There is at least one braai (br-eye)- barbeque- every week cuz it's summer and pools are quite common here in South Africa which is nice. But they don't understand the concept of veggie patties here.

"Why not?"
"Cuz we're South African."
As simple as that- welcome to the meat eating country of South Africa.

Last weekend, I went to a Christmas spit-braai. This naive Canadian soon learned that this means, they have the body of an entire lamb on a spit, turning around being cooked. This process begins at 9 in the morning. We arrive at 3 in the afternoon, it's still turning and half of it is gone. There is a huge wok where they are stir-frying marinated prawns. A friend's family owns a butchery and he supplied the rest of the meat. Chicken drumsticks, boervols (Afrikaans sausages), ribs, pork chops, the works.

By this time I'm feeling a bit woozy just seeing all this raw carcass parts (might be the alcohol as well. . .) My favourite food item at the party is fresh sushi that one of their friends is making on site. I made cookies for the event which throws me to the bottom of the popularity rung in the company of these avid meat eaters. I half-expect the head of the lamb to be displayed somewhere in the huge yard, maybe by the pool on a stake, reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. The conch on this scenario is in the form of any of the rampant booze in coolers, deadly shooters and the like.

People are thrown into the pool avec clothes, and they come out of the house in fresh new clothes every so often. I hide in the shadows uncertain of this cultural experience. "So are spit braais normal?" "You mean you don't have this in Canada? We don't have it all the time but it's common." (I heard about a party where they put an entire cow on the spit).The evening dragged on with people emptying their stomachs into toilets, lying in the middle of someone's bedroom passed out, taking final dunks into the pool with swimming trunks. I feel sick so I leave to sleep.

The next day after lunch, we come back. Most of the same people are still there, some had returned and there is still food on the grill- healthy signs of a weekend long braai. They eat hotdogs and drumsticks. We make Don Pedros- ice-cream milkshakes with Amarula (yummy South African Liquor that tastes like fruity Bailey's). And then we have congee for dinner.

Lot's more SA eating adventures to come in the new year but meanwhile. . .have a safe and happy festive seaon everybody!!!

Pseudo-Xmas is a reality in this part of the hemisphere. Remember how novel it was the first year we decided that it would be cool to have xmas in the summer? That's because I was craving Christmas food between the two Christmases. Funny how we had Christmas lights and presents when it was scorching outside, wasn't it?

Looks like my "dream" came true. Even when I explained this "novel" idea to my Australian friend in Beijing last year, she wasn't impressed. Let me tell about a cultural experience I had yesterday beyond any expectations I had before I left the Northern hemisphere.

My friend who works at the Swiss Embassy SMSes me about a concert taking place at the Botanical Gardens with candles where we can bring a picnic dinner. The concert starts at 7pm and I imagine classical music with formal attire and violins. I'm not a big fan- but hey- it's my first time to the gardens and it's an outdoor summer night festival!

We arrive and already, cars are jammed and parked along the road, onto the grass extending far from the entrance of the gardens. We secure a spot and walk towards the entrance when we start seeing people selling santa hats with gaudy lights that flash glued to the white part of the hat. The hats are not all red, there are blue ones too(!) We pay the R5 entrance fee and walk in. We buy a candle each. "but we have no matches." "don't worry," I assure her, "we can borrow light from neighbours."

The garden is jammed when we start hearing . . . Christmas Carols. It is very disorienting to see all these people (mostly whites) crammed together with their picnics. Some look like they brought their entire house with them, chairs, tables, red wine, all they are missing is the bed. It is a familiy affair and we feel very out of place, scared to even turn to people next to us to borrow light. Everyone has their candles lit and they are in tank tops and shorts. The children's choir is on a stage with bright multi-coloured Christmas lights. We did not expect this and start laughing when the brass plays Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. People in shorts of all things, jingle their keys to Jingle Bells. And some Christmas songs are sung in Afrikaans too!

It definitely does not feel like Christmas here. I apologise- but it seems like a joke or else everybody is celebrating Pseudo-Xmas at the same time. Either one. The malls have the decorations up already. This is too much for a sheltered winter Christmas celebrater. . .

PS. Here is a real sordid/morbid Christmas story set in an American consumerist culture.

