isn't jewish."

next: NONE OF YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US

culture shock really becomes evident when you sit down and try to talk about the hanky-panky. certain expressions you've been using since growing up, you suddenly realize are american terms. "i got to second base last night" means a whole lot less to people that have never heard of mickey mantle.

i'll have to find out if there are cricket terms used to describe the extent of one's heavy petting... cricket has terms like "maidens", "hitting the stumps" and "hat trick". to me those all sound like first or third base.

nonetheless, having official tea times really provides a venue for a narcissistic story-teller like me. so the pressure is on to collect stories that will entertain those abroad as well as the locals at bcp. the only universally intriguing subject seems to be adventures in online dating. i'll go with what works.

last monday morning, virgilio knocked on my door and asked about me weekend. it turns out that while i was shoulder deep in the ocean in durban, he was playing for his friend taylor's outdoor team (for the "babalaza (zulu for "hangover") league. virgilio played in the midfield and even managed to put in a goal. basil was astute enough to point out that at least one of us scored over the weekend.

tea time is also a good time to share highlights of my like, "i open this email from an old girlfriend in the states saying, 'check out my sunburn' only to find the pictures she's sent show her sunburnt... and naked.

"now THAT'S why i need 500 MB / month."

Perms & Conditions May Not Apply

2007-04-18T09:12:00.000-07:00

today was another confirmation that south africa is indeed a poorly built time machine. i went to get another haircut. my last one grew out faster than usual... maybe it's the warm gentle rain mixed with the new fertilizer i've been using.

just down the block from bcp is a "gentleman's hair salon". so, with a name including "gentleman's" i half-expected nude women, so i was only half-disappointed when i found none. the place is four barber chairs with five male indian barbers. they took me the second i walked in.

this place had an 8.5x11 ("a4 sheet" here) printed out that read "WE SANITIZE - to government standards". this place did look like somewhere that might have inspired the government to enact standards. but like i've said, the only thing that comes standard around here is a lack of standards.

i was feeling brave going to this place rather than the overly posh "blue gel" i went to last time that just sucked but that bravery gave way to immense misgivings when the bloke two seats down finished his haircut as i sat down. y'see, instead of having hairdryers to blow the hair off you when you're done, here each station is equipped (yes, i said "equipped") with AN AIR HOSE like you'd use to fill up your car tires!! it gets the hair, and any spare contact lenses, out.

saleen started off by asking "how short? 2 or 3?" i said "1" and that was the last bit of instruction i had to give him. i'm in love with this place. raise your hand if (guys only) you're sick of having to cajole the stylist into cutting your hair short. "are you sure? that shows skin." reply: "skin?! showing on my head?! unacceptable! please glue any hair you cut off onto my face and ears."

this next part is only scary because it happened in lawless south africa. picture yourself in tijuana having this happen to you. after saleen puts down the scissors, he pulls a little something that looks like a razor blade out of a jar filled with, assumedly, blue disinfectant. now, i can't think of a single good reason to use a razor on me so i ask what it is that he's holding. instead of answering using words he chooses to pretend to shiv me in the shoulder with it. good thing i didn't ask what the blue stuff was.

the razor was used to shave me skin tight at all my transition areas; cutting individual hairs that, judging by the singular sounds they made, were SHOCKED to be getting cut. should i be embarrassed that i was terrified to have a razor blade close to my head? before answering, think of these three words: h.i.v.

Grayville: Take Two... and call me in the morning.

2007-04-15T03:31:00.000-07:00

my second trip to grayville was much less eventful than the first which is not to say nothing happened. i had a "t.i.a." moment very shortly after parking the parking lot by the department of home affairs. "t.i.a." stands for "this is africa" emphasis being on "africa", used to explain occurrances here without having to explain them. here's how it works:
me: "outside the department of home affairs, i saw a bakkie with the bed filled to capacity with severed cow heads"

south african: "t.i.a., man. t.i.a."

if you're thinking, "i wonder if jonah can describe the smell of that bakkie", i've already been asked twice the question and both times i replied that i started to take a whiff to see if they were as fresh as they looked but halfway through rethought the idea. it smelled subtly like uc davis... tercero specifically. a "subtle" hit over the head.

resetting, the d.o.h.a. has a meat wholesaler next door (naturally) so that's why the bakkie was there. the cow heads weren't applying for marriage licenses if that's what you were thinking. rolly-polly cow heads. as i was sitting in the d.o.h.a., i looked out the window just as the truck was driving away. true to south african form, there was a passenger riding in the bed sitting on the heads. maybe to keep from stealing them?

and just to recreate the scene a little more, outside the d.o.h.a. there is a man selling pens. it's a living. "another day, another dollar" he might say. also, the d.o.h.a. has a metal detector you have to walk through to get in. bear in mind, this isn't an airport. the only thing it has in common with an airport is that you should show up two hours early.

