South Africa: the good, the bad and the ugly

It has been a busy three plus months in South Africa, what with settling in, school and the drive to have as many adventures as possible in any and all downtime (a quest not conducive to weekend studying and essay writing). I genuinely feel like I live here and in my mind this country now qualifies as home.

It’s a funny thing – I had been planning my escape from Vancouver for years, ever since I moved back from Australia. The longer I stayed, the sadder I was. While beautiful, Vancouver has always left me feeling less than inspired - I always believed it a city great for other people but not for me. By leaving, I hoped to find… it’s hard to pinpoint… inspiration, adventures, history, a city with soul, a more organic environ. While ultimately my heart lies in Boston/NYC/Sydney, I have found something in Cape Town remiss in my world for quite some time. Now, I feel genuine pleasure every time I step outside. The beauty of the city, its organic-ness, the disorganized mess of colours, the lushness…and the sunsets make me feel excited about life. I think since my brother’s death I really lost my spark, and now I can feel it starting to filter back in – and it feels fantastic in the moments when it does.

In fact, it will be odd when I leave SA to once again live somewhere where organization and timeliness exist, where the internet always works, where making any phone call doesn’t cost a fortune, where the quality of food (including the five star restaurants) is once again decent, where you don’t have to worry about your security quite so much…that being said, this country is slowly getting under my skin and I find myself charmed by its physical beauty and many of the people I have befriended. I have certainly met some characters and had some amazing experiences. I often find myself thinking that I am really lucky to lead the life I do – being a free spirit is definitely under rated.

In South Africa, the people are both a blessing and a curse. I could write a lot of exceedingly unflattering things, observations conceded by most every expat and foreigner I meet, save those who come from even worse environments– but have also made some wonderful friends here and would hate to ever offend them by making sweeping generalizations that, while widespread, do not in any way, shape or form apply to them. I will however say this: living here has made me incredibly proud to be Canadian/German/Australian, and I am grateful to have been raised in the culture(s) that I was. In the eyes of the world, we might be polite pushovers, but I’ll take that over some of the shocking attitudes of entitlement, total disregard for basic manners and desperate social climbing that I bear witness to on a daily basis living in the Western Cape. But I digress…I should highlight my travels more and the societal disappointments that exist less.

I am recently returned from a sojourn up north, to the provinces of Gauteng and Limpopo, as well as a safari at the Pilanesburg game reserve. The safari was undertaken with my most colourful Vancouver friend, Jen and her sidekick Brad. Familiar faces were a welcome sight and it was nice to hear Canadian accents again – it has been a while, and there aren’t many of us in this country. We went on a camping safari, meaning that while we had a guide who did our cooking, driving etc, we had to erect and sleep in tents. I half expected a bushman Afrikaaner with guns and an unintelligible brogue, but our guide was in fact Scottish, with a full blown Edinburgh accent and pasty complexion to match. During our stay we were lucky enough to spot lions, rhinos, hippos, giraffes, zebras, elephants and a leopard, as well as various lizards, birds, turtles and antelope and springbok like animals…and a monkey with sky blue balls. The highlight was a sunset drive in the open safari truck – watching the sun go down over the spectacular scenery was breathtaking. I really cannot do it justice beyond saying that everyone should go on a safari at least once. There is something so tranquil about being out in the middle of the African wilderness, no other humans around for miles…surrounded by nature and animals – and knowing that you are in their territory. It’s a very peaceful experience.

Following the drive and a tasty braai prepared by our Scotsman, Jen and I headed off for some skinny dipping. While in the water, we could hear strains of house music coming from the woods…unexpected to say the least. Curiosity aroused and lit by a full moon, we followed the music until we found the source: not African drummers but rather a hilarious, green hooch swilling South African weatherman, straight out of the movie Anchorman (I swear), who invited us to celebrate St Paddy’s Day with him. Even in the wilds of Africa those of good Irish stock are enjoying a drink … Of course we obliged, and things were soon messy, with the camp guards asking us to shut it a number of times. When we finally returned to our tent two hours before the 5 am wake up call, I was at least tired enough that I could sleep through the animal noises coming from the sleeping bag beside me (Jen’s snoring, not a lion).

We also spent some time in Pretoria, a city about which I can’t find much exciting to say - it's a bit of a throwback. We ended up at the city’s nicest hotel thanks to Brad’s points, right across from the historic Union buildings – the location of the RSA government. For the most part, Pretoria is verging on the dilapidated. A shame really, because you can tell it was once a beautiful city. The entire CBD is considered unsafe for whites (it’s Zulu territory), and Jen and I unsuspectingly ended up in the city’s most dangerous neighbourhood while having dinner one night. We definitely had the feeling something was off, and when our driver came to fetch us, he basically herded us into the car as quickly as he could before speeding away. We also enjoyed partying Hatfied Square, the centre of the city’s nightlife. It’s a pretty fun area, a big square surrounded by maybe 30 restaurants, clubs, pubs and bars – in between which you can walk freely with your drinks. A good, if slightly tipsy time was had by all until our driver failed to show up at 2 am when it was time to head back to the hotel. In SA there is no such thing as hail-able street taxis, nor is there really any public transportation (unless you want to get on a minibus where if you aren’t murdered, you’ll be mugged).

We also visited Johannesburg for a couple of days – I was intrigued by ‘the world’s most dangerous city’ moniker. We hired a local driver who works for a CBS news correspondent Jen knows (figuring this would buy us good access), and were treated to a tour of Hillbrow (apparently SA’s most dangerous neighbourhood). As a white, you can only go in the daylight, you best not get out of the car, and you do not under any circumstances get caught taking photos. The area was featured in one of my favourite movies of recent times, District 9. It definitely felt scary and shady, and the Nigerian drug dealers were indeed plentiful. We also toured Soweto, including a rip off lunch on Vilakazi Street and a stop by Nelson Mandela’s former home, Winnie Mandela and Desmond Tutu’s current homes, and a drive by of Mandela’s residence in Houghton. I spent the rest of my time in Sandton and Melrose Arch – both nice areas very much in contrast to the burnt out war zone feel of the Johannesburg CBD.

The other highlight of the trip, and one I highly recommend anyone who comes to SA undertake, was a trip to The Ranch, a resort just outside of Polokwane. For those who saw and liked my lion photos – this is where they were taken. It’s a fantastic spot, situated on a game reserve, with semi–tame and wild lions, as well as lots of babies, which are too cute for words. Their squeaky little roars are the funniest noises…there were also some baby hyenas on hand, and apparently I just missed baby tigers. The Shearer family were excellent hosts – such nice and hospitable people, and activities included muddy off-roading in a rainstorm (it was nice to see a Land Rover being put to proper use and not just for yuppie transportation), and seadoing at a lake side cottage that looked like a scene straight out of Muskoka. Unfortunately, I managed to flip the seado. Fortunately, it still worked, though my pride was a little damaged. I also spent the night in a luxury tent by a rushing stream, including an ice cold swim in the morning (very Canadian) – which means that I have now slept in tents four times in my life – three more then before I came to Africa. I must also say, regarding Limpopo and Johannesburg - before coming to SA, I envisioned that my friend circle would include people of all colours; it is the supposed rainbow nation after all. But in the Western Cape there is a fairly defined separation between ethnic groups. In Gauteng and Limpopo, the same does not apply and everyone intermingles as a normal society – it was nice to actually spend time with some awesome black people.