It was AIDS days yesterday. Nelson Mandela held an AIDS concert featuring international stars to raise money and awareness including U2 and Beyoncee over the weekend. They were playing movies on TV including a local one which features male prostitutes and the American film Philadelphia.

I never really paid attention to AIDS awareness back at home. Even in China, there wasn't much publicity because the government is trying to hide this reality from the public. Apparently, there are high rates of HIV/AIDS there as well, but the statistics have been undergraound. While I was there last year, a local high school at Haidian, the district I was living, was just introducing a sex education component to the cirriculum.

Here, AIDS awareness is a full-blown campaign, from huge road signs on the high way to catchy advertisements on the radio and TV. I heard a really kitsch radio commercial using rap to try to reach the teenage segment of the population. Huge billboards and television featuring young people stress the choice of abstinence over getting laid. In some washrooms, a box of condoms are available for people to pick up and use.

Education on this issue is prevalent in schools as well. The seven year old daughter of a colleague knows about sex and AIDS. In a country where at least some statistics are known about the virus, pre-adolescents are learning the cold facts in the classroom. Apparently, there are 4.2 million HIV-positive people in South Africa (2000), the highest number in any country in the world.

People in townships know about it and close family members and friends fall victim to the virus. When I was in the Southern Drakensberg in the rural village of Matatiele, a tour guide showed me around the area. He bent down over a small leafy plant and began digging around it with a stick. It's a furry bulbous root called the African potato. He told me that sangomas (traditional healers) use it all the time. It was originally thought to be the cure for AIDS and was in huge demand. But now they have realised that it's good for immunization.

Even the tourism industry has picked up on HIV/AIDS awareness. Some souvenirs such as weaving and beading use the AIDS emblem (red ribbon) as design.

Here is an interesting article about HIV/AIDS in South Africa and the accessibility of treatment to affected people. It's a bit dated (from 2000) and although progress is happening steadily, similar situations are still occuring .

I'm waiting to cross the street.

Vertically opposite from where I'm standing, a group of local boys are waiting to cross. They are all staring at me and whispering. Then they wave with amused grins on their faces. This never happens to anyone back at home. I feel embarassed and want to laugh all at the same time because I am a novelty in this South African set. I give them half a wave and look away.

Then the light changes and we cross, too far away to ever initiate conversation or exchange cultural understanding.

PS. I'm having a bit of China deja vu. There, I was surrounded by Koeans and I felt like I was in Korea. Now, I'm surrounded by Germans and I'm in Germany instead.

Current weather in Pretoria
I want fall! It's too hot. . .

Mbeki visits Canada

Canada to help with medicine to Africa

South African Goliath

Diamond ownership

"The sun rises in the east and sets in the west all over the world," a colleague told me yesterday.

No, I'm not gullible.
Really, I'm not.

WORK 2 PLAY

I WENT TO LIMPOPO PROVINCE A COUPLE WEEKENDS AGO FOR WORK. We went to visit one of the places we recently gave the Fair Trade label to and checked out the scene (R & R with yummy food)! It's a 5.5 bus ride there past Polokwane, arriving at Louis Trichardt. And from there another short drive towards the Albasini Dam to Shiluvari Lodge.

Arriving there in the dark, we saw countless stars and I saw some of them twinkling! Twinkling little stars up above the world so high. . . but the next evening it was a bit overcast and only the Southern Cross was visible. Apparently, those in the Southern Hemisphere can't see the Big and Little Dippers. Rumours have it that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Can somebody please confirm this for me? I find it hard to believe.

The next day, I take a walk a little ways along the huge dam and I can hear grunting and breathing from the hippos underwater. There are footprints on the moist sand. I am scared because they tell me hippos are dangerous; they stay underwater during the day and appear at night. A dog that belongs to the owner of the lodge wandered out one night and the hippo bit its body, almost ripping it in half. After intense surgery, the dog is alive.

WHAT KIDS WANT

MANY ARTISTS LIVE IN THIS RURAL VENDA SPEAKING COMMUNITY. There are pottery co-operatives, textile co-operatives and other crafts sold to tourists. The great thing about co-operatives is that even though all the stores look the same and sell the same things (even same displays), you know that they will all get the fair share at the end of the day.

