Ah, But Your Land is Beautiful - Alan Paton

As we walked up the hill to the archives, my head was down in my runner’s stance of ‘taking the hill” when Maura pointed to the sky above us. The clouds had parted to reveal the sun shining on the mountain, and immediately this title from Paton’s book came to mind. This is truly a country of great beauty. That is undeniable. As we walked the isolated beach of Hout Bay yesterday, I shared with Maura the creepy feel it gave me, influenced I’m sure by the township we passed through to get to it, the guard that followed us when we got lost and traversed a private path to a locked gate to the beach in what should have but wasn't a locked entrance to private housing on the beach, the man standing guard as we finally found the public entrance, the trash strewn sand  and the adolescent black boys being chased away from the rocks they were climbing by yet another private security guard. And yet the coast surrounded by the majestic mountains, splattered with fog and sun as it was could be described no other way than magnificent. Ah, but your land is beautiful.

TMI warning … skip to next paragraph….

Thursday morning, or perhaps Wednesday evening, found both of us with gastronomical distress… Maura probably more than me, but of the same variety.. high in the stomach strong pain but without the accompanying diarrhea or vomiting   but certainly fear of both… with both of us wondering how we were going to share the toilet and thinking that the popcorn bucket was once again going to have been a very useful purchase…mine came intensely but in waves with breaks in between and pretty much stopped by morning. When my alarm went off at 7, Maura informed me that we were going nowhere which was when I knew that I was not the only one feeling bad. I hate to say that I was a little relieved. I did not want Maura to have to be caretaking me and mess up her trip. Thankfully, neither of us, (very much thankfully) got very sick. I guess it was a mild virus.. or perhaps the cheese sandwiches we ate that may have been opened more than 3 days ago. They don’t believe in the overdosing of food with chemicals so that they last for months the way we do in America. We were supposed to eat it within three days of opening it. The main thing is that it wasn’t too bad.

By noon the sun had come out and we decided that it would be good for the healing process to get out in it, especially as it was supposed to rain for the next 3-4 days. One thing I have learned, however… they have island weather here. I had a friend who grew up on St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands and they had a saying there.. “You don’t like the weather? …. “Wait a minute.”

I think it is a lot like that here. Weather reports are really just suggestions… Kinda like red lights.

So we got on the Citibus and headed for Green Point to book our Safari. Maura thought the brochure there had sounded cheaper. It wasn’t, but we booked it for Saturday anyway. It’s two hours away and we have to be waiting on our transport at 6:30 am. This means we must go to bed right after Maura’s phone interview for job in Chicago next fall and my medicine. I am going to put the phone alarm next to her ear. I don’t really need it to go off an hour before I need to get up. Thirty something years of having to be at school at 7:30 had trained my body to wake up in the morning… her little two years at West Oak didn’t make a dent in her body rhythms.

Even though the South African winters are nothing compared to Chicago, and not even winter in terms of South Carolina, with no heat and a high humidity, we are getting cold; and Maura did not pack enough warm clothing. So we left our Safari store and went to a sports store looking for something warm for her. It was pretty expensive but had a Pic and Pay next door that had some relatively inexpensive fleece. Maura got two coats and I got a zippered vest (with zippered pockets YEA!) which was really thick and warm and much easier for getting around with my sling. In spite of what my bone doctor said, I will not be off my sling anytime soon… certainly not before I get home and see him again. I am not pain free and feel pretty sure surgery is in my future… not for the bone they originally showed me the picture of but the joint where the collarbone meets the shoulder… let’s just say that it doesn’t move the way it should and any movement sends messages to my brain that this is not a good idea. I also picked up a pair of feetless tights. I very useful item that keeps my legs warm and makes my two pairs of shorts (with the good pockets) usable.

 I thought at this point, a little walk on Queeen’s Beach and a bus ride to the waterfront to check out a trip to Robben’s Island where Mandela was imprisoned for so long and we’d be done.. but Maura had evidently been cured and wanted to return to Hout Bay. I must admit that, barring  the drive to Cape Breton or Pierce, Quebec, it is one of the prettiest drives I’ve ever been on…. In all the weathers we’ve ridden it…. And Jesus Lord, thank you for not having a seizure on some of the roads I have driven with my family in tow. You have been so good to me.