Another stellar outing: A couple of weekends ago, I went on an overnight camping trip with an international contingent to Kogel Baie (Pronounced Cool Bay), a stunning, surfer friendly beach on the Atlantic coast en route to Hermanus. Our group included three Dutch (I love the Dutch, such down to earth, laidback people), two Americans, two Canadians, and two South Africans. Despite the howling winds which deposited a lot of sand in our braai, it was amazing. The sand was white powder, the stars were out in full force, the crashing waves were soothing to fall asleep to, and there were phosphorescents in the water! Every time we jumped in a puddle or even took a step in the ocean, it lit up with bright yellow sparkles that flew around our feet. It literally felt like being in a video game where every step we took was infused with magic. It was beyond cool – it blew my mind! Unfortunately in the morning I was the first riser and decided to take a walk on the beach – it looked deserted for miles. But once I had trekked maybe two km down the way I was harassed by drunk, coloured men. It’s a sad fact of life here that no matter how beautiful a vista is you cannot enjoy it alone (even in the middle of nowhere) and that your safety must always be your first priority.

Later that day we made the miscalculation of taking the train from Stellenboch to Cape Town – a mistake that lead to my first real run in with crime (other than the world’s stupidest car accident). The trains here are disgusting – full on ghetto and not a wise choice for whites in groups of smaller than 5. We were three, girls, white and with large bags…so probably asking for it. As soon as we hopped on the train I had the feeling it was a very bad idea, and sure enough not ten minutes into the ride one of our group was mugged. The muggers, who had the dead eyes of drug addicts and took off into a township as soon as the doors opened, only escaped with a new blackberry. Still, it was incredibly unsettling, and made the next hour of the train ride extremely tense as we wondered what other criminals might get on the train at each township stop.

One afternoon after class I went down the coast to see a wild penguin colony with a population of thousands in the most picturesque setting imaginable. They really are the cutest. One was holding his head up in the wind with a look of sheer ecstasy on his little face as it ruffled his feathers. Others were chilling in their penguin dens watching the humans watch them. They waddle along, always on the verge of tipping forward yet miraculously never do. I have always adored penguins with their unique personalities, and I was charmed.

Another weekend we made the trek to Crystal Pools, a local baboon infested cliff jumping destination up the road from the Strand. It’s an exhausting hour plus hike up a mountainside in the hot sun to reach the pools, but well worth it. Along the way you pass a number of baboons who are completely unphased by humans, and in fact regularly attack. They are incredibly intelligent, recognizing and targeting bags that may contain food – hence you must cover all bags with towels to prevent attack. The pools are an ascending series of five, with fresh, icy mountain water for swimming (filled with tadpoles and frogs) and rocky waterfalls that you can climb. I have to say, despite my fear of heights, scrambling up waterfalls and giant rocks in my bikini was amazingly fun. I only managed to jump off the lower cliffs, leaving the 50 metre plus cliffs to the brave souls and show offs.

I have begun volunteering one afternoon per week with a small scale United Nations sponsored initiative –the Kayamandi Literacy Project, where we help township elementary students with their spoken English and reading. I was nervous at first – I have never felt an inclination towards teaching and it can feel daunting when a group of 12 children and their assistant are sitting there staring at you. However, the work is really satisfying, and the children are charming, with distinct little personalities that shine through (I’ve never been the most maternal, so I don’t spend much time with kids). It can be hard to get them to focus, the girls especially want to play with your hair (they aren’t used to the smoothness of white hair) and jewellery, and the little boys all compete for attention. I feel sad for these kids and really want to help them rise above the lots they were born into. They are after all the future of SA and this country has a long way to go before equality is widespread.

Through this activity I now recognize that I have led such an incredibly privileged life. I was spoiled rotten as a child, spending my summers in Europe and having almost every toy I could imagine, and probably never really appreciated any of it. Yet despite my upbringing, I thought that I understood the world. But between my travels in the Middle East, South America and here I realize that I didn’t understand anything – and I haven’t even been to India yet! It’s strange – sometimes when I’m in these areas, I almost feel as if I’m on a movie set – that it can’t be real, and that real people cannot actually live in this way – it MUST be staged. What kind of a life could that be? As we drove through the township back to Stellenbosch it occurred to me that the old LV purse in which I carry my school books is probably worth more money then many of these people see in even ten years. And at that moment I felt deeply ashamed and a little ridiculous.

Last weekend was particularly interesting. On Friday I joined a group of international students for an escorted trip into two famous Cape Town townships (you DON’T go there without a local) – Gugulethu and Langa. These townships are rife with history – famous anti apartheid protests, killings and whatnot. It is sickening what the government here did to black people. They treated them more as animals than humans – it is no wonder that this country now faces the crime problems that it does. We visited various community spots including an arts centre, walked through the streets, and a drove through the business areas where we saw the witch doctor (sangoma) supply shop and the various sheds that form the central marketplace of township life. We also went into one of the homes to meet an elderly lady, and saw how she lived in shockingly cramped, smelly (but typical) quarters. And yet she kept it impeccably tidy. She answered our prying questions about life in Langa, and we learned about the white families of the desperately social-climberish Constantia neighbourhood who hire these women at a young age to raise one to two generations of their children, while paying them a pittance. And then, when they are no longer needed or reach retirement age, they are given a severance of something ridiculous like R100 and sent on their way. No pension, no gratitude for the years of service. Nothing. This is indeed the type of thing that is very difficult to swallow. But the night finished on a high note with an excellent dinner at the famous Mzoli’s Grill restaurant, a massive, smoky tent filled with the music of African drums and the only place in the township where whites (tourists mostly) and blacks can be found intermingling and happily chowing on the best braai I have had in South Africa. It was a fantastic and thoroughly enjoyable experience that felt really authentic. An amazing place, though perhaps a little daunting to get to due to its township location.

I also spent a great day with my friend Luke, who took me on a tour of many places I have yet to see in the region – despite the hurricane force winds(we estimated 70 km/hour). Our outing included the scenic drive to Chapman’s Peak (all I can say is wow!), and a turn in the antique shops of Hout Bay and Noord Hook, as well as some stellar ice cream and a leisurely stop in one of the area’s wine farms where I drank all of my wine and his as well. We attempted to visit a really beautiful beach, but I literally got sand burn from the wind, so this activity was short-lived. I also enjoyed dinner at my favourite Cape Town eatery which is always a treat, the Side Walk Café perched high on the side of Table Mountain, and one of the very few restaurants (actually only the second so far) that rivals the quality of food we enjoy back home.