We were at one of the pottery stops and all the kids were hanging around and gawking at us tourists. I take out my camera for a shot of the surrounding areas and then the kids start giggling. I walk towards them not really knowing what to say. (At the previous stop I attempted to talk to a couple girls but they didn't know English).

I tell them I that I am hot and asked them how to say that in Venda and they teach me (I forget already) and I ask them their names. They laugh at my accent as I attempt Venda and then one boy blatantly says to me "Give me money so I can buy chocolate." I say no because I cannot comprehend the logistic of feeding all of Africa chocolate.

They finally point at my camera, wanting me to take their pictures. So I take it, and they want another one. And then these boys fight for me to take their pictures. A few teenager shyly come to ask me as well. I am running out of film so I tell them no. But I feel bad taking all the pictures so I ask them for their address where I can mail them back. I take out my pen. . . they are all around me.

A sea of outstretched hands, desperately reach for my sole pink pen that is almost out of ink.
"Please. I am your friend."
"I need to write my exam."
"I am your friend."
"Give me the pen."
"Please."
They incessantly try to speak over the other young voices and I am at loss for words. Their pleas are almost demanding as I stand there motionless. I was told about this happening in other African countries but I never suspected this in South Africa.

Somebody points behind me. The bakkie (truck/4x4) I came on is starting its engine. I blindly shove the pen into a child's hand and take off. The emotions are overwhelming.

"There are children who are worse off," my co-worker told me the next day. "At least these ones have food and roofs over their heads."

I tried not to imagine others who do not.

Like a vegetable-lover’s dream come true, blackened asparagus-like plants push out from rough dusty rocks on the dry South African terrain. Short stubby cacti and ones boasting fluffy pink blossoms stick out like stray hairs among other patches of rocks.

Rustling bushes ahead reveal a shy graceful impala that abruptly leaps away with five companions. Squawks from a group of guinea fowls alert others that humans are nearby and they take flight, pumping speckled white spots on black wings, red crown on shrunken blue heads.

As the narrow road turns a soft bend, a clump of brown and black body mass is nestled on dry grass. It’s half of a zebra carcass, bones protruding; gnawed skin is pulled back on broken ribs. A few meters away is a solitary thigh bone and another couple meters more lies its skull with buck teeth grinning blindly.

Upon a rock face, a large clearing is visible: hectares of grasslands with sparse trees. On the right, a small herd of kudus and two impalas dart from their hiding place extending slim hind legs as they disperse in different directions. Movement from further up turns out to be a small group of zebras and a family of giraffes, the young ones racing closing behind. A black wildebeest, looking more like a small buffalo from afar, follows several antelopes to gather under a tree in the middle of the massive land area.

They’re all staring back at us.

Hard to imagine that we are less than a kilometre from a large freeway and zooming cars. The sky is overcast, the wind actually making the usually hot spring weather chilly, and we, clad in jackets and fleece, are hiking a short trail in Groenkloof nature reserve in Pretoria. Being used to hike for free in trails from our respective countries (Canada, Germany and Switzerland), we are shocked to learn that we had to fork out R15 each to walk the trails. We now realize why. Some walking trails go through the same space the animals play and leave droppings. Being so close to wildlife is exhilarating and intimidating at the same time.

We ask a reserve worker if there are elephants and lions in the reserve after we hear an ominous unidentifiable rustle from bushes ahead of us on a trail. He confirms there were none and that it was safe to walk the trails.

Experiencing the wildlife reserves in a car is different altogether. We went out of the car to change drivers in Pilanesburg and were caught by a reserve warden who warned us never to do it again. We’ve also heard of stories where elephants open their ears up in anger and chased a car. Lookout areas where visitors can get out of the car to enter another caged enclosed area have signs cautioning people to get out of their cars at their own risk.

A Walk in the Cradle

Couple of weeks ago, we went hiking on a trail that was part of a lodge in an area called the Cradle of Humankind. The dusty red trail (free for us to use after we ask permission to trample on their property) leads up to a hill that overlooked farmland resembling prairie lands in Canada. We are also able to see impala and boks before we started our ascent.