i sat down in the queue for window seven and waited. half the people in the queue were not foreign nationals but just poor black south africans who couldn't find anywhere else to sit.
after a quick 20 minute wait i got to the front of the queue and i gave them my passport. they said it would take a little over an hour to take care of everything. i was torn. should i wait in the refugee camp or should i hop in the car and drive around the mardi gras / bladerunner city?

i remembered driving past a botanical garden the previous day while be lost. so i hopped in the car and drove over there. this place is a destination for anyone that makes the trip over here to visit. a quick destination compared to kew gardens in london but still amazing and just as beautiful if not more so. kew gardens was about plants of the world, placed in greenhouses so they'd survive. durban botanical was all about the trillions of plants that grow in south africa. no greenhouse needed.

click here for the pictures (and click on the flower too). in the pictures, you'll find a picture of a cycad called "wood's cycad" as well as its description. the circumstances surrounding this plant are totally unique to me. if you're familiar with tolkien's "lord of the rings" you may think of the ents and their entwives. otherwise you may draw parallels to the garden of eden and adam's rib. a spiritual mind will have an easier time of wrapping around wood's cycad than a scientific one. enjoy and let me know your thoughts.

after about an hour i went back to the d.o.h.a. and sat down. i got called up to the front of the queue and was handed my passport back with a work visa sticker and new stamp. i waited for them to call me back up to take my picture for south african i.d. number and do whatever else i needed next.

in line with with me was a skinny white hare krishna in salmon robes. we talked. he travels the world at the behest of his guru doing martial arts sword shows at hare krishna festivals. next stop: england.

he travels the world spreading the word of hare krishna (it's literally just three words). i warned him not to do too good a job otherwise he'd be out of a job. his philosophy is that world is full of sadness. it's tough to argue with him whilst in south africa.

the couple behind him in the queue were an american couple from san francisco. they were much more fun to talk to. a married couple that put all their stuff in storage, sold their car and moved out to a town called "compensation" by ballito up the coast from durban. they were going to do 6 more months of volunteer work building schools if the d.o.h.a. would approve their volunteer visas. The couple were jehovah's witnesses. it seems like religion is behind most of the volunteer visas being given out.

well what'ya know? south africa has a brain drain and religion is moving in.

How to Cure a Bruised Ego: Rub Alcohol On It

2007-04-12T10:01:00.000-07:00

yesterday i got the news from pippa that i'm no longer an illegal alien in this country. my work visa, which i applied for months ago, has been going through the bureaucratic process for some time now but is now just waiting for me to go down to durban to meet with the department of home affairs and get my passport stamped and get an official south african i.d. number. i left maritzburg at about 1:45 in the company bakkie. durban is about 45 minutes away and i took a little map book (no such thing as mapquest or google.maps here).

luckily i tried to find the place on the map before i left. the index had no fewer than six "Umgeni Roads". pippa knew the one i wanted. it was one in a part of durban called grayville.
pippa's directions to "just stay to your left" don't work if you're from america and you're not even close to familiar with how the roads work here. you'll have to come here to understand but even if you manage to get off on the right "exit" here, you still have to navigate roads that make london look organized and brilliant. i'll try to remember to scan a road map for shits and giggles.
i'm not kidding when i say that instead of roads, it's just a giant parking lot with a few islands and arrows telling you which side of the island to be on. and by "island" i do mean a patch of grass with several dozen blacks standing on them like stranded shipwreck survivors.

twice on the way there i got so lost that i had to pull over and flip through pages of the map to find which page i was now on. i never once used street signs to find my way. it was by using parks; the only thing that looks in real life like it does on the map (green).

by using the process of elimination i eventually found my way to the intersection of umgeni road and drove up a road steeper than ANYTHING in san francisco... complete with stoplights of course. i was looking for 350 umgeni and the road ended at 290 of course. once i figured out i was on the wrong road (i passed a botanical garden which didn't show up as a green patch near umgeni road) i actually new where i was on the map still. it would be a short 45 minutes later of driving in smaller concentric circles, 'circling like a lion' before i would make a wrong turn and find myself on umgeni road.

i parked, took off my button up shirt, untucked my undershirt and went in search of the department of home affairs in grayville. let me tell you, "gray"ville's gonna a need a couple thousand more white guys wandering around lost before this place can even claim to be approaching a grayish color. maybe it's named after the weather?

i found the department of home affairs and walked up to the one open window, sat down and explained what i was there for. the woman said, "you want the next door."

so i went next door and walked into what i first thought was a somalian refugee camp. it's not something i'm brave enough to take out a camera and snap a shot of so you'll have to just take my word; "somalian refugee camp".