From Hout Bay, we did go to the Waterfront and order our tickets to Robben’s Island for the Monday before our return. I also bought postcards and souvenirs there…preferring to overpay for things that went for a good cause. I went from there to the Sea Rescue booth. I wanted to get shirts for Nicholas and Lydia (matching… for a joke) but they were strangely sized so I had to be content with a visor and key chain.

At this point, Maura decided she was hungry… immediately… but when I suggested pub or fried food might not be exactly the best start to her stomach after no food all day then she got sick again… so we took a taxi home (overpaid for it because it wasn’t metered) and ate toast. I was pretty hungry having felt better earlier than Maura and had yogurt and granola and trail mix, too.. but the nuts inside the m£m’s were not very good and I kind of wish I hadn’t.

We talked to Kerry before bed and heard the saga of the ac. We totally owe Don big time. I don’t think anyone else would have done it. I really do think we should ask him to at least check out what we do in Port St. Joe. It pays to get it right the first time. It was such a mess. I’m glad my daddy never knew. He would have hated it.

Today we got up like good students and are the archives working.. or Maura is working. I am writing this blog… Now I will write postcards and feel very productive and worthwhile….

There is more to tell.. but Maura is really frustrated at my yelling at her computer and we need to chill so that we can sleep before our safari tomorrow

Another work week

Now I have three days to recreate. In a way, that should be easier because they have been work days either in the national library or the archives… and believe me there is nothing exciting to share about the work we do there.  It’s hard for me to imagine that someone is paying Maura to dig up information about how many carrots were planted in the 1800’s in the colony of South Africa and who paid what for barley and what land was considered good for the planting of English crops and how damn long it took for anything to be accomplished and who accompanied whom to ask about this and that. And long letters where it took lines and lines to say anything for the antiquated social mumbo jumbo that was evidently required of all correspondence. Actually, it reminded me a lot of the stuff that used to thrill my grandmother Fowler in those incredibly boring United Daughters of the Confederacy meetings, the mercifully few I attended where we sat around after years of reading meeting minutes and protocol readings before we discussed historical findings of letters or whatnot while my mind had long since wandered out the window  thinking how did anyone ever do this for fun….but again, I digress.  The language was similar as Maura was dictating to me from the extremely hard to read cursive handwriting and I was doing my best to type it into her Macbook (which I am never good at anyway) BW… Before the Wreck, I was actually pretty good at this, but I didn’t realize how much predicting I did and how much I counted on the phrasing and the words making sense… add into that the problems I’ve had since my concussion spelling even easy words and I was not as much help as I should have been. When the handwriting was larger and darker and more legible, it was easier for me to read to her… actually at that point, she found it easier to read from the document and type so I went back to recreating the blog for our weekend.

Monday was supposed to be our early start.. waking up with my alarm at 7, taking the laundry and getting off to the national library… only somehow I had turned my alarm off and neither of us woke up until 8… so the laundry had to wait because documents had already been ordered at the library and there is a 24 hour waiting period to get them. The library is actually less than a block from our swank hotel… but it wasn’t quite THAT cheap… I keep telling myself. I did go by to check to see if I had somehow dropped on of my medicines out of my suitcases when we repacked. I’m such an old lady pill taker that I have one of those weekly pill boxes and when I went to refill it at our new abode I was missing my…. GASP… anti-depressant. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to drop cold turkey, especially when your new medicine says to tell your doctor if you start giving away all of your things and start feeling suicidal (Don’t worry, I  haven’t) I called Kerry to see if I had left them at home and he couldn’t find them. No one had turned them in.. not that they probably would although it’s not the thing a druggie would really want… so I guess it will remain a mystery. I can and will restart them when I get home without any major issues… Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.

