2 Continents Down, 5 More To Go

As of 8:30 SAST (South African Standard Time - +9PST, +6EST, +1GMT if that helps) I have officially set foot on two different continents. I have arrived safely at my wonderful new home, but am thoroughly exhausted. I have showered and dumped my carry on, now I am off to the store to go buy stuff for lunch and breakfast and to get a 9V battery for my alarm clock.

After that, exhaustion will probably set in and I intend on taking a 3-4 hour nap after which I will update everyone on the rest of my trip and backdate the post about checking in my baggage in LAX.

EDIT: 22:30 SAST (10:30PM here, they use military time though)

My first day in South Africa is over. Rather than backdating my entry, I've just decided to pick up Heathrow to Jo'burg here and fill you all in on the rest of my day as well in one spot.

The flight from London to Jo'burg was also a pleasant experience. I was able to sleep a bit more, probably around 4-4.5 hours and was able to watch two movies this time. First, I watched "The Lovely Bones" - it's about a little girl who has been murdered and she is watching events in the lives of her family and friends unfold from the afterlife - it was pretty good and I'd recommend it to anyone, although it does have a slow pace so be prepared for that. After that, I slept, but I watched "The Tooth Fairy" when I woke up. It looked like the dumbest movie ever when I saw previews for it, and like Jennifer's Body, I would never pay to go see it, but it was actually very entertaining. It is one of those movies that you can watch with your kids and still enjoy it. I also tried watching "The Informant" but gave up on it about half way through - it just wasn't for me - maybe I'll try again when I'm not so exhausted.

The meals on this flight to Jo'burg were not as enjoyable as the one en route to London. For dinner I had chicken and rice (the other option was sausage and mash - like I said earlier, calling it mash doesn't make me want to eat it!) with a roll, carrots, and a raspberry and chocolate pudding (which was quite good). It was good, but it definitely tasted like airplane food. The best part was the pudding and the fact that they gave you complimentary wine with dinner. The wine was terrible - it came from a screw top bottle, but tasted like it came from a box - but the fact that it was free made it hard to refuse.

Breakfast was, as the stewardess call it, "a proper English breakfast," which sounds hard to refuse when said with a British accent. I opted to be proper instead of vegetarian, so unwrapping my morning breakfast mystery meal brought with it some trepidation - who knows what could be lurking inside? Turns out a proper English breakfast was potatoes, scrambled eggs, spinach, bacon, tea & milk, and yogurt. Again, it tasted like airplane food, but I was hungry and didn't really care.

Part of the reason for not watching more movies was I was sitting to a little Chatter Box on the flight. I'm not complaining, I had some interesting conversations with C.B., who was quite a sweetheart.

C.B. initiated the conversation with me prior to takeoff by asking me what movie I was going to watch first during our long journey. I told her that I wasn't sure because there were just so many options to choose from, but probably nothing too serious to start with. We both shared a laugh at the fact that the airline was showing "2012," an end of the world disaster movie. I'm not sure that movies about the end of the world are the best to be offering, although I suppose it's better than showing "Final Destination."

After our shared laughter, she asked me if I was going to South Africa to see the World Cup. I told her that I hoped to catch a game or two, but I was actually going for work and I told her about the Commission. She told me that she was only heading to Jo'burg to catch a connecting flight to her home in Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe. She told me that she was in London visiting her boyfriend and taking a cooking class - "to try something different."

Now, I hate flying, especially the takeoffs and landings, which I've already told you about, but my hatred/fear of this part of traveling parallels to C.B.'s. The poor thing told me that she was scared of flying and I could see by the look on her face that she was not kidding. When the plane's engines began to roar signaling the impending hurdling down the runway and launch into the atmosphere, C.B.'s face transformed from pale to bleach white. Already possessing a fair complexion, one might have thought I was sitting next to Casper during takeoff.

Sitting next to the window, slightly behind the left wing's dual jet engines, did not do anything to ease her fears. She began to clutch her saffron shawl, rolling it between her fingers and gripping it into tight balls. It crossed my mind to give her my hand to squeeze, but I feared that she might treat it like a woman attempting to have a natural birth, regretting her decision and taking her animosity out on the father's hand. Not wanting to suffer broken bones at the beginning of an eleven hour flight, I opted not to be so kind. Although not offering up my fragile hands as a sacrifice to alleviate her fears, I did my best to keep her talking throughout the takeoff.