i don't mean to sound racist but i immediately thought, i doubt everyone here is here to pick up a work visa. so i asked a security guard where i should go and he pointed me into a little room the size of a walk in closet. in there two women (one white, one black) were trying to figure out a problem on their computer. they didn't acknowledge anyone until a third-term pregnant black woman came in with her mother and were asked to wait outside. eventually i got fed up and said, "i just have a quick question... etc."

i was told that the office in charge of that ("window 7") was closing. it was in fact closed. had been since 15:00 and it was now 16:30. perfect end to a perfect day. it was about to get perfect-er.

the drive out of there was more relaxing because now i could take in the scenery and not try to look for one of the six umgeni roads (which was a one way road for the first 30 yards by the way). in the united states we have 3 and 4 way intersections. durban had several 6 way intersections. maybe even more. who knows. just drive and try not to stall the bakkie.

here's where my day went sour: i was driving behind a big ass truck making sure not to get in a lane that would take me away from the N3 (N for national) route straight ahead. i was comfortable with my lane and looking around... i'd driven into a part of durban that may as well have been one of those streets in hong kong... or better yet los angeles in blade runner. hawkers selling wares out of wooden carts, concrete highway overpasses, huge semi-trailers, PACKED sidewalks, and neon everywhere. i was trying to think of what this place reminded me of when it finally hit me, "mardi gras". then it also hit me, the truck in front of me was taking a right and the light had long since turned red. so there i was in the middle of a HUGE intersection. the weird part is that the people on the sidewalks knew i was fucked before i did. those that didn't see me began walking and so far the worst experience of my time here was driving this huge bakkie through the people and coming off as an arrogant white south african.

i was so freaked i didn't say "sorry" or even gesture wildly as my hands were free downshifting and upshifting. i got some SERIOUSLY nasty looks and even shouts.
ruined my already ruined day.

i stopped in the durban office of bcp to drop off a book so that i could say i got something done on the trip and talked theater with the head engineer there, brian. word's out that i like theater so i might be going with him and his wife and some of their friends to see "the magnificent seven". i asked if it was about samurai or cowboys. he said to stop by on my way through tomorrow and he'll have one of his younger technicians drive me the rest of the way. maybe i just will.
because i'm worth it.

i'm rubbing alcohol on my wounds. i've found that the pinotage wines here, once they've breathed for a day, become much more enjoyable.

cheers.

I Cunt Explain How Confusing an Afrikaans / English Accent Can Be

2007-04-11T11:19:00.000-07:00

i'll start off the with another catchy yakov smirnov-esque thing about south africa.

spanish words like "jalapeno" and "tortilla" are pronounced as if you'd never heard of the spanish language. at first i just thought some people here were unenlightened but it turns out the whole country, including the voices in commercials, pronounce it not "hah-luh-pain-yo" but instead "jah-luh-pee-no". throw an indian accent over it and you've got a recipe for "excuse me?". i've been asked twice, indignantly, "well, how do YOU pronounce it?"

WHAT?!!! HOW DO I PRONOUNCE IT?!!! it has a TILDE above the n! it's there for a reason!

by the way, guess how they pronounce "tortilla" here... say it out loud. it sounds like a chinchilla had sex with a tortuga.

and on that subject, my tuesday carpool ride in, andrew in roads, called up and said he was running late because his rabbit died. i was thinking he drives some weird european vehicle called the rabbit (cars are named here without consideration for how lame the vehicle sounds coming out of a guy's mouth). but it turns out his rabbit had died that morning. andrew, who's about my age has his third kid on the way. people start families pretty early around here like i said earlier.
andrew said that the rabbit dying might serve as an important learning lesson about death. now, just last week i learned that andrew, well he's pretty religious. so i thought to myself, "wasn't this weekend all about jesus' death and resurrection? the kid's probably had enough confusing lessons about death without having to bury his rabbit just days after the easter bunny leaves."
andrew asked if i knew of any causes for a bunny to just die but i kept my lips sealed. the jews had nothing to do with this one.

speaking of the effects of accents, i forgot to put on anti-perspirant this morning so i borrowed some from a coworker (who goes to the gym at lunch). when i left to put it on, phil told me not to spray it in the wrong place. bridget asked, "i think he knows not to spray it in his eyes". now bear in mind bridget's accent does a funny thing with the word "eyes".

to conclude, i survived a double-fronted moth attack last night. i put a bag over my hand and grabbed one. it kicked like i was holding a beating heart and its legs reached out of my clenched fist. i held it and waited for my heart to stop racing. if i freak out every time a kite-sized moth flies into my personal space i won't last long here so i've got to overcome this semi-irrational fear of them. after all, it would take a half dozen of them to pick me up off the ground.

and i'm not sure if i've gone into detail about "tea time" here. paul asked about it awhile ago, so here goes. it is stated in the bcp company handbook that tea is served three times a day: at 10:00, 13:00 and 15:00. bcp employs a woman whose only job is to deliver a tray with rooibos tea, hot water for coffee, clean cups, spoons, cream and sugar to every department and director. the bridges section has the plotter and server room which doubles as our tea room. for that reason, tea time is a very social event for me when i feel like i have the time.

every now and then bridget, the secretary for the bridges department (and yes, i have realized the comedy in the fact that BRIDGET works in BRIDGES) will bring in baked something-or-other for us to nosh on. the second wednesday of every month is birthday tea and whatever food or cake is left over ends up in our room. we descend like vultures.