The Cradle of Humankind, over a hundred kilometres from downtown Pretoria, is where civilization is rumoured to have begun. Arid heat radiating from the hot earth is unbearable after a couple hour car ride. Minutes later, we are enjoying cool air within damp cave walls several feet underground. The dead cave is Sterkfontein Cave where the most complete 4.1 million year old skeleton was found. This is also where Ms. Ples, another famous African skeleton was revealed under careful archaeological digging.

A book called Out of Eden: The Peopling of the World was featured on a radio show in SAfm about people who have migrated from ancestral Africa to other continents and what compelled them to do so. I haven’t read it yet, but it sounds similar to Germs, Guns and Steel.

There are 12 million ways to categorize people.

It’s important to know which category you fit into so you can use the correct toilets, sit on the correct bench, and live in the correct areas in your city. Or else you can expect to be punished by authorities.

The Apartheid museum uses grim photos, video footages and stories to illustrate how the Blacks and Whites lived during the time leading up to the new government in 1994 with Mandela’s release. With a card that tells you that you must enter the building using either the Blacks Only entrance or the Whites Only entrance, we walked back into a sad period of South African history. Miss South Africa had always been white. Townships were a way to segregate people. Whites were not allowed into Black areas, Blacks were not allowed into White areas. Blacks needed documentation to travel and even move from area to area. There were curfews for Blacks. Freedom fighters were incarcerated, tortured and hung for saying or doing anything deviant from Apartheid laws. Suicides were common in prison cells.

So what makes you coloured, Asian or Black? There are ways to find out which rung you belong to in society. Tests like sticking a pen through your hair and seeing if it falls off easily gives quantitative proof of what you are.

But even as a university graduate, I don’t understand all this. How can people treat other people in such a way during Apartheid? How did they even think of such creative ways to exclude people, take power away from people and have the right to do as they please? At the same time, there are so many models out there to follow such as the German Nazis, the Canadian’s mistreatment of the First Nations, and Australian way of mistreating the Aborigines. In each case, I realize that it must be easy to continue with the system if you are White. You have the privilege of going to the all the fancy resorts, live in the best section of town, earn a good salary and know that “the other” are inferior to you.

Observing the Social Experiment

Seeing South Africa today, not even a decade away from the time of human violation, gives me a feeling that I’m living time backwards. I’ve never known a life leaden with such discrimination. I haven’t been to many parts of the country yet but it’s interesting to observe people in my own neighbourhood. Hatfield, the student area has a disproportionate representation of Whites. Walk into Hatfield Square where there is drinking, music, dancing and drunken fun and you’d have to really work yourself into a mess to pick out Blacks, Asians or “Coloureds” sitting among the partyers. The university should be well represented and Whites make up a percentage of only 10% in South Africa.

Some Afrikaaners (of Dutch descent- also known as the Boers who came to claim SA in the late 1600s) are still very exclusive. Call an office in Pretoria and you may hear Afrikaans in the phone until you tell them that you cannot understand. For some people, Afrikaans is their first language and they are less comfortable using English.

Race relations and awareness is heightened here. People talk openly about Affirmative Action (AA) and Previously Disadvantaged Individuals (PDI). Ayanda asked me if we had PDIs in my office and I had to ask him what he meant. Pointing an index finger hard against his cheek, he said openly: “I mean- people who have Black skin.” I was shocked. Such strong and blatant language! Politically correct Canadians ought to be appalled. But are we so much different? Maybe we are just hiding under a blanket of denial that people treat others differently because of appearances.

But ignorance is still somewhat unbelievable to somebody who came from a more cosmopolitan city in an immigrant country. Just walking down the street when you’ve got an Asian face can get you remarks about China, martial arts and questions about language. More Blacks call out comments to by-passers but both Blacks and Whites have questioned me about how to say certain things in Chinese. Speaking to somebody for a long time in a Canadian accent does not give you immunity from being questioned if you are from China or Korea.

Guessing Games

How fun can the guessing game be if it’s full of stereotypes?

I walk into a restaurant with Tanya and Christiana. I’ve been talking on my mobile for a while and the waiter asks where we are from. “Guess.” Tanya says.