From the pre-takeoff, engine warm-up until we reached cruising altitude around 33,000ft, our conversation consisted mostly of discussing our respective countries. I told her that I was from California, but went to school in Maryland. She didn't know where Maryland was, but telling her that it was close to Washington, DC helped place it within the United States. Like many people who have never been to California, C.B.'s image of California, especially Los Angeles, was colored by what she saw on television. Ten years ago, she probably would have asked if LA was like it appeared on 90210 (I know that the CW has resurrected the show, but for people of my generation, there can only be one 90210). Instead, the 20-year-old Zimbabwe native asked me if LA was like what she saw on "The Hills." I couldn't help but think, "Dear God! Spencer and Heidi are Los Angeles's global ambassadors!" I laughed and told her that Los Angeles wasn't anything like what she sees on TV, at least not the real LA that most people experience on a daily basis. I told her about the negatives that TV fails to show - the crime, poverty, and traffic - and also about the daily activities of most residents - the commute to work, the 9-5, and university life - things that a scripted show cannot adequately display because it isn't "sexy" and wouldn't make for "good TV." I also told her about LA's great location - the fact that you can experience the beaches in the morning and drive 3 hours to the snow, the great weather, and the variety of recreational and entertainment options available to its residents.

She asked me about President Obama and what I thought of him. Always eager to talk politics, I told her the things that I liked - he got health care reform through and he's very deliberate in what he does, and also the things that I do not like - his over-deliberative nature (say what you want about Bush, but for the most part he made a decision and things got done, although not always with the best results) which causes things to move slowly, such as the BP oil spill, the lack of environmental legislation, and the slow movement of things that he has promised to do like closing Guantanamo Bay and ending "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." C.B. had never heard of this discriminatory policy in our military. When I explained it to her, she had an almost childlike conclusion (I don't say this in a bad way, but rather her conclusion was so elementary it behooves me why "experts" fail to see the issue the same way) about the policy:

C.B.: That doesn't make sense at all. They don't let you serve in the military because you're gay/lesbian? Why does that matter? It doesn't change your ability to serve.

Me: I don't understand it either. Some believe that allowing them to serve openly might effect "troop morale."

Both of us then agreed that if we were serving and being shot at, we wouldn't care if the person next to us was gay or lesbian, but rather whether they were a good soldier.

She told me about elections in Zimbabwe. In Zimbabwe most of the people do not vote. Those that do vote have their pinky fingers dipped in pink dye that stains their finger. So in lieu of voting, many residents simply dye their finger pink. I was surprised by this, as I thought people were threatened and harassed or worse if they did vote. Apparently, it is just the opposite - people that do not vote are harassed, threatened, and beaten because they did not vote. This is largely state sanctioned violence ordered by Zimbabwe President Robert Mugabe's administration. Last year, Zimbabwe had a hotly contested election where opposition leader and current Prime Minister, Morgan Tsvangirai, was believed to have won the election. A second election was set to be held, but Mr. Tsvangirai withdrew due to his belief that the elections would not be free and fair because of widespread violence and intimidation. A power-sharing deal was brokered that kept Mugabe in power (he's been in power since 1987) as president, with Tsvangirai serving as his Prime Minister. C.B. told me that this power sharing deal was really a sham, as Mr. Tsvangirai has no real power. Mugabe and his trusted officials are still the ones running the country. She expressed doubt that Mugabe would ever step down regardless of any elections and was confident that one of his cronies would seize power once he died.

In telling C.B. about the oil spill, she told me about energy in Zimbabwe. She told me that they get their oil from nearby Nigeria and that the electrical grid there is very unreliable. Because Zimbabwe regularly experiences blackouts that last upwards of 10 hours, it is necessary to have a generator there to keep lights and/or refrigerators running.

Despite all of the problems Zimbabwe has that would soon be hers to share again, C.B. was still excited to be returning home to her family before moving to Cape Town in two months to "try something different." Between moving to Cape Town to try something new and moving to London to see her boyfriend and take a cooking class, I definitely got the feeling that C.B. was a free spirit.

I'm constantly amazed at the things people tell strangers. Case in point, about an hour into our conversation C.B. and I had the following exchange:

C.B.: You're going to be a lawyer, right?

Me: Yes, after another year of school and passing the bar exam.

C.B.: Do you know about legal issues with housing or landlords?

Me: Some, but what I know would be confined to the United States, so I don't know how much help I will be.