I DisLike a Moth to a Flame

2007-04-11T11:01:00.000-07:00

next time one of you is thinking about chaos theory (justin), think of me. you know that line (i think goldblum says it in jurassic park) "a butterfly flaps its wings in africa and it causes a hurricane in florida"... whoever came up with that description of chaos theory has been to africa. if a butterfly flaps its wings in africa, it causes a small cyclone in africa.

here's the story:

i was watching the english news and they had a stat of how many people thought the south african soccer team is good enough to make it into the world cup... and they broke it down into race: 46% of blacks, 23% of indians... naturally i wanted to take a picture of it. by the time i got my camera on, i had missed it so i switched to a zulu language news which was about 10 minutes behind... and waited... and then THIS HUGE FUCKING MOTH FLIES IN AND I GO SCREAMING AND FLAILING ALL OVER MY HOUSE. i then dove into my bathroom and slammed the door behind me... i look around for a towel to throw over the moth (it's the size of a small bird) but all the towels are outside in the bedroom... then i realize THE MOTH IS IN THE BATHROOM UNDER THE HEADER BEAM RIGHT AT MY HEAD LEVEL!!! i dove out of the bathroom faster than i dove in. and when i got back to my senses i realized i'd missed the "iindaba" version of the story with the stats i wanted to photograph.

i'm now sitting on the bed with the bathroom door closed. there's a window so maybe it'll leave. hopefully it won't be there in the morning. i've shot video and maybe i'll shoot a picture of this thing (with a dime for scale) when i get the biscuits up to chase it out of the bathroom.

look for the video in my picasaweb album.

yours in spirit,

jonah

"I Probably Play Like A Cow"

2007-04-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

I’ve been over here for a month and haven’t written a considerable amount about soccer. Let’s try to fix that.

Soccer is very big over here just not at all with the white or even Indian population. 90% of the time I bring up that I’m looking for a soccer team I’m told that I should take up rugby, cricket, squash, or hockey. To be honest there is a part of me that wants to experience something totally different (even though ucsc does have a rugby team) but that’ll have to come later.

Virgilio (from Mozambique) told me that he has some friends playing in the Sunday league at the university and we might be able to jump on the field with them. He says it’s not very serious (it’s referred to as the ‘hangover league’ in zulu). So on Sunday we went to check it out, boots in hand. I was expecting something small but found an 11v11 match going on a FULL-SIZED field. We’re talking professional sized. When virgilio’s friend, taylor, showed up with his team they all had matching jerseys, shorts, socks etc. and when they started warming up, they used rehearsed warm-ups like the team did when I was on the wrestling team. All synchronized and disciplined. Both teams did this. Soccer is taken very seriously over here… by the players. The spectators (virgilio and I were among them) spent the 90 minutes yelling at taylor’s team (they called the tall skinny goalie “sticks”) and complained about every missed shot and missed call. I was laughing my ass off until I realized that virgilio said we might be playing for this team in several weeks. Just imagine how bad the taunting would be if there was a white guy on the field.

If you don’t think it would be that bad, let me take you back to the previous day when virg and I went to a bar with a projection tv showing the premier league matches. One of the commercials is a bunch of black kids in south Africa picking teams to play some soccer. They’re going back and forth until every kid is picked. But then… a white kid shows up on the pitch and everyone falls silent (even the kids in the stands just there to watch). Nobody knows what to say until one kid pipes up, “don’t pick him he probably plays like a cow”. It ends with them asking his name and him being invited to play. They have a commercial encouraging blacks to let whites play soccer with them. I’m not sure if that’s good for me or bad. Wait, I do know. It’s bad.

So I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to get on this Sunday hangover team so I’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, Richard from the Durban office has invited me to play for his outdoor team that is playing this Thursday. I’m going to borrow the company vehicle and drive to Durban on Thursday (I’ll be taking one of the secretaries, Ramona, with me to navigate). The next soccer opportunity is a different league also in durban that bcp is sponsoring. That one should be more laid back seeing as it has a bunch of engineers on the team.

My First Bad Day at Work (prefaced by two eye-opening road trips to remote job sites)

2007-03-30T10:34:00.000-07:00

I had my first bad day at work today. It was the product of the days that preceded it that were above average. Today is a Thursday, and I can easily say it all started on Tuesday. I’ve been working on two separate projects for the majority of my time so far. A fair amount of time is being spent learning all the ins and outs of the office but the majority easily is spent discussing and designing and familiarizing myself with the codes and their origins over here.