I’m sure I’m missing a million stories, but have been too busy with school to update regularly. In future I will make a better effort at regularity and save myself the effort of writing 5,000 word updates!

Settling into South Africa

I’m closing in on three weeks in South Africa now (tomorrow is the official anniversary – and my birthday – I’m sad to not be able to spend it with friends and family from home). While I still love it here, the last week or so has been an emotional roller coaster as I have struggled to cope with pretty intense home sickness. It’s not that I want to be back in Vancouver, because I don’t. But I miss so badly being able to pick up the phone and chat to someone who actually knows me…and I miss talking nonsense with my friends. Here I am in this gorgeous country, and all I want to do is go hiking and for a body surf to the beach – and I don’t know anyone yet who wants to do the same things. I have to admit that this is throwing me for a loop – but it’s finally starting to get better as I am now meeting more people who aren’t 19 year olds. I’m actually feeling quite at home as I establish daily routines and the novelty wears off. I still think this is one of the most beautiful countries in the world and have to say that apart from missing friends, family and dog, I am content.

I spent an excellent last weekend with an old co-worker for whom I always had a soft spot – Stuart Marchant - and his awesome wife Elaine. They picked me up on the Friday afternoon, and we drove through the countryside and the rolling farmlands of the Western Cape, including townships, rainbow villages where the Cape coloured people live, to the seaside town of Langebaan where they have a retirement nest. I got to experience SA infrastructure at work, including massive road potholes and ridiculous traffic jams literally in the middle of nowhere. I also saw my first zebras, springboks and steerboks. Actually, from Stuart’s patio you can just sit and watch the “bokkies” as they call them, wander through the field. For a Canadian, this is exciting, as was their view of totally turquoise water and world class kite surfers at play. At night we would turn off all the lights and sit outside looking at the stars. There are so many more in the sky here – it looks totally different from the northern hemisphere.

Anyway, I digress. As well as it being great to see my old friends, the weekend involved way too much really good wine and port. Here the wine drinking starts at lunch, continues through dinner, and ends as a night cap. And the wines are absolutely incredible! We ate at some great beachfront restaurants, and I finally got to run into the ocean…it was damn cold! I also had the most South African Sunday imaginable, including watching morning cricket (my new crush Woakes plays for England), and drinking tea while eating a rusk – a South African biscotti type thing. The crowning glory of the weekend was attending my first braai where I was served Boerwurs. I have been hearing about this sausage non-stop from various people ever since I made the decision to come here. It was good! Much better than biltong which is basically the equivalent of the beef jerky red necks back home eat. I had tried it through an acquaintance once before and had to spit it out, so know better than to get sucked into having it again. My immersion into African-ess also continued as we saw some scams such as people by the roadside pretending to be out of gas, people wandering on the highway selling grapes out of boxes, random markets run by Nigerians selling sport jerseys in the middle of nowhere. I also encountered lots of drunk Bergies, these black people who live by the river and pretty much drink 24/7. They are harmless but smell appalling.

I had a really good weekend this week as well. After classes finished on Friday, I went with some classmates to the nearby town of Paarl and spent the afternoon drinking really good wine under a shady tree while chatting about traveling. It was pretty ideal. We then pulled a quick change and headed into Cape Town for the weekend. I really, really, really love Cape Town. We met up with yet more friends of theirs and had a group dinner at this fantastic little café up near the base of Table Mountain, drank jugs of Pimms (my new favourite hot weather drink – forget Sangria) and exploding champagne, and then headed into the CBD to hit up some wine bars and meet yet more interesting people. I think it was the best night out I’ve had in South Africa so far and I forgot all about my home sickness.

The next night I went to a braai in Constantia thrown by a former Alaskan co-worker which also turned out to be quite fun – had some good conversations, made a couple of new potential hiking friends…drank some good port…and was mesmerized by the greasiest mountain of meat I have ever seen. Then one of my new friends (yay, it feels good to use that word) picked me up relatively early so we could get a decent nights sleep for a 6 am sunrise hike up Lion’s Head. But unfortunately a good night’s sleep was not in the cards, as at 3:30 am the entire block was woken by the sound of screaming chainsaws. I thought gangsters were trying to cut down the security gate, but turned out that half a tree fell down in the middle of the street sometime after midnight and the city (god knows how they knew) brought in a big truck and a crew with chainsaws at that ungodly hour. Keeping in mind that a.) this is some obscure, low traffic side street, and b.) nothing in South Africa gets done quickly EVER, we were totally mystified as to where this crew materialized from at that time of night. It went on for well over an hour and the whole block came out in their pajamas to watch. It’s not like anyone was going to get sleep with that racket. Then, the electrical fence started short circuiting for the rest of the night – also a common thing to hear around here. Needless to say, I was supremely unstoked for the 6 am wake up call this morning. It was really foggy as well, so everyone bailed except for Nickel and I, and we hiked the mountain in zero visibility. It was a great hike, but gets really steep and slippery during the very last section. Maybe a little like the Chief in Squamish, with the ladders and chains – but with far narrower walk ways. When we reached the last two minute portion, there was a ladder you need to climb that kind of hangs off the rocks…I eventually made it up after lots of coaxing but in the end my fear of heights got the best of me and I just couldn't do the final stretch.. In my defense, there were lots of other scared people – so I’m not as wussy as I sound. One thing that impressed me on the hike was that every single person we passed said a friendly ‘good morning’. I love that people here are like that – you would never see this back home.  

Everyone, young and old goes to church here – it is a very Christian society. So, I decided to take my friend up on his invite to attend service. Bearing in mind that I have only been to church twice in my entire life, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was mostly in Afrikaans, so I just copied what everyone else did and it made for an entertaining morning. It’s the first time I have sung in a non karaoke bar in a very long time. We next drove through the larger scale and far more dangerous shanty town Kayalitsha on the way back to Stellenbosch – I believe the population is more than two million. This place is really intense –shacks upon shacks crammed in really tightly – some even have second floors. I think it’s quite dangerous to stop and take photos, so I didn’t. One thing that quite impressed me however, is how colourful the shacks are. They are literally a rainbow of sorbet tones. I think it demonstrates that people, no matter what their living conditions, can really take pride in their homes…and somehow the colour imbues a sense of optimism and happiness with their lot. Another interesting sight on the side of the highway was finally seeing the police hard at work (a rare/non existent thing in SA)). They were busy herding, manhandling and prodding stray cows that wandered out from the streets of the township onto the freeway. Seriously – you see the most random things happen along the side of the road in this country – I love it. Nickel also provided entertainment in the form of field stories from his medical work in Namibia, including the tale of a woman who brought her son in for treatment because she caught him having sex with the family dog.