“I don’t know about your two, but I have an idea of where SHE’s from,” he says pointing at me knowingly.

“Oh, really? Where am I from?” This might be fun, I thought to myself, maybe he would say the US because of the North American accent

“Korea or something,” he says finally.

“Wow, you’re right.”

I’m not amused.

Driving on the left side of the road, a pillow of copper dust trailing behind, I shift slowly from second to third gear using my left hand, keeping the steady speed of 40 clicks an hour. Dangerous manouver? For a tame Canadian it may be, but not for a driver scoping out the nature parks. . .

Going on a Road Trip

Last weekend, three interns (Tanya: Ontario, Christiane: Germany) bumble their way into a web of confusing roads twisting past mismarked signs that never correspond to the ones on road maps. Highway numbers that sprout from the side of the roads lead to unachieved destinations. And as they drive around in helpless circles, the kilometres of the rented car continue to increase- they will have to pay an extra R1.56 per kilometres. After the flurry of blind navigation, they reach the Promised Land: Sun City.

City of the Rising Sun?

The name itself raises goose pimples. Is this where the mountains part when the majestic sun sets to reveal a black starlit backdrop? Negative. Sun City is the name of South Africa’s very own Las Vegas. Walking in- the dim room with flashing lights blasting from the slot machines and clanking sounds of money and gambling contraptions – and you’d think that you’ve arrived in Nevada.

This billion plus dollar resort is huge: the complex, with its own wave/splashdown Park, hotels which includes the 5 star Palace of the Lost City looks like a gigantic theme park. The guide confided that the owner got all his invested back in a year (gambling was illegal in SA for a while)! The artificial elephant carvings aspiring to look African (in- of all places – Africa!) make a potential Las Vegas attraction: “Lost in South Africa”. This conglomerate reeking of profit is situated in one of the poorest regions of the country. I couldn’t wait to leave this Indiana Jonesesque land of debauchery.

Reserved for tourists

But than again, our main point of interest is Pilanesburg Nature Reserve, just over 2 hours away from Pretoria. Waking up in a decently furnished lodge in Rustenburg at 4:15am, we start our way towards the park gates that opens at 6am. More like a Where’s Waldo adventure, we roll the car along, squinting into the distance for anything that moves, armed with binoculars and cheap cameras. The terrain of golden wheat harvest resembles a rustic prairie scene on one side of the road, while on the other side is the seedier dark brown earth with rugged bare bushes leading up to hills. The rolling mountain range is sprinkled with silhouettes of trees outlined against the early sky. The animals graze early in the morning and when the sun begins to set to beat the heat.

We are fortunate to get close glimpses of the herbivore wildlife snacking on tree leaves. Clay-like elephants pull roots and leafy vegetation; quirky giraffes chomp on leaves from the tree tops, zebras punks snort at each other. I pinch myself to make sure that I’m not living some Nature Channel fantasy! We also see wildebeests, waterbucks, impalas, and kudus. The hectares of the reserve land span across a variety of terrain including water holes, drier desert and dams. Through binoculars we see lazy hippos napping, baboons hopping around and birds of all shapes. Zebras and elephants just cross the dirt path like moose or deer do back at home!

Funny how we quickly adjust to the more ubiquitous animals. As the day wears on and the heat drains us of curiosity, we pass by elephants as if they were lampposts in a suburban neighbourhood at night. “Oh, its another zebra. You don’t want another photo of that, do you?” We drive past without another glance.

Towards the end of the day, the skies darken, rain starts to pour and the animals go into hiding. But suddenly, the sky lights up with flashes of lightening tearing the dark sky apart. It’s too bad we don’t see a lion this time but I’m hoping next time I go to a reserve I will see them and the rest of the Big 5 (Lions, buffalos, leopard, rhinos and elephants).

ps. I've been here for exactly one month now!

Getting Around

It’s night and music is pumping from student hangouts all along Burnette St. (the main strip in Hatfield). The dated pop music reminds me of high school days, not that it stops drunk head pumpers from the University. Cars are crammed tightly up to the curb: BMWs, Beetles, 4x4, an odd SmartCar and Mini Austins. My own ride?: sturdy legs bent L-shaped from being at a 9-5 desk job.