Tuesday had a job site meeting (or more appropriately, a ‘clarification meeting’) 2.5 hours away (north of Durban) at a bridge site where ian (my carpool ride) and coworker gary would be introducing the project to all interested contractors and subcontractors. The bridge has been designed by bcp and all that remains is the receiving of tenders (bids) from qualified contractors. Rather than go into Thursday I’m gonna go into some details about two very very different parts of south Africa, both of which are very different from what we’re accustomed to here.

The meeting was held in the town hall of a village on tribal land. I’m always comparing this place (especially the townships) to mexico. The analogy still sticks except I’m not sure if goats and cows wander around mexico to this extent. About this village: it’s quite large and like an Indian reserve in the states, it is owned/governed by the south African government. Instead it has a chief (with seven wives of course) who was born into the job. There is no law enforcement, all issues and concerns involving land appointment go through the chief and his advisors. He is given a stipend from the south African government so he does not collect a tax from his people thus they don’t pay any tax. The village, quite a large one comparatively I’ve been told, is near and on land with a little jungle home to a bird found nowhere else in south Africa let alone the world. This makes this little bit of nearby jungle quite a tourist destination for birdwatchers which is where bcp comes in. the road in and out of this town used to be hand made (yes literally) and people wishing to travel to this part of south Africa needed 4-wheel drive as well as resilient backsides. bcp has been in charge of the road being built through this village until it meets up with another unpaved road that is currently undergoing the same process. This road includes a couple bridges (one of which is already done). The existing bridges are literally underwater during heaving rains and currently have a significant amount of the abutments broken off and downstream a few meters. The new bridge will be several meters higher thus increasing the span and required engineering but this is not a major project like the one I visited last time I was here which crosses the mgeni river.

Because of the potential conflicts between the local “government” and a construction crew driving through creating noise etc, bcp appointed a liaison to the chief on the payroll. The liaison is a white bloke named “titch” who grew up on a farm with his german parents and all his zulu neighbors. So he grew up speaking zulu and german. When he grew up he went to an Afrikaans school. He later learned English in school and now speaks that at home with his wife who is from England. He used to work for the parks service and has no technical experience… he’s just someone that can talk to both sides.

After going over the contract documents and project description everyone drove out to the site 22km away (16 paved, 6 unpaved). I drove with titch who explained the village, the chief and how everything works there. The Africans still don’t believe in land ownership and thus nobody owns property. You ask the chief if you can have a piece of property and he approves or disapproves. You then build your home on the property however you want out of whatever you want. Most are brick (it’s cheap) with a thatch roof (or metal) with wood framing holding it up. Sometimes glass windows. Sometimes not. I unfortunately left my camera in the boot of ian’s car so I couldn’t take any pictures of the amazing village. One other thing that was amazing, and titch told me it would blow my mind when I saw it, was how the vegetation changed 100% after going over a single hill. It had been lush green grass with jungle like what you would see apes moving around in and then, poof, you’re over this one hill and you’re in what they call the thornfeld. Acacia trees, cacti, and aloe (stuff with thorns) and no more green grass. Why? “This side doesn’t get any rain.” That’s Africa. Just like how my side of pietermartizberg gets A LOT more rain than the howick side where a lot of my coworkers live. I wish I had my camera but I’ve been assured that I’ll be back there in several months once construction gets under way.

Two last points about titch and this road: during the drive we passed black children of every age in their school uniforms (slacks, white shirts and ties). It was like Hogwarts just out down the road. They were walking back in this moderate heat (it would have been far worse just months ago) up these pretty big hills back to the village we had just left. These boys and girls in their shirts and ties were going to leave this paved or unpaved road they were walking on hike into the hills with the brick and thatch houses not big enough to park a large car in. maybe it’s just me but it boggles the mind to contrast the school uniforms with the walk and the homes they’re walking back to. Compare it kids in the usa who drive half a mile to school and wear clothes that they bought at a department store that came with holes in them already. And also consider what an education means out here. Not that much.

Secondly, titch showed me a piece of land on a hill that the chief is letting him build a retirement home on. “virtually unheard of” they say to have a tribal community let an outsider in like this. But I guess that’s why bcp chose titch.

Next on the list: the b.e.e. black equality empowerment. In construction projects it dictates that every project needs to have an emerging contractor of a minimum skill level with a certain percentage of underprivileged (aka black, Indian or women) on the payroll. Jews don’t earn them points. Every contractor or sub is ranked by the dept. of transportation. The main contractor needs to be a ‘stage 6’ and he needs to employ a ‘stage 4’ or higher. Every stage 6 rep at the meeting was white (except maybe one) and every stage 4 was black (and young). There was even totally bored and disinterested girl in her mid to late 20’s there. My guess is having a girl representing a company while a guy sits there next to her and asks questions makes a company more likely to get picked. That’s just my guess.