My most disturbing run in of the week happened when I was washing my hair yesterday. A GIANT, hairy yellow rain spider appeared out of nowhere, dangling right in front of my face. I screamed and ran out of the shower. I thought about trying to drown it, but it was so big it never would have washed down the drain. So I had to trap it in a glass. I couldn’t rest comfortably knowing that thing was in the house with me.

I’ve also decided I am not anywhere near being ready to drive in this country, where they rip down the shoulders of the highway as if it were just another lane, going 120. So instead, I have bought my first bike in eons. The first day or two were pretty wobbly and embarrassing, but I’m actually getting used to it. Though I feel like a ridiculous dork with the basket I just had attached. Unfortunately I need it for my text books. Maybe I’ll buy some streamers for the handle bars and a glitter saddle next.

I have to say that we have the most spectacular sunsets here – really mind blowing. And to see the black silhouette of the African trees and Table Mountain against the orange sky is one of the best sights imaginable. Now that I own a bike, I’ve taken to going for a daily sunset cycle around the vineyards in Stellenbosch. It really is a fantastic life.

Western Cape, South Africa

Approaching the end of my first week in South Africa, and it is proving to be very much what I had expected.

Stellenbosch, my home town, is really more of an outer suburb of Cape Town. It is South Africa’s second oldest city, dating back to the 1600s and is remarkably well preserved -  many of the building are original or date back to the 1700/1800s. Stellenbosch is essentially a larger, hipper version of Napa or Sonoma, only the town itself is far nicer. It is literally surrounded on all sides by vineyards and mountains, and there are even a number of vineyards in the town itself. The buildings (in the nice – read ‘white’ – areas) are all white washed and immaculate, with green or brown trim… some even sport thatched roofs. From what I gather, this is the area where South Africa’s wealthy come to play and drink lots good wine. There are a number of beaches nearby, though none within walking distance. The closest is the Strand. In and around Cape Town there is also Clifton and Camps Bay – both with white sand, icy turquoise waters and large sharks.

The people here are generally a good looking bunch – think Aryan in the extreme. Blond hair, dark tans, blue eyes, all fit and really tall– you don’t see anyone overweight or out of shape. And the accent is obviously kryptonite (for me at least). Focusing on school might be difficult - I'm finding the men very distracting. They dress differently to back home – more relaxed and preppy. In fact, it is so casual that half the time people don’t bother wearing shoes in the city. In restaurants, in grocery stores, walking down the city street, at the Uni…apparently shoes are not a requirement here – no shoes, no worries – you will still receive service.

There is a black population as well, though their area of town is a township called Kayamandi. I believe it has around 40,000 residents, and looks exactly as they do in movies. Think tin shacks, crushing poverty, filthy. After traveling through the Middle East I have to confess that it does not shock me like it might had I just left Canada. I hate to admit that if I am walking down a street and I am the only white person, it does make me feel a little nervous. The tension that one can feel is actually accentuated in Cape Town more so than here. But nonetheless, it does exist. On my very first day, a black man tried to follow me into the house. Luckily I got our gate locked quickly. All the houses feature electric or barbed wire fencing, jail bar style gates on the doors and windows and alarm systems. Apparently the police are completely useless and corrupt so private security is a must, and many people know special men to call should they need 'help' with crime situations.

The main language is actually Afrikaans, which is a Dutch hybrid of sorts. Thankfully, because I know a fair amount of German I can often read Afrikaans. But speaking it, especially the pronunciations, will be tough. They use that guttural throat sound that Canadians struggle with. I have picked up a few phrases already and hope to have a decent command of the language within six months. In the meantime, luckily Stellenbosch University is bilingual. My old German habits are coming back quickly – I already find myself saying “ja” instead of yes thanks to the years spent in Germany growing up.

There are some other differences as well. Sleeping with mosquito nets in a must for me.  Having a ‘domestic” or as we would say ‘a maid’ is taking some getting used to. I’m scared I’m going to develop some filthy habits once I adapt to someone always cleaning up after me. The quality of things such as food – especially produce – is much lower, and for somewhere that is supposed to have so much seafood, there is no fish at the grocery store. This makes me sad. Also bank fees, cell phones and internet are WAY more expensive than in Canada. Contrary to popular belief, and to my great disappointment, the cost of living isn’t really much cheaper. I had expected it to be so much less. But then again, I think Stellenbosch is a special bubble where things cost five times as much as everywhere else in ZA.

The weather is for the most part spectacular. Sunny, blue skies and hot. Though the sun is perhaps a little too intense a times. Lots of sunscreen, sunhats and even a sun umbrella Asian-style are de rigeur. One thing that is surprising is the wind – it’s actually hard to wear sunhats because they generally get blown off your head. The wind is intense, as in it can blow a full grown person over. Apparently in winter it rains solidly for two months straight, even more so then in Vancouver. But I think I can live with that if it only lasts for a brief spell. All of the streets here feature deep gutters with streams (which make getting out of the passenger side of car doors dangerous – you can easily fall right in), so I expect the rains must be fierce.

I have made some new friends – only a few South Africans, but that is starting to change. I’ve also hooked up with some really nice Germans. I’m trying to avoid too many foreign students as the whole purpose of me being here is to experience ZA culture. There are a ton of Americans at the Uni, which is disappointing… but no Canadians to be found anywhere. I have to say, South Africans love Canadians. I'm mobbed by people when they hear me speak. I haven't had this much attention since I lived in Australia. Secretly, I kind of like it *blush*.  And contrary to the rest of my travels, no one has asked if I'm Chinese, Japanese or Jordanian. I’ve joined a few societies, including photography, the UN, dance and wine, so expect to meet more locals through those. I've also met up with a friend of my former CEO Ron, who's family owns a game reserve north of Johannesburg. I'm planning a trip up there to meet the animals and play with the baby lions. I can't wait! We went for dinner last week with some friends of his that own wineries out in Somerset West. After a fantastic dinner at one of the local vineyards we went to their house on top of the mountain. There was a full moon and the house was set on a vineyard. You could see the lights of Cape Town and Stellenbosch, and the two oceans spread out below. It was...basically...magical. Yes, I like it here very, very much.

Jordan – Amman, Petra, Madaba, Jerash and Mount Nebo

Jordan is a really historically interesting country, but I can’t actually decide if I liked it or not. While there are certain things I want to go back to do (especially sleeping in the desert under the stars [!!!] and a few days snorkeling at Aqaba) I’m not sure I’m in a big hurry to return.

Beyond a doubt, the culture shock is a little overwhelming at first. While there are nice (ish) areas in western Amman, the downtown area looks a little like a war zone. Maybe not third world, but certainly low second. Garbage everywhere, ripped up streets, filthy old shops selling food that looks like it has sat on the shelves for years (I’m sure it has)…unpleasant smells…and weird men following me everywhere muttering obscenities in Arabic. For some reason I expected Jordan to be a little more westernized then it actually is. I have also learned that when looking for accommodation in Middle Eastern cities do not book anything located in the “historic, quaint old city” as this translates to “filthy dump that smells bad, in a decrepit part of town”. I had booked a hotel rather than hostel, and was scared to even take my clothes off to go to bed. The shower only had ice cold water anyway, so all the better reason to not make skin contact with items in my room. Sick. And my private driver managed to get into a huge fight with the hotel slum lord…the police had to come break up the fracas.