C.B.: OK. Well here's what happened. I was staying in my boyfriend's flat while he was off at class and I was sleeping in the bed in just a towel. When I woke up, his landlord was standing at the foot of the bed just staring at me. He told me some people were going to come see the flat so 'I'd best get dressed.' I was really creeped out. I mean, he has a key, but it he allowed to do that?

Me: Well, I don't know about how things work in the UK, but in the United States they generally have to give you advanced notice before they show your place and can't just walk in.

C.B.: That's what I thought. I mean I can't do anything about it now, but it just made me uncomfortable.

I'm sure it made her as uncomfortable as it made me hearing this story on the plane about an hour after just meeting you. I don't even know your name and you don't know mine, yet you are telling me a story about laying in a towel on your boyfriend's bed? Why would you tell a complete stranger this story? I mean, this sorted detail could easily have been left out and I could have still understood the problem. Think about times that you've done this. I've been in cabs with friends that talk about their doctor's appointments or people they've slept with, normally conversations that you would have in private, but somehow the fact that there is a thick pane of bulletproof glass separating you and your intimate conversation from the man driving you around town makes it OK to have that conversation. I can just imagine cabbies getting off work and sitting around a bar going: "I had this one guy today. He was fighting with his girlfriend about why he won't pop the question." "Oh yeah. I had this one girl who was riding with her girlfriend talking about this guy she slept with and whether or not she is going to keep the baby." It's like a game of "one-up" to play over drinks. The person with the most outrageous story gets a free drink out of it. Some things should just be kept unsaid, yet people seem to feel comfortable telling strangers things or discussing intimate topics around strangers, because they don't know them or who they are talking about. I thought it was weird to do on a plane, but perhaps it is more common than I know.

Upon landing in South Africa, I was able to quickly go through customs. The woman at the customs desk was very pleasant and helpful in guiding me to my bags, which allowed me to quickly gather my garment and duffel bags. One of the nice things about O.R. Tambo International Airport was that the carts you use to push your bags around the airport are free, unlike LAX, which charges $3 the last time I checked.

I was told to meet my driver Nikoum (I'm not really sure how to spell his name, but it sounds like Knee-coom (oom as in broom)) under the large soccer ball in the terminal. This is the first thing you see after you leave customs. Nikoum was early, so I did not have to wait to head to the B&B for very long. Nikoum took my cart and we headed to the car.

The drive to Pretoria from Jo'burg only takes about 30-40 minutes. I can't say that it shows off the beauty of the country - it doesn't in the least bit. Think about driving from LAX to downtown Los Angeles, that is the equivalent of the scenery that I saw. There was smog and plenty of it, no traffic on either side, people collecting trash on the side of the road, and the occasional hitchhiker. The drive started off silent, but I broke the ice and began talking to Nikoum about South Africa. Nicoum had lived all over the country - in Johannesburg and Cape Town before finally settling in Pretoria in 1987. He was not originally from South Africa, but I can't remember exactly where he was from - it was either Botswana, Mozambique, or Zambia - I wish I could remember.

I asked him how much the country has changed. This was a silly question on my part - I know how much it has changed since the fall of apartheid, but I meant to ask how much has it changed for the World Cup. Nikoum told me that the country had changed very much. Beginning in 1992 with the release of Nelson Mandela from Robben Island, the country changed "overnight." It especially changed in 1994 with the election of President Mandela. The current President of South Africa is Jacob Zuma, who is actually the 4th President (I thought he was the third, but Nikoum corrected me). After President Mandela came President Thabo Mbeki who resigned from office after 9 years. (Presidents are elected to 5 year terms). Kgalema Motlanthe served as the acting president for the remainder of the term and is currently the Deputy President under President Zuma. Clarifying my question, he said that the country has changed a lot for the World Cup - in terms of infrastructure and improved security and beautification of the cities.

As we approached Pretoria, Nikoum pointed out some of the sights we were passing. There was the University of South Africa, the largest distance learning university in the world with over 200,000 students. Although it was difficult for blacks to get a formal education during apartheid, Nikoum told me that, for those who were able to afford an education, the University of South Africa was the most likely place they received it. Nikoum also pointed out a location as we first entered the city where blacks used to go to get clean water - the only place in the city that they could do so. It is also where they would go to water their oxen - again, the name escapes me, Nikoum was pointing out so many things. It turns out Nikoum was actually trained to be a tour guide at one point. I was definitely glad to have him driving me to my B&B, as I was able to learn quite a bit.

That pretty much brings this post up to date. Below is a little tour of my room. I'll post more as I can.