I was mostly on board on that 2.5 hour each way drive up the coast to see more of the country. And I did. We left maritzburg (pmb) at 6am so I was tired when we got back.

Moving on to Wednesday, I had another field trip, this time with bruce himself. This one was a 3.5 hour drive south to inspect a project we’ve been brought in to check another firm’s obviously questionable design. Bruce and I left pmb at 7am and got to the site where we stayed for about 1.5 hours looking at information we’ve trying to get emailed to us for a week and walking around in a culvert I’ve been running numbers on for the past week. The culvert had 10 meters of soil above it and was about 2.5 meters tall with about 5cm of water running through it. Walking down there, james the site supervisor for the engineers we’re… auditing… told me I should put on some gumboots before we go down there. Now, before I left, Tristan explained to me that they call condoms in south Africa “gumboots”. Turns out it’s really slang when gumboots originally mean rubber boots… the equivalent of what we call “rubbers”. roll that one around in your head for a bit...

Speaking of which, the sabc news are talking about how the government is discussing creating red light districts especially for the world cup in 2010. they’re seriously considering this to accommodate international guests.

I took quite a few pictures of the site visit and the drive there and back (it was a loop). I’ll post them eventually. By the time bruce and I got back to the office, it was time to leave for an office cocktail party for one of the directors who is retiring after 25 years from the roads dept. a 30 something year-old is starting next month and an older engineer, peter, is moving up to take his place in the roads dept. the cocktail party gave me a chance to work on figuring out the office soccer team and ways to watch and play some pickup soccer in the coming weeks. It also gave me a chance to, as usual, get questioned by the administrative women in the office about how I’m living and how can I possibly stand it? The most popular question I’m asked is: “how do you cook at your small place?” and then second is: “YOU DON’T COOK?!” tied for third are: “CEREAL?!!!” and “YOU’RE KIDDING?!!!”

After the cocktail party I tried to watch south Africa play sri lanka at cricket at ians but I was in need of sleep so ian took me home where I fell asleep and missed the first close finish of the tourney so far thanks to the sri lankin bowler breaking a record I had asked about moments before falling asleep. 4 wickets in 4 balls. I had asked earlier, “has anyone ever bowled 2 wickets in 2 balls?” 2 in 2 is extremely rare but possible.

That brings me to today, Thursday. I spent the morning going over the new direction we’re going with the culvert analysis now that we’ve been to the site and can move on. So I started moving forward but got held up by a question about some software that took me around the office trying to figure out the solution. Then I was finally shown how to bill my time (I asked, “how do I bill time that’s spent learning how to bill time?”).

Here’s where I got stuffed; my work visa is still not ready. So I don’t have a bank account. I’m being paid out of petty cash whenever I ask. Without a bank account it’s tough to buy a car. However, I’ve recently learned that I need a ‘drivers license’-type license from the d.o.t. to buy a car regardless of money and visa. Basically once I get the license, my company can put up whatever money I need to buy a car. Problem is Candice, the girl that answered the phone every time I called from the states, said she could take care of it before the weekend if I got her pictures of me. Everybody told me different things that I would need and different places to get them. I walked a couple blocks to the store “game” which is like longs drugs and found out they don’t take the picture that I would need. Pippa suggested I take the company bakkie and rob drew me a map. I then wandered around trying to find the keys only to find out that it wasn’t even there. Kevin had it. So then I tried to get a ride from one of the secretaries. Finally bridgit to me to the Victoria mall where I paid 30 rand to have a guy take a picture of me with a 3 megapixel camera (not even on a tripod) where they printed out 4 copies and handed it to me 15 minutes later. On the way back I joked, “I’ll bet the second my ass hits my chair when I get back, bruce will check to see if I’m done with the numbers he gave me”. Sure enough 5 minutes after getting back, bruce walks in. he’d heard I was out getting my picture taken but I don’t think he knew it took me the entire afternoon. Grrr… and tomorrow is the month-end braai. Wow, I’m something like 3 weeks behind and I haven’t even been here that long. Our offices have locks on them so I think I might just lock the door tomorrow to keep people from meandering in and asking “howzit?”. The one thing of importance: making plans with virgilio to see 300 tomorrow night. Shazzam!

I think that’s enough to last awhile. Remember: send me an email letting me know how things are going wherever you’re at. I should have email at home soon (I hope) so I’ll try to answer all the emails that’ve been sitting in my inbox unreachable to the likes of me.