One thing I was amused by is the Jordanian’s widespread posting of cheesy portraits of their King in random places. At a gas station, at the bakery, road side, taped to the rear windows of their cars…large portraits of the man crop up everywhere. And they always look like they were taken in the 1980s. This seems like something a tyranic dictator would force his people to do, although apparently he is far from that.

Forget finding an obvious restaurant or café for dining either. There are some rusty little potential food preppish type places here and there, but nothing obvious – no signs, or menus displayed. I was worried I was going to need to survive off of stale cookies from the filthy convenience store that sold everything from sheep’s heads to, well, stale cookies.

The amount of garbage littering the road sides is shocking – even in the middle of the desert. Apparently there is a strong wind that blows it around the country from the city. But I would be highly surprised if there is any organized garbage collection service. Not with this much strewn on the ground. When you see it blowing around the desert, it’s really quite sad. And then you see the street animals picking through it, scrounging for dinner morsels, which is even more sad.

Amman is actually a pretty bleak city. All of the buildings are greige, and the same height. And while the Western suburbs are considered ‘fashionable’ – they are still pretty bland and do not deviate from the standard colour. I suspect that most of the Middle Eastern wealth you hear about is not found in Jordan. Rather, it is really just a patch of desert between Israel and Iraq, desperately trying to maintain a strong tourism industry as a basis for their economy. They are lucky in that so many major historic sites are located within Jordan’s borders.  They also have their own airline now, Royal Jordanian, which I have flown a number of times on these trips. While the fact that they feed you even on short haul flights is appealing, the planes are pretty old and the pilots are atrocious at landing. At first I blamed the weather, but a pattern started to emerge where by the plane would land by just dropping incrementally from the sky, leaving my stomach somewhere up above.

I was stuck with a chain smoking Jordanian local driver for my three days – he was full of unintelligible stories about his dislike of Russian prostitutes and how ‘welcome’ I was (as long as I tipped him largely). They drive like lunatics in Jordan as well. Not that they speed, but rather they completely ignore dividing lanes on the road. On the highway, you cruise in the incoming traffic lanes half the time, both shoulders much of the time, and right down the centre the rest of the time. It’s a good thing they are never in a hurry – although they also don’t believe in breaking when entering turns. There is literally a police station every 500 metres – but they don’t seem to care about the drivers. Hitch hikers and camels, and shepherds with their goat/sheep herds dot the sides of the highway. Apparently hitch hiking is the main mode of transportation, since their buses are unreliable. If you need to get somewhere, you just wander out to the street and some random pick you up. They are very nonchalant and relaxed about this.

Touring Amman was a bit of a non event – it featured the usual obnoxious markets, garbage strewn streets, and mosques – although the King Abdulah mosque did have a pretty funky teal tile pattern going on. There was one pleasant surprise - an impressive Citadel that towers over the city with a great little archaeology museum featuring some of the real Dead Sea Scrolls, pre Greco-Roman art that dates back some 5,000 years and much more, as well as the remains of a temple to Hercules and a Roman theatre. But most importantly, next up was Petra!

The road to Petra takes you through a couple of hundred miles of seriously unforgiving desert terrain, dotted with Bedouin villages, camel herders, and…garbage (of course).  When we finally arrived, cruising through Al Wadi (the modern Petra village) I received my own private Bedouin guide whose parents were Bedouins who had lived in Petra’s remains until the government booted them out. My guide was disarmingly handsome…perfect white teeth, brooding dark eyes, nice nose…it was really funny, we both started blushing when we were introduced. So my tour involved some flirting, giggling…and if I had been overnighting there…well, I know my mom would strangle me if I told her I was in any way, shape or form spending time with a Bedouin in a head dress. Kerrisdale parents don’t understand these things. But it made my day all the better!

 

Anyway, regarding Petra: it is amazing, awe inspiring, and everyone should see it at least once in their life. No number of photos, or watching Indiana Jones movies can prepare you for just how spectacular it really is. You walk through this craggy, narrow winding red rock gorge for about a kilometre (it looks like something from Utah or Arizona), and then just when you’re about to give up, all of a sudden there’s a break in the rock and the Treasury (the most famous building) looms before you. I defy anyone to not gasp when they see it. As you enter the city, it turns out that Petra actually had a population of 35,000, and therefore is huge. Think ornately carved dwellings and temples all over the red rock hillsides. I don’t think my descriptions can even do it justice, so please look at my photos if you get the opportunity. In my opinion, Petra far outdoes the pyramids for impressive ancient ‘wow’ factor.

I also went on my first camel ride. I know it’s touristy, but why not? I can’t think of a better place to do it. Sitting on the hump puts you so high in the air – not the most comfortable. Getting off is difficult as well. But the camels are so sweet – they have the longest eyelashes!

I have only one complaint about Petra – it is infested with these seriously precocious and annoying little Bedouin child thieves. They will try to rob you at any chance they get, so watch your money and camera very closely. And they’re mean little bastards. They look at you with such anger in their eyes. Beware!

The drive back to Amman was nice – through the desert as sunset. The desert really does have spectacular sunsets, followed by pitch blackness through which the stars which seem to shine all the brighter because you are far from city lights.

Other activities in Jordan included a trek to Mount Nebo – the mountain from which Moses surveyed the holy land in the bible before dying. His body is buried somewhere on the mountain, and they have erected a little church over the spot where they suspect it lies. It’s so lovely, covered in olive trees and pure sunshine…it has a mystical feel to it. And the view is unreal from the top…as you stand where Moses stood to make his survey. There’s just a very peaceful energy about the place. I also went to the old city of Madaba which is famous for ancient Roman mosaics, including one that depicts the entire holy land made a could of thousand years ago. Cute town, and while mosaics don’t blow my mind, they were interesting to see.

Last up was a trip to the old Roman city of Jerash. Along with Ephesus, it is the largest and best preserved Roman city ruins. It’s pretty spectacular to walk the colonnaded ancient Roman streets, see where their market place was, their shops, the city gates, the public baths, the temples…it goes on for miles. My guide and I crawled around in the field and picked broken fragments of ancient Roman pottery off the ground – he gave me some to keep for good luck. I’m not sure that’s entirely legal, but I’m stoked to have them none the less. He said that after it rains, you can often find ancient coins in the field. I had no such luck L

At Jerash, there was a young Muslim family with two children shadowing us during the tour, and he pointed out to me how the parents held their children. When the woman carries a child, she holds its head to her heart as this increases the bonding experience. But when the father carries a child, he holds them away from his heart, as the children are not supposed to develop such closeness to their dad. I found this interesting. Perhaps this is none of my business, but I think that more discipline should be used towards children over here. The boys are allowed to run wild – badly behaved, rude, spoiled…total hellions. I don’t mean to generalize, but over and over I have seen it, as have other travelers I have met. A good spanking is needed by many.