They told me that public transit is impossible in this city and I’m starting to agree. Double-decker buses run only till 6pm when it starts getting dark. Otherwise, you’ve got Kombi taxis- minivans that honk incessantly to pedestrians and other cars alike to attain passengers. You need to give the secret hand signal: a slight bend of the hand towards the direction you want to go. If you don’t know the routes, watch out!

I never knew we had it so good with the Canadian public transportation that runs till 2 in the morning. As a female, it’s not recommended that you walk alone after dark. So if you want to get around after 6(!), you’ve gotta get a list of metered taxi drivers in your little black book. If you use them a lot, you might be able to bargain for better deals.

The Rough Embassy Life

Being new arrivals, Tanya and I are trying to find a network of friends, so we’ve been hot on the trail of ex-pats in our vicinity. We’ve crashed the monthly Canadian pub night at the Embassy. The first time we visited them, we discovered that they are not very welcoming peeps. (They have an operating budget that only allows them to hold one event a month. But wait! They actually have a Canadian newspaper in their waiting area! A dog-eared Ottawa Citizen dated June 2003. . .hmmm.)

The participants that night were mostly middle-aged government workers absorbed in their “work” conversations. We tried our own hand at networking/schmoozing and managed to meet the chairman of South Africa’s branch of Daimler-Chrysler who went to Mandela’s birthday party. Other attending guests included the Clintons, Naomi Campbell and current/past Miss Africas. Fidel also made an appearance via video.

We went to the Australian Embassy’s WEEKLY pub night and bumped into a couple we met at the Canadian pub (he’s from California and she’s Swiss working at her embassy). They also showed up at the TWICE-WEEKLY pub nite at the Brit Embassy. (And no, contrary to most people’s popular belief, I did not attempt to pretend I was from Cambridge). I’ve decided that this whole Embassy Circuit is more like a Carni’s life than one of an intern. Luckily we met a group of interns who were playing “football” at the British Embassy. But they are all German (I promise I’ll try to mail one to Korea) except for one Swiss. Their internships only last for two months.

The embassies and High Commissions are all in the Hatfield area and remind me of the fancy Ambassador houses in Sandy Hills by the park in Ottawa. The American Embassy is huge and is right by the Australian and British ones.

Ironless Chef

Still kitchenless, I’m living like a backpacker who eats her dinners by can opener and unsliced bread. I’m beginning to understand the logic of the beans and bread/toast mentally that Brits have. Thank goodness for couscous and raw veggies. Hopefully, this arrangement is temporary because I’m planning to move to a place with a kitchen (and eat worse imitation Chinese food???)

My other option is to eat out. This option is fat-inducing and unkind to my wallet (although I must say it’s relatively cheaper than eating out in Vancity). Disappointingly, there is no Indian, Japanese or Greek food in Hatfield. There are a couple Chinese restaurants. I went to one and it was passable- extremely greasy. But I guess that makes it the more authentic Chinese experience (like the ones in Beijing).

Shopping for a more vegetarian alternative is difficult too. No soy ingredients at the local supermarket means no tofu. I found out recently that the Chinese restaurant I went to sell it by the block. When you go out to eat and want to choose vegetarian, the only options are either tomato & cheese or spinach & feta. And yes, initially I thought spinach and feta go wonderfully together but now I’m not sure if I’ll ever order that when I get home.

For further updates on the food chronicles South Africa, stay tuned. . .

Happy Spring!

We had the first day of spring last Friday and temperatures have already reached 29c last weekend. I’m starting to accept the fact that it’ll only get hotter as we near February. Everything here seems to work in reverse, which I first found when I attempted to take over my supervisor’s driver side of the car when she picked me up at the Johannesburg airport! But I keep forgetting to observe the toilet when I flush it here. I promise to give a full-length detailed report with annotated bibliography when I witness the phenomenon.

Security Issues

Something I noticed living here is the fear of security problems. I hear about hijacks that happen and muggings, break ins, etc. The fear manifests as bars on windows and heavy gates with barbed wires on top of fences. My office has a gate in front of its door. People in bright yellow vests parade around the streets are security guards. There are two doors in banks. The first one opens and then closes when you walk in. The second door will not open unless the first door is completely shut and you push a button to open it.