Cheers,

Jonah

Week Two (Snakes & Thunderstorms)

2007-03-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

ok, i promised i was going to enact a new policy of "if something exciting happens, wait a day or two before writing about it". i was thinking i needed to sleep on stories and see if i still thought they were so amazing the next day before sitting down and writing 10 pages about it. this was inspired by my experience with getting a haircut. looking back, it was weird but not worth writing about. the point to gather is that i'm constantly sticking out like a sore thumb because i don't understand policy over here that's totally the norm. people look at you like you're crazy when your hairstylist offers you a drink or tea and you say, "no thanks, i'm getting a haircut right now. i think i'm busy". i also didn't expect a 10 minute scalp massage. i'm sure steve experienced similar in malaysia but at least he had coworkers and family to guide him through it.

i'm sitting down to write about finding my first frog in my place. something jumped out from behind the trash and i thought it was just a gecko, but it was a very colorful frog. the part of the story i want to relate is that when i went to get the landlord and ask him what to do (the question seemed more appropriate in my head), he said that frogs are a good sign. it means there aren't too many snakes around. brown (non-poisonous but biting) snakes are very common around here. yesterday's headline was 'house overun by snakes'. there are newspaper salesman on each corner (you get to know them by name eventually and practice your zulu or whatever language with them) and you can read the headlines while waiting for the robot (traffic light) to change. ian, my ride to work, explained, "it must be a good day in the world when that's the headline". the main paper for kwazulu-natal province buries it's foreign stories deep. angelina jolie's baby, however, counts as a local story. madonna too.
moving along, ian had read the story that morning and told me that the woman with the infested house believes someone cast a curse on her. she said it earnestly and it was reported with all seriousness. ian says a very considerable portion of the population really believes in that stuff.

let's break the rule i just made two more times. i know it sounds cliche but i'm also not fitting in

whoah, power just went out. did i mention i'm in the middle of a crazy thunderstorm? i just heard a lightning strike that sounded like it belonged in a george lucas film. hell, i feel like i'm in a movie theater right now because the lightning here is a constant flickering. i've gotta find my camera to video this scene. i just bought matches for my candles after work today. well, seeing as battery life is limited, i'll wait until tomorrow to talk about the woman named 'fortunate' that cleans for 70 rand (10 dollars) a day for richard and priscilla (and starting next week, me). the story of putting my wine from soquel vineyards that i brought for bruce 3 months ago up against a wine brought by bruce's son in law. and a young black coworker virgilio.

until next time,

jonah

Half a Week Down

2007-03-19T09:14:00.000-07:00

it's monday now. i just had my mind blown. i just saw a commercial for 'grandpa headache powder'. if you have a copy of all my radio adverts, i extracted an old ad from the 40s or 50s for grandpa headache powder. 'aaaahhhh... grandpa'

when i'm given time to let my brain stew i come up with "your mamma" lines. here's the gem for the evening: "your momma's so fat she has a mezuzah on the door of her refrigerator."

ok, it's tuesday. i'm watching the cricket world cup. it is such a big deal it has postponed regular programming. i saw a new way of getting out so the game still has some tricks up its sleaves. they just showed how some fans (pakistani team i think) are in the stands just praying and not watching. wow.

the main things i think i'll have to report on while i'm here will be of the following:
1.) the differences between us and s.a. (also the weird similarities)
2.) discoveries and stories related to me
3.) adventures at work and everywhere else
4.) new friends

so let's start with work. it's great and challenging. i've been asked to try to solve many problems along with my other fellow engineers. so far i'm not sure i've offered anything brilliant to solve the problems because they approach the problems so differently here. because of the size of the structures at this office, the simple assumptions i used to make aren't acceptable. i think my suggestions might be received better once the project moves farther along. the coworkers are awesome. many are from all over the world. many are from all over south africa. most everyone keeps the door of their office open and everyone spends a lot of time being social.
tea is served at 10, 1 and 3 and tomorrow there will be cake. oh and i think i've noticed racism at work as usual. a younger black engineer, virgilio, was hired awhile ago and isn't getting a new computer and his own office like i have. but being one of the younger new employees while all the newer employees are black or indian, i'm gravitating towards the younger set... even though in south africa, everyone gets married and has kids very young. traditional customs too. one of my fellow engineers gives money (or cows) to his bride's family. i don't think i'm gonna be able to ever go back to a small quiet office... but maybe just having me in it would make it not very quiet. bcp is almost like the halls of a high school. lots of chat and it clears out within moments of closing time.

but enough about work, what's next..? let's talk about watching television in south africa. i get 4 channels. i think all are government owned. that would explain why i understand just over 50% of the original programming. but it does show gillmore girls, joey and other american programming. but that's only when they're not showing news which is a lot of work because they have to show the news multiple times, each time in a different language (english, afrikaans and zulu or whatever). even the original dramatic programming and even sports will drop in and out of english (sometimes subtitled in the language that is being swapped in and out). this news show i'm watching ("dikgang") has clicking in it. you almost don't hear the click because it's incorporated into the words simultaneusly with the rest of the sounds. it's my understanding that most people that speak afrikaans fluently are much like the mexicans in that they refuse to speak anything else. it's this pride and independance that led to the boer war.