I'm not sure what my ultimate opinion on the Jordanian people is either. To be honest, I don't think they are the most trustworthy. I wish so badly I could understand Arabic.I'm sure I would have heard some pretty ridiculous comments. They are friendly with an edge of sinister-ness, and they constantly have their hands out begging for tips - for the tiniest little thing. Considering what the Dinar is worth, this is pretty cheeky. Such blatant greed is truly sad. Nothing, not even a smile, is for free over here.

Abu Dhabi...is a major bust

Well, I’m having some really unfortunate luck today. Apparently there have been tensions brewing between the Canadian and UAE governments for some time now, culminating in massive visa restrictions for Canadians effective January 1, 2011. Which means I am not allowed to leave the Abu Dhabi airport. At all. Damn I wish I had brought my Australian passport along too. Apparently I have Air Canada to thank for this…the root cause of the escalating issue is apparently a desire by Emirates and Etihad to fly into major Canadian cities, but Air Canada is unhappy about the competition this prospect would pose. Aka, AC likes their monopoly and hopes to continue ripping off Canadians to whatever extent they can. As a traveler, I find them pretty nauseating, and avoid Air Canada whenever possible. However Etihad is also underwhelming me. When I checked in this morning they dinged me $300 extra for my luggage weight – and made me include the hand luggage weight in this fee as well. All in all they have been incredibly useless and unhelpful. I won’t be flying them again. So disappointing too, after hearing many stories about how luxurious they are. I’d say Emirates has nothing to worry about with these guys. So, to kill 14 hours at the airport, I will get caught up on my blog and some photos.  

Abu Dhabi is a BUST…

Egypt - Cairo, Giza, Memphis...and the Sphynx /Pyramids!

So many people I have spoken to have described Cairo as ‘the armpit of the world’ and a ‘sh#thole’, but I disagree. I think part of the reason I am not more affected by the dirtiness around me is that at this point I have been fully immersed in the Middle East for three weeks and will now probably suffer culture shock when I return to the western world instead. However, while I find the aesthetics of the city nice, I cannot say the same for the people.

Cairo is huge – its population is 23 million. And Giza, which sits right on the other side of the Nile, is 14 million. So you can imagine the crazy traffic and atmosphere that these two cities combined create. What I think is really cool, is that rather than having rich and poor neighbourhoods, instead it is all mixed together in one huge melee. So you have a beautiful modern high rise beside a burnt out shell, beside an old colonial building. There are many vestiges of the old English influence (tree lined streets, rowing clubs along the Nile), and there is so much colour everywhere you look. The buildings themselves are all covered with a thin film of dirt – everything here is – but then will have brightly painted balconies, doors, laundry hanging from the windows…it’s like a dirty rainbow. Only problem is that your lungs will also be coated with a layer of dirt after a day or so – I need some fresh air!!

The traffic here is ridiculous. Complete and utter chaos. There are no lanes, rather everyone just drives all over the road at extremely high speeds. At night few use their headlights. And as a pedestrian, to cross the street is to literally put your life in their hands – there are no crosswalks and the streets are huge, so you just run across eight lanes of traffic and hope for the best. There is a freeway that forms a ring around the city, which is 12 lanes wide, plus shoulders in which you can find horse and donkey drawn carts alongside cars going 160 km/hour. In the fray are tuktuks, rusted out mini van buses with 30 Arab passengers crammed inside (and some hanging out the door clinging to the roof), scooters with three people squeezed onto one seat, and then top of the lines Mercedes and BMWs. It is best not to look out the front window when in a car.

 

My first order of business was to see the pyramids – so I hired an awesome guide, an Egyptologist named Dalia who took me to the ancient capital of Memphis (where there is a mini sphinx and some huge statues of super-Pharoah Ramses II. We then headed to Saqqara to see the step pyramid, and some little collapsed pyramid remains nearby. It was obviously nice to see in real life, but doesn’t hold a candle to ‘the’ pyramids. Apparently there are actually 120 pyramids throughout Egypt, but the three by the Sphinx are the best preserved and known. The largest, the pyramid of Cheops, is one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. What can I say? They look exactly as you would expect them to. They are massive. You are allowed to climb partway up too, but they feel pretty damn high once you get past the first five rows. Despite warnings about claustrophobia and the fact there is nothing left inside, I decided to buy a ticket to enter one of the pyramids. I feel like it’s something you HAVE to do when in Egypt. You enter through a long passage way cut from rock that is only 3.5-4 feet tall for 100-plus metres, and you have to hunch/crawl the entire way. It definitely isn’t for the claustrophobic or anyone with a bad back. While there are only burial chambers remaining, I still thought it was pretty cool to be inside of a pyramid and am glad I did it. I also came back to the pyramids the next night to see the laser light show, which features a recording by Omar Shariff about their history. It was really beautiful to watch the sun set over them, and then to see them lit up in the dark was totally breathtaking. I think they actually looked far more majestic by night. It probably helped that there wasn’t 5,000 people crawling around the bases. Although in my opinion Petra in Jordan is the more impressive of the two attractions, the pyramids are obviously a must see. Again, just as with many things I have seen on this trip, it is totally surreal to stand before them. Even more surreal to see that Cairo literally reaches the bases, and there is a Pizza Hut and KFC not 300 metres from where they stand. I ended up buying some tacky tourist mementos, even though I said I wouldn’t. Pure oils made from flowers here are cheap, so I opted for some jasmine scent, a tiny Nefertiti pendant, and another with my name in hyroglyphs. What can I say, I got caught up in the moment.

The sky here is really spectacular, though kind of hard to describe. It will be white and fog-like (mist-fog-pollution all rolled into one), and yet through the mist you can see the sun glowing white hot. It’s eerie, and yet, you can absolutely imagine that it looked this way over ancient Egypt 4,000 years ago.

Anyway, the next day I had another tour booked, this time of Coptic and Islamic Cairo, which included a number of beautiful old mosques – including the White Mosque, which is based on the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. I visited the old city, which looks like it was in a recent war (think roofs missing, burned out shells of buildings, and the smell of urine everywhere). There is also an old Coptic section of Cairo (Coptic refers to Egyptian Christians), so we walked through the narrow winding streets, and I visited the old museum, and the famous Hanging Church, and Church of the Virgin Mary which features a grotto down below where Jesus and Mary stayed while in Egypt. I also visited the Gayer Anderson Museum, which I loved! It is the house of an English military officer, who was an avid collector of Islamic art and curiosities. The museum houses many treasures and features elaborate wood and wrought iron, and décor themes from various Arabesque and Islamic backgrounds.