So… in spite of a really beautiful, sunny day… we worked… and there is not much to say about that. s

On Tuesday, we got up with the alarm… Let us say that I got up with the alarm and put the hot water on and FINALLY dragged my daughter out of bed… whose work we were going to do… and we got our laundry to the place where for a mere 75 rand they agreed to wash, dry and fold our clothes… an extreme bargain anywhere!!!

Tuesday was a national archives day and another absolutely beautiful day… for working  with molding, fragile documents, of course

I came in more handy here…. Especially as there is no internet there. First I must confess to dragging Maura back to the place with great and cheap milk tarts and to a post office where when we got the the lady and asked for international postcard stamps she had to send us to the man in the next box because she had not a clue where they were. When I ordered 30, he thought I had lost my mind. I explained that I was a teacher and had made promises and that I also had a large family... then, of course, I had to go quickly buy some overpriced postcards as I knew there would be no internet and Maura would be taking pictures… She was not overly happy with me.

But it turns out I was more useful in the archives. You have to sign up for a room to take pictures and get limited time so while Maura looked up what she needed, I actually took the pictures then returned the manuscript volumes (with my right hand) to the desk. I could also take her slips requesting new ones. I was especially helpful when she realized that her camera battery was dying and she didn’t have her charger. Thank you Ethan.. I had my cool iphone 5 with its very nice camera. (In order to connect with one of my students who is very into the newest cell phone and any other technology.. I bought myself my first smart phone.)

We were not quite finished with what we had by the time they were ready for us to go.. we had the room until 4 but at 3:30, the rest of the people had left and they were definitely wondering when we were going… so we finished all but the last manuscript book and signed up for 8-12 the next day… and Maura said we would get a cab… and what time would that cab be coming Maura???? (It came between 8-8:30)

We hadn’t eaten since the milk tarts (and Maura’s bread) so we stopped downtown but couldn’t agree on anything so we went back and ate at the burger joint that was so crowded on a Saturday and was deserted at 4:30. I had my chick peas and lentil sloppy joe, this time with the disco fries (covered with tomato relish, onions, sauce and melted mozzarella cheese.. not bad). After we finished and waited an eternity while the waitress, one of four blond haired pony tailed look alikes who could barely remember we were there, thought to bring us our check, I sent Maura to get our laundry. She returned before our waitress, but we finally did pay and trudged up the hill to our apartment and bed.

Most of the time I sleep well, but when I have trouble, it’s bad and I hate it. I was so tired. We both were. But I couldn’t sleep. Part of it was being too tired. Sometimes when you are too tired it’s harder to sleep. Part of it was starting a Tony Hill novel. I started a Mark Childress.. who writes historical mysteries kind of like Maisie Dobbs (which if you haven't read that mystery series you should go to Amazon right now and buy the first one) but then I realized it was a sample. And then, I started the Tony Hill without realizing it was him… and by the time I did… well, they’re good…. But dark… really too dark to be reading here…. Because here is hard for me. I am a rich person. I know that I am one of the haves. I also know that I come from haves that have been generous. My daddy was one of the most giving persons I’ve ever known. But giving would never be enough here. The need is too great. Some of the young men who beg here are tough and territorial. They have a turf and they protect it. They don’t allow anyone else to beg there. They treat it like a job, probably the only one they find open to them. Others, like the one that approached Maura and I yesterday outside the Clicks, do not appear comfortable or hardened. I’m hungry, he said.  This is some mother’s man child.. my heart responded even as I followed Maura into the Clicks. I wanted to find some bag of nuts. I wanted to help this one young man. I could see my own beloved son there. No one chooses this. It haunted me as I tried to sleep.

And nothing prevents sleep like worrying about it. I took Dramamine early.. but if it ever had any effect I never felt it.  There were times I was almost there… and then I wasn’t… nothing worked… deep even breaths… shaking the feet… and of course, I thought if I could just roll over on my left side… but I think rebreaking my collar bone might wake me up….

I did dream, and therefore sleep after I heard the children above getting ready for school….