Hollies!

It was Heritage Day yesterday (Sept. 24) in South Africa, the equivalent of Canada day and I would think that in Pretoria - being the capital of the country- everybody would be running around with SA flags around their necks and war paint of the SA colours. Most locals here engage in the exciting activity of staying at home to watch all the festivities on TV! We went to attend a free concert by the Union government building and watched a local group called Mafikizolo. Other live music we’ve heard so far consisted of a badly remixed version of “Ice ice baby” at a local pub in Hatfield! I look forward to many future South African musical adventures.

Don't know much about politics. . .(or geography)

I’m having amazing conversations with locals here. Their history and socio-political situation is such an integrative aspect of their lives that they know so much about their own country than most Canadians do in Canada. Their history is rich and full of struggles, triumphs and losses. Despite the sad history, I am inspired by its many freedom fighters that fought to bring South African to its present post-apartheid state. It's not the epitome of equality now but there has been much progress along the windy road. The biographies are touching and I’m learning so much. I want to learn about the first nation’s struggle in our own country and continent. I’ve been told that the apartheid state was influenced by how Canadians treated their own indigenous peoples.

Currently I’m reading a biography of Steve Biko by Donald Woods. The movie Cry Freedom is about his life.

My friend Ayanda who lives in the same guesthouse as me is Zulu and he’s from Durban on the south east of SA. In Pretoria, there are more people who are Tswana. More Zulus live in Jo-burg and in Kwa-Zulu Natal (where Durban is). I didn’t know much about African geography but I’m starting to get a grasp of this the longer I stay here and learn about it.

During Apartheid, different Native African groups were segregated to different parts of the country. These areas were named "homelands" although many of its people had never even visited those parts before. Some of the languages are much more similar to each other than Afrikaans is to English. (Africaans was developed by the Dutch when they first colonized the country. Even though there is a blend of German, English, African and Malay in the language, it is still a predominantly White colonial language.) But, the Afrikaaners and English speakers were not displaced.

Language

I am slowly learning South African lingo. Many people speak African languages and Afrikaans around us which we try to decipher and perhaps when I come back I will be fluent in the nine official South African languages.

A lekker site to visit: http://www.wavescape.co.za/bot_bar/surfrikan/slang.html

Happy Autumn to those in the North!!!

I'm finally here!!!

Here is where the soil is red and you are a skip and a few rands from diamonds and wineries. I'm staying at a guesthouse a block from work which is another block from the Canadian Embassy. I seem to settle in capitals in random parts of the world. First Ottawa, then Beijing and now Pretoria.

My supervisor drove me from the airport and when we stop by the intersection, I see a familiar scene. Teenaged boys walk out from the side of the road towards the stopped cars. However, they are not armed with squeegees. Instead, they have newspapers in hand. They are trying to sell drivers news! How innovative! They are quite entrepreneurial. Whistling for attention, some have cell phone gadgets and other trinkets for sale as well.

After witnessing the South African squeegee kids, I had my first cultural faux pas at the supermarket yesterday. (Yes, after a total of 26 hours on a plane I was still functional to go shopping for food!) I had my rooibos tea, my ryvita crackers, cream cheese and bananas at the checkout. The woman grabs the bananas and looks at me.

"You didn't weigh them," she says accusingly.
I look back at her. "Can't you weigh them?"
"There's a person by the fruits who weighs them for you. Won't you go get them weighed and come back?"
The other people in the queue stare at me and my obvious stupidity.
"No," I say quickly. "I'll get them another time."

Today, at the guesthouse, I met a South African from the Eastern Cape over breakfast. He's a civil engineer and has just relocated here. When he stands up to leave he sticks out his hand. I shake it. He then proceeds to do a thumb squeeze. You know- the meat on your hand by your thumb. It all seemed very b-boy ghetto to me. I ask him about this and he explains that most people shake hands like that here. I was being recruited into a secret society and I didn't even know it.

Later, I meet the security guard of my office and he shakes my hand with the thumb squeeze. I was all excited: Oh yeah, I know all this already. This is easy.

I want to read more about South Africa cuz I'd hate to arrive there being the naive tourist that I am. I realize that