the grocery stores are, simply put, no trader joes except the prices. i would say the standard of living is much reduced at least in hayfields. the grocery store runs the gamut. comfortably wealthy and some pretty run down folks of all colors. so i guess at the supermarket you have a better selection of social classes than soup flavors. but i have found some good cheese. a bleu. crackers are a whole different story. i also bought some more monkeygland sauce. and in a piece of novelty news, i'm collecting weird ethnic foods of england and south africa to mail back soon. you'll all also get a kick out of the weird names of foods here (e.g. "salticrax" crackers).

new friends... no new friends. i'm coming home and working on personal projects that i was always too busy to work on back in s.c. i'm now probably 1/2 way done with the animation part of "bedbugs" and it's coming along nicely.

i miss the old carefree lifestyle of biking to work. maritzburg doesn't have bike lanes but it does have bike clubs but i'd rather bike to work than in circles with a bunch of old people.

i'll wrap up by saying that the one thing i still balk at is driving myself. bcp has offered me the company vehicle for as long as i need it but i'm too scared. i live at the end of a long steep driveway full of cars... need i say more. the company 'bakkie' is a big truck.

hope you're all well,

love,

jonah

Thoughts From My First Full Day in South Africa

2007-03-12T09:03:00.000-07:00

well we're on day two (saturday) in south africa. my first full day. i don't have anything interesting really to report but i'm really writing this for myself. a cleansing of all the thoughts running around in my head. yesterday was very difficult (emotionally) for me but it could have been a whole lot worse. perhaps it all started when i woke up from my drug induced sleep from london to joberg. i was awake for maybe 2 of the 10 hour flight. i was seated next to a young (24ish) indian couple from england vacationing (going on holiday) in south africa and southern africa.
i nodded off for a bit and when i woke up they were gone and replaced with a blond south african on her way back from a business trip in the middle east.
i put her in her early 40s and thanks to her requesting an aisle seat the couple moved and was replaced by only her. so we three seats between the two of us. what seemed like a drinking contest broke out between us and that sums up the first two hours. the landing of the plane woke me up and i hurried through customs to jump on the durban flight. while i waited i started reading 'disgrace' by some south african author. it involves, among other events, a break in where the main character is set on fire and his daughter is raped. that, coupled with news of south africa descending further into violence, made for a very unsettling first day. pippa had a scarier-than-hell story about a break in with her in-laws. i also kept rethinking, "i've just left a setup in santa cruz that for the first time in my life was just how i liked it! and now i've moved to a place where i probably won't ever get it close to how i like it. what the hell was i thinking?!"
but later pippa took me to the grocery store literally across the street and i bought some bread, cheese and wine and i started to feel more at home.
the place is tiny. and i mean tiny. can't be too much more than a couple hundred square feet but it's fully furnished, near work, in a very safe neighborhood, and comes with a very very very nice indian family. but i still feel totally alone out here and i'm trying to use that to my advantage to work on the cartoon.

i've begun investigating the cost of internet. i might not have internet on this computer for a few weeks.

i've also started taking little strolls around the neighborhood. hayfields, it's called. cute. quiet. i'm living an amazing experience right now. i'm just afraid that if i get robbed or something worse, i'll lose the lustre of it all.

i've found a microbrew of sorts at the liquor store across the street, 'boozies'. the beer tastes like sierra nevada but it's a nice taste of home. whistling weasel pale ale brewed in nottingham road wherever that is. 100km from here they say. it comes in a plastic bottle and i can buy it in plastic 2 liter bottles like soda. it has a short shelf life they warned me. i scoffed at the shelf life. "this beer isn't gonna make it through the night" i said.
the family i'm staying with has a boy named angelo. he visits me and hangs out with me. he asks lots of questions like you would expect from someone his age. he says he's eight. he has a cricket game in a week. if i don't have other plans i hope to tag along and watch him play.

i've been offered use of the housecleaner, fortunate, once a week on wednesdays. 70 rand gets her for 8 hours. i have no idea how i can possibly keep fortunate (that's her name) busy for 8 hours a day with my meager laundry and dishes.
rouwellyn, the boyrfriend of liza, the daughter of the richard and priscilla just invited me out to dinner and to hang out tonight. he said semi-formal and i'm sitting here wearing cargo shorts, an undershirt and turf shoes.

i keep my computer on california (pct) time because i eagerly work on the computer waiting for it to be time when i can call the states without waking everybody up. eventually i'll be busy at work and when i get home everyone'll be awake and at work. i'm not sure how many international minutes i get with a 180 rand phone card but i don't suspect it'll be much. and seeing as i get charged per the megabyte for dsl, there's no perfect way to keep in touch. but keeping in touch is a super priority that i look forward to. for now loneliness is a problem even though boredom isn't.