We took our taxi to the archives and put in our 3 ½ hours of picture taking then came home. Today it rained while we were in the archives so.. not so hard to be there working… We tried the simply Asia restaurant at the other corner of our block… I ordered hot… it was not… an occasional bite at best. The sun came out… Maura worked and researched cars and tourist destinations while I napped… the room was cold and my bed was warm and I did manage to sleep some… hopefully I will do more so tonight…. And now you have caught up with our exciting adventures at the bottom of the world… or close to it.

The Weekend

This will be a real workout for my brain. I have not done well with memory work and now I will be trying to recreate two days in the past... wish me luck.

Saturday...

I believe it began with 12 hours of sleep, desperately needed. We still had a day on our blue bus pass and had yet to visit the botanical gardens and since we had slept most of the morning away, it seemed that that was probably what we were going to get out of the day we had left on our pass. The weather called for only 10% chance of rain until 6 pm so the odds were in our favor to get our walk in before the rain if we dressed and left.

We made a great discovery on our way to the waterfront to catch our bus... a little dive with questionable food in a lighted window but who made us great egg and cheese sandwiches from scratch (definitely not fast food... which I discovered why this morning when I got today's breakfast. It is prepared beforehand and put in the window to sell later) on brown seeded bread for just over three dollars. We ate it on our walk and got coffee once we got there. (I also found a local food bank organization to donate to to ease my conscience about all the beggars we passed along the way, one who smiled at me and actually did seemed to appreciate that I acknowledged him with my eyes even though I did not give him money. I did not, of course, have time to do research; but I took some papers and it seemed a safe bet.)By the time we boarded the bus, it was raining and we opted for the covered seats on top. We sat on the front row but as there was no windshield wiper the view was pretty limited

We rode through the rain to the botanical gardens and regretted that we brought only one umbrella but not that we had come. It was so beautiful, even in the rain. It was the only walk I've even been on with Maura where she didn't complain even once. She took more pictures than me because my phone, unlike her little camera, was not waterproof. We both are determined to return, in the sun or in the rain. We just did not have time to do it justice because we only had a few hours before the last bus of the day. It was all wonderful but the walkway over the trees was spectacular and I took a video but I'm not sure I'm good enough to post it.. or that it would do it justice.. we really just got enough to piss us off, so to speak. They had a huge flower of the one growing outside our apartment which may be one of the most unique flowers I've ever seen. I also feel in love with the quiver tree... which is vulnerable... which I think is what we call threatened which is just under endangered, but maybe it's a level under threatened. I need to look that up but just have not had the intenet time to do so. We did manage to grab some more postcard and I have written and stamped cards to all my students. Now if i can just manage to get them into the mail.

I am so bad without a mouse that I will now stop trying to arrange the pictures. As you can see, even in the rain, it was so worth it. However, we were soaked through and through by the time we got back on the bus. I smelled like a wet sheep in my wool shirt and jacket but poor Maura had on jeans and a jacket that was supposedly water repellent but had absorbed at least a bucket worth and we still had a lot of road to go. We moved downstairs on the us where it was a bit warmer. We also had the bus mostly to ourselves. We picked up a few more people at the World of Birds (which is another place I wouldn't mind seeing) and some other ritsy kind of place that I can't remember at the moment, and at Hout Bay where people had been eating, not out on the boats.. although I still hold out  hopes for a trip to Boulder Beach and the penguins...We rode the high rode through Camp's Bay which was beautiful once again, and probably would have been even more so from the top deck but we passed. It wasn't raining quite so hard but was quite windy and colder and we were quite wet. We were trying to decide whether to eat before going home or going home and getting dry and then coming back out and Maura kept changing her mind, but we finally got off at Green Point so that Maura could take a beautiful sunset picture... only she didn't notice the empty swimming pool to her left or we would have never gotten off there. (My daughter has an absolute phobia of empty swimming pools. I have to admit that we have run across some pretty creepy ones.. the best/worst being one at James Island with things growing out of it that seems a perfect location for a murder mystery.... I think it stems from a trip in her early childhood to the Biltmore Estates in Asheville, North Carolina where they had an Olympic size pool for the family. She was sure when we entered the house that giants must live here... But once again, I digress.