For day three I decided to go it alone which ended up being really horrible and stressful. First off, I headed to the famous Egyptian Museum, which is mind blowing if you are at all into Egyptology. Seeing the mummy of Ramses II and finally seeing Tutenkhamen’s funeral mask were both memorable, and there are just so many phenomenal things there. Sadly, they don’t let you take any pictures. Of course, with my luck, my visit was ruined when I realized that I had some creep following me, who would not leave me alone. I officially dislike Arab men.

Then I walked down to the garbage strewn Nile River for a boat cruise. Despite the filthy water, the scenery is really nice and of course it feels epic to be cruising along the famous Nile River. In Cairo the Nile is lined with modern five-plus start hotels, boat nightclubs and marinas. Our boat actually crashed right in to another boat – so it seems like they drive on water as they do on land here.

I managed to have some horrid run-ins with the local gentlemen over the last day or so. At first I was lucky, since I was sheltered by private guides but I now realize that in Cairo, that is in fact the only smart way to travel. People approach you here on the street and say the stupidest things. Two examples:

I went for an evening walk across the bridge, which I had been told was safe, but some guy came up to me and said “I’m going to kill you.” Awww, thanks. Today I was approached by another charmer who said “Welcome to Egypt, you white idiot.” Yes, they are lovely. I also had one freak in turquoise eye-liner (guy-liner?) harass me really badly, and another loser with what appeared to be pink eye offer me directions (he seemed innocuous enough out for his power walk), but then of course tried to lure me into his friend’s shop and stared screaming “BYE BYE! BYE BYE!” with a red, rage filled face at me down the street when I had the temerity to say “no thank you’. I actually had to motion for a police officer to come help me – thankfully they are absolutely everywhere here, especially since the latest bombing. Not so thankfully, they are too busy leering at you to actually assist. Quite a few women here wear the full on burqa, and I now think I understand why. If I had to put up with men like these on a regular basis, I would choose to cover my face and body as well. Apparently it really is the woman’s choice to wear them – and I don’t doubt as to why they do. It must be quite liberating for them.

I have entered into political conversations with many of the more civilized locals I have encountered (think tour guides, a lawyer, hotel people – not the street freaks), and it’s really interesting to hear their perspectives. People here tend to like Americans as people, but they hate Bush with a passion. And none of them believe that Egypt is producing any terrorists. Rather they think that outside countries such as Yemen are trying to cause trouble here with bombings, to create a rift between the Christians and the Muslims. I’m inclined to believe them – there really is no religious tension here, and people seem pretty harmonious. They seem to believe the conspiracy theories about 9/11 being an inside US government/CIA job quite strongly.

Even though it is winter here, I have managed to acquire three large mosquito bites on my face. One on my forehead, and one of each cheek. And they are itchy bastards too! I’m trying SO hard not to scratch. But they are definitely killing my photo mojo.

Jerulsalem-Bethlehem-Ramallah-Masada-Dead Sea

The past few days have been jam packed, what with activities, new friends, nightlife etc.

My day trip to Masada and the Dead Sea on Saturday was amazing. We drove out of Jerusalem into the Judean desert, through a Palestinian checkpoint guarded by Arabs in Bedouin dress with machine guns. The desert is starkly beautiful with beige sand dunes that stretch for as far as they eye can see, and giant cliffs dotted with caves. Some of these caves are actually where the Dead Sea scrolls were found. As you draw closer to the coast, it starts to resemble the Grand Canyon a little but in different shades of brown. En route, we passed a number of Bedouin tent settlements, shepherds herding their goats, and camel caravans crossing the desert. In one spot there were a few decrepit convenience stores by the side of the road…and instead of cars parked out front, there were camels lined up in the parking lots! I am often struck by just how completely different and even primitive every day life can be here.  People’s lives seem so simple! Like, where will I herd my goats today?

Masasda is straight up spectacular – there is no other word for it. It was a winter palace of King Herod and was the location of one of ancient history’s most famous sieges (the inhabitants committed mass suicide rather than submit to Roman slavery).  It is located on the top of a very narrow mountain (about 450 m in height) overlooking the desert, the Dead Sea and Jordan, and surrounded by very sheer and sharp cliffs.  The only ways to the top are via a precarious looking staircase that puts the Grouse Grind to shame (not for the feint of heart), or by cable car. My fear of heights dictated I take the cable car. Once you reach the top, you have to walk along narrow wooden walk ways (more like planks, really) to get from the cable car station into the main fortress area. I needed to be coaxed to let go of the railing that I was clinging to in terror. Luckily I met a nice American who helped distract me for long enough to guide me to the mountain top fortress area. We toured around the massive fortress remains, which included catapults, Roman baths and Roman soldier camps from well over 2000 years ago.  The views were unreal and the sky here, especially over the desert emits a light like I have never seen before. Imagine dark clouds that form visible shadows over the desert landscape, but with breaks where they split open and one bright beam of sunlight shows through. It actually looks almost mystical. I can see how people viewed it as the holy land.

Next up was the Dead Sea, which was fun. Even though we picked one of the ten rainy days the area sees all year for our trip, the water by En Gedi was still really warm –it’s actually like getting into a bathtub, except lined with really sharp rocks. Once you’re in, it’s impossible to submerge your body for more than a few seconds. Every time you try, you float right back to the surface again. Any objects you may have with you float on the surface as well. A thin, foamy layer of salt coats the top of the water, and surprisingly, some waves. It almost feels like you’re flying, but you have little control as to what direction your body starts floating in…it’s pretty fun, and I didn’t want to get out. Unfortunately, I did the two things that everyone warned me not to do – though not intentionally. First, I got some water in my mouth. It tastes vile! Not just insanely salty, but almost toxic. Second, I got water in my eyes - AGONY! I was literally temporarily blind. Otherwise, it was awesome and the setting was spectacular, surrounded by the giant desert cliffs, Jordan on one side, Israel on the other. Once you get out, you are desperate for a shower – think salt coated dread locks and a thick, crusty film of salt on your skin.

Another day, I met a fellow traveler from New Zealand and we headed off to Bethlehem together, with the help of a local guide. It turned into a far more interesting trip than expected. We visited a Palestinian refugee settlement (the living conditions were really disturbing) and went to a local refugee centre of sorts for Arabic coffee and to discuss their plight. Israel has built a huge concrete wall lined with sensors and barbed wire reminiscent of the Berlin wall along the border (which seems quite arbitrary), and the Palestinians have decorated it with freedom themed murals featuring portraits of martyrs and children that have died in the struggle. Banksy, the famous graffiti artist has actually visited the area and done a number of paintings along the wall.

We next visited the centre of Bethlehem, and went for a wander through the streets. Many of the stores were closed since they only sell Christmas merchandise – though Armenian Orthodox Christmas is coming soon. I bought some really nice embroidered pouches that the local refugee women make to raise money as souvenirs. The other main thing they sell there, besides horrifyingly tacky Christmas kitsch, is carvings made from olive tree wood. Apparently this is what the town is known for.