We took our sunset picture and like the mean mama I am I pointed out the empty pool and Maura grabbed me and hid her face and started in the other direction.

Up the hill  we eventually found a mutually satisfactory Thai place where I had green curry this time, a bit hotter with different veggies and once again more than enough to bring half of it home... especially since we started with spring rolls. There was also this adorable chocolate lab puppy in the table beside us that reminded me of our beloved Hujambo. If we do get to retire to Port St. Joe and live long enough to need another dog (God forbid the thought of outliving our present beloveds), we might need to consider adopting a lab. They are such water dogs... but I'm not sure that we could ever be without at least one boxer in our lives.

Needless to say, by the time we got home, we were exhausted ... and still soaked! We used the hairdryer to dry ourselves as much as possible and hung our clothes over every possible available space.. but the humidity is such that I don't think anything will every dry... a laundry service is an inevitable part of our future.


Sunday
... I convinced Maura that we should be heathen.. or at least that we should attend the jazz eventide and not find a morning service.. i managed to twist her arm without breaking it and we managed more hours of sleep. again, desperately needed by at least one of us... and then the sun came out and even though we really needed to do many things... including clean our bodies.. we opted for the beach and grabbed out Citi bus passes and maura her bathing suit (also eliminating the need for a clean bra) and headed to Whale Rock.

 It was as bright and beautiful as it was rainy and foggy the day before. The waves were huge and the rocks go well out into the ocean making it easy to understand how so many ships met their sad end here. On the bus ride to the beach there were many school children walking together in groups... clubs, scouts... whatever the uniformed groups are here.. with staffs and smiles making their way to the various Clifton beaches where the walk to the beach determines the status of who goes there. Whale Rock is for those tourist who aren't interested in swimming or surfing although there were some people with those beach surfer boards who seemed to be having a good time. It was also home to some. There were some bushes near the water that the child in me wanted to explore as they provided shelter from the wind in inviting little caves but they provided shelter from scarier monsters and carried with them the fear that pervades poverty of both the poor and the rich that surround them. Maura and I sat on the rocks and she disrobed enough to gather some sun on her pale white skin in hopes of looking good in her yellow bridesmaid dress for Leah's wedding in July. I guess winter South African sun gives m

ore tan than no sun at all. The rock was pretty hard but she managed to turn once and give both sides a chance to soak up some ultra violet cancer. Meantime, I watched the waves and thought once again what a perfect metaphor the ocean is for the divine... so beautiful and majestic and fierce.. how can it not be respected and for many of us loved. it is wild and free and can never be put in a box and contained and explained and made to behave or perform in a certain way. like God, it follows certain patterns and rules, but it is not to be dictated.

 We caught the bus back to Green Point not wanting to push our luck with the rain and found the South African equivalent of the dollar store or in my day the five in dime ... the five rand. Here we looked for hair fixes... something to hide my hair... Maura did better than i did... another umbrella... fail.. they only had large.... and i found large warm black tights ...one size fit some that actually did... at least once... maybe not after they are washed once... and then scored another big plus on a great Indian place. Kerry would have loved it. Maura ordered medium and hers was almost too hot for her to eat. He didn't ask me so I went up to the cash register and told him I wanted mine hot.. and it was almost , but not quite too hot. And plenteous... I now have great leftover... also because Maura's salad came with dressing that was too hot for her but perfect for me.

...
We came home tired and dirty but satisfied. I broke down and let Maura help me in the bath to wash my hair, filling my popcorn tub with warm water so I didn't have to turn around and rebrake my collarbone.

And we didn't make it to church. Maura actually wasn't too hard to convince... i guess that makes me a pretty heathen mother, huh.

We did get to talk to Shosha and Matt and our newest granddog Eno on google video.  Nicholas was there but Lydia was stuck in Charleston... in the hot I later found out.. what a bummer. The boxers think we should all live together in a pile at our house... sometimes I think they have the right idea.

So I may have left out some but I declare my brain amazingly successful at piecing together the last two days of our weekend when it's barely been able to remember the day before. I think it is slowly but surely healing and for that I am immensely grateful.

First Friday

The next day of our working holiday… is another name for a working holiday a busman’s holiday?… I believe that’s the name of a Dorothy Sayer’s novel… the one where Lord Peter Wimpsey and Harriet Vane have their honeymoon, but it’s been years since I’ve read it. Of course, they must solve a murder while there, or why else would we be reading about it… but I digress again.

I foolishly bragged to Maura that I had gone to sleep the night before without drugs. The good book does say how pride goeth before a fall. It seemed to take me forever to go to sleep, and then when I finally did go to sleep, I got a call in the middle of the night from a friend in the States who was unaware I guess of the time difference. I missed the call having deliberately left the phone far from the bed to force myself up for the alarm set to take my medicine. It seems like I had barely gotten to sleep before the real alarm for my medicine went off. It did seem so unfair, and Maura seemed in no mood to be the adult with her mother there to play that role so eventually I got up and performed that duty.

We decided to take the bus to our switch and eat breakfast there and then go to the archives. Well, actually, we had a discussion. I thought we should get off at Riebeek and eat and get postcards and then hop back on and switch. Maura thought there was nothing there but an adult store. She thought there was more at Darling after the switch. It turns out we were both right, and wrong. The stop at Riebeek was actually at Long Street which has everything you could ever want to buy in life which means we could have bought postcards, food, etc. However, Darling was a place where real people shopped… so no postcards, but real coffee for a buck; a huge milk tart, half a loaf of bread, and a bottle of juice for two bucks more and a place to go back for the turban I’m really going to need soon along with anything else real at a market where working people shop… both on the street with venders and in an enclosed mall. Maura gets a bit nervous going off the beaten path like that… we were slightly lost for a bit… but it felt a bit more like our family’s travels to me and ended up being right at our bus stop.

There is no internet at the archives which makes Maura very productive and I was actually able to be very helpful to her today. Once she had written her information (in pencil of course) I was able to whisper her source information to her so that she could type it into her excel sheet and cut her time in half… maybe even less… and certainly took some pain off her back. Yea!!! I am here for a reason and not useless because of my wreck.

I have been feeling really discouraged about my students. I may be thousands of miles away, but they still have the power to break my heart. Two of them were sitting in ISS yesterday and one (not in ISS) informed me that his mother was definitely not letting him go to Camp Greenville. Bad behavior choices have consequences, I know… but I am so disappointed. And I am afraid that because he’s not going another of my boys will choose not to go, fearing he will not have a good time without him. They are so fearful, although they would never admit it. I might could convince them if I were there… but that is part of it. I’m not there. They trust me, but it’s taken me a year to get there. I know I have to let it go.  As hard as coming here has been physically, it would have been harder to stay. Even though I was so physically tired, the lack of mental stress was so noticeable those first few days that it was like a physical release. And of course, Camp Greenville is physically challenging as well.

It is another beautiful day in Cape Town, South Africa. That is academic self-discipline on Maura’s part. It is a perfect day to be out on the water or up on the mountain and here we are working in the archives. She should get an award. She was worried about me whispering her numbers and information to her a while ago and right now it sounds like a coffee shop in here. These old people looking up their family history do not understand about whispering…. For that matter, I don’t believe the male species knows how to whisper. We do this exercise at school where we put our hand on our throats and feel for the vibrations and compare whispering with non-whispering. (Most of mine can’t really whisper either, of course)

Oh Lord, he just put Maura’s number on 3 more boxes. We’re libel to be here for quite a while. OOOPs….. that was yesterday’s number. Maybe there’s hope for a little sunshine time.. but Maura’s off looking for more stuff so maybe not… time for me to quit blathering on the blog and start blathering on emails though…..

A reprieve finally arrived and we bought our tickets on the double decker bus with the open air seats on top. It was totally worth it. We waited next to the old Dutch castle (really a fort) that was once next to the ocean. The Dutch are really good at recovering land from under water.

 Our trip through town included the beautiful Bo Kaap area where beautifully colored houses were built by slaves who were never allowed color in their clothing so when they were set free made sure that color was included in every part of their lives.