Next up was the Church of the Nativity, which was obviously a big deal. I found it totally surreal actually. It’s really, really hard to wrap your mind around the fact that you are in the manger where Jesus was born. I’m not religious per se, but couldn’t help but feel awe. The church is beautiful inside – partially decorated in the glitzy manner of

Greek/Armenian Orthodox, partly simple. It has been destroyed and rebuilt at least once through history, but the grotto, which is the downstairs area where the manger was located, has survived. Hadrian marked the exact spot with a star, so the location of His birth has survived through history. My only complaint is the number of tourists and the way people consistently behave in spots like this. Even though it was a slow day by usual standards, there was plenty of budging, shoving and hogging going on. Also worth noting, the courtyard and statues by the church was riddled with bullet holes (as are many places in Jerusalem), mostly from a siege by gunmen back in the 1990s. After the church we visited the Milk Cave where legend has it Mary spilled two drops of milk while feeding Jesus…it is now regularly visited by the pious looking for help with conception and fertility.

Other stops included full tours of Jerusalem’s Old City, which as I wrote previously is actually a nightmarish blend of aggressive Arab vendors and cheap junk, and incredibly fascinating religious sites (called ‘stations’). The Church of the Holy Sepulchre features one of two potential tombs of Christ, as well as “The Cross”. We waited nearly an hour to crawl into the tomb for a 30 second visit, but it was amazing to see and worth it! We actually saw a ritual of some sort carried out in the tomb by orthodox priests and a choir of altar boys. There is also the Via Delarosa, the route where Christ is thought to have walked to his crucifixtion bearing the cross on his back, the Western (or Wailing) Wall, where you can see people of all denominations praying and stuffing notes between the cracks. The Temple Mount is considered the holiest spot for Jews, and third holiest for Muslims and includes the ornately tiled and 24 karat golden roofed Dome of the Rock, which houses Mohamed’s footprint. Only Muslims are allowed to enter the dome, which is guarded by men with machine guns. The entire Temple Mount is only even open to tourists for a few hours on certain days (it is under Muslim control), and when we overstayed our welcome by three minutes past closing, were yelled at and forcibly removed by heavily armed soldiers. We also visited the Garden Tomb, which is where the Protestants believe Christ was interred, walked along the ramparts of the Old City, visited the Mount of Olives where Mary’s tomb is located, the Church on Mount Zion where Mary ascended to heaven and where we had a horrible run in with a thieving Arab devil child who needed a good spanking, toured the old walls underneath the city (a totally claustrophobic experience), and so, so much more. The fellow travelers I befriended who were of religious background found the entire experience to be awe inspiring as did I, though from a purely historical perspective.

The Old City is a crazy maze of alleyways and narrow streets, in which even the most street savvy traveler will get totally lost – and harassed by the horrible Arab merchants who offer you directions then try to make you buy something from their stores.  I just put on my bitch face and ignored them as much as possible, though I met a few travelers who were sucked into their scams. Horrible people! There are large gates that mark the entrances – the Damascus Gate, Zion Gate, Jaffa Gate, Dung Gate etc…all from ancient times and pointing towards their respective name places.

The nightlife in Jerusalem actually isn’t bad. We went out most nights and always found fun things to do. We had one wild all-nighter (on Shabbat of all nights) at a club that featured hands down the best electro house DJ I have ever heard. We also hit up a number of pubs, drank terrible Israeli wine (tastes like apple juice gone bad) and vodka (tastes like Anise) and finally got around to smoking a sheesha. Luckily I made lots of friends on tours and at the backpackers (all guys, but that worked out well because I was harassed much less when I had men in tow), including a *very* tall and cute Brazilian named Pedro, who has invited me to come stay with him in Brazil. We wanted to try and meet up again in Israel to spend some more time together, but unfortunately he’s living on a Kibutz and can’t escape until the day after I leave for Cairo. Pooh! In general, Israel attracts a different kind of traveler – not the sleazy party animals you find elsewhere. People come here looking for religious, spiritual and political experiences. It’s a place to have fun but to also have interesting conversations and meet people with some depth – which I very much liked.

The food is fantastic, and I am definitely not fitting well into many of my pants after eight days here. Everything is so rich. Pastries are everywhere, as are falafels, shwarmas and the BEST waffles I have ever eaten in my life.

The tension runs high in Jerusalem – it is the opposite of Tel Aviv’s carefree energy. I’d say Hasidic Jews make up a solid 50% or so of the population, and holy men, monks nuns and friars of all denominations are found in high concentrations all over the city. Actually, I was followed by a Hasidic for two hours the other day – and he tried to ask me out. It was totally bizarre, because they aren’t even supposed to talk to non-familial women. I think it made his year when I shook his hand, ‘touching’ him. The little guy was actually really sweet and shy, but…well…Hasidics aren’t quite my style. Actually, I saw a big altercation on Jaffa Street yesterday afternoon when some Hasidic Jews tried to knock over a statue on the street (they are opposed to all statues and street art), and proceeded to get into a big flight with an Arab shopkeeper. It got pretty nasty, but was a good illustration of how tense the city can feel. It is not a harmonious coexistence here – about the only thing people can all agree on is that they all dislike the Hasidics who are apparently tax evaders and military service dodgers. Jerusalem has a heavy energy, and is a far poorer city than Tel Aviv. I can’t say I was sad to leave.

For my final morning, Alex and I once again headed over the border into Palestine with a private guide, this time to visit Ramallah and El-Bierah– the capital. Arafat’s tomb and presidential palace are located there, as are some large and notorious refugee settlements. Construction is everywhere, and I was surprised to find many nice buildings, most of which belong to the wealthier Christian Palestinians. UN vehicles and compounds are ubiquitous, as are the World Bank and various NGOs. Israel recognizes Palestine as separate, yet keeps their military there in full force and has road check points dispersed throughout the country. They deny the Palestinians everything (even entry into Israel) and the place is covered in garbage since they aren’t even allowed to form their own garbage collection service. But the people are surprisingly resilient, and the ones we stopped to speak with were decent, good and intelligent people. There are NO tourists there at all, so we were quite an anomaly. But no one bothered us, or tried to sell us crap – except for a few impoverished children asking for coins…it was a pleasant change.

Unfortunately, leaving Israel was far from enjoyable. You need to arrive at the airport four hours prior to your flight time to complete the massive security checks. They rip apart all of your luggage – and go though everything invasively, asking the strangest questions. I was interrogated because I made the mistake of putting each of a pair of shoes in different suitcases. And they could not fathom that a female could be traveling in the Middle East by herself. And once they complete the hour-plus check of your checked suitcase, they then escort you to the ticket counter, and put you through another hour-plus inspection of your hand luggage. Exhausting!