 Then we headed up Table Mountain where the top of the double decker paid for itself with the fantastic views. We took both videos and photos with my phone. And Maura informed me that I was terrible at selfies, as if I didn't know. I hate having my picture taken.. why would I be good at taking my own?!?!?

The air on top was cool and much freer of the smog that permeates Cape Town. It bothers Maura more than me, but no one can escape it. So we just rode on and never got off through Camp's Bay.. where the super rich and famous live and the surf is 14 ft and crashes on the rock and were we later in the summer we could see the rare right whales.

Because of the kelp and rocky shoreline, there is no swimming on the beach so all of the rich people have their own swimming pools. There was a beautiful black and white Great Dane lying by one and he had only moved about three feet in the hour between our first and second pass. It is a truly beautiful place.

We stopped at the waterfront where we road the elevator Ferris Wheel and took the canal ride. It rode through more multi-million dollar flats with cormorants and ducks and one woman paddle boarding. Then, we got back on the bus and went to the street markets where we were offered the best prices from everybody... end of the day prices, South African prices, beautiful lady prices.. we were so lucky... but we were not buying today... except for some postcards from stores for my aunts and my students.

At this point it was back on the bus to find some food by way of another pass over the beautiful Table Mountain by way of District Six, a vibrant community of mixed races that was dismantled by apartheid and razed to the ground and left undeveloped due to the international controversy which ironically allowed indigenous plants to regrow there. (Maura thinks there may be an article there.)

 We found delicious Thai in Green Point for $18 including tip and took a taxi home. A conversation with hubby and a teasing calling to the dogs and it's almost time for bed. I am sincerely hoping to sleep after my morning medicine alarm.  

Day 3 of my blog... whatever day it really is

We left the national library feeling very accomplished, and once again, very hungry… or what Americans call hungry. We decided to get more for our money this time and I thought we should try a fish and chips. Maura picked the snack size portion in case the fish actually resembled a fish. I should have followed her lead because they brought out a huge plate of fish and fries. She was also right because it did indeed look like a fish having scales on the bottom side next to the plate and a few bones to boot. It was well prepared and I cared little that they brought salt and vinegar which I have never cared for but covered mine with juice from the slice lime. Neither of us bothered much with the tomato sauce that passed for catsup but the fries were already seasoned. This time when a man approached me with his small child he asked for food. I was so taken aback that all I could do was nod and say of course as I grabbed a handful of fries and put them on to a napkin thinking I would not want the child to choke on bones. I would have given him the whole plate but he had thanked me and left before my hands could follow my thoughts. Now my whole blog is not going to be wallowing in white man’s guilt but neither will I apologize for it. We have in abundance, and even those of us who share, do not come close to the need. And the truth is that individual sharing will never meet the need until the systems that trap people is such poverty are dismantled. I am re-reading Cry the Beloved Country, one of many books that prophesied the judgment that awaited the sins of colonial South Africa. I am glad that I do not sit in judgment because I am hoping for lots of mercy myself. But I feel that the cries of the poor will not be ignored forever. There is a reckoning coming. I may be careful about giving money, but I hope that I will never refuse food.

We had it in mind to go to Queen’s Beach or the Waterfront, but when our bus passed by our apartment, we just couldn’t resist stopping just to drop our stuff off… and just to lie down for a bit… and just to use the heating pad on my shoulders just a bit… about an hour later… we dragged ourselves up and walked over to the waterfront and did our bit of tourism, checking out what a safari

 would cost, taking pictures in front of the ships and touristy stuff and finally riding the overpriced elevator ferris wheel which went around  a whopping 4 times… not counting the fifth time when we got to stop on top and because I truly love my daughter I did not make it rock, not even a little.

 It was this huge, air-conditioned box. No open air, no feeling the ocean breeze…. But the scenery was nice, and there was a calypso band on one side and a group of men singing on the other… okay it was really touristy.. but we were in Cape Town, South Africa and I thought we should do it and it’s for sure that Maura would not have done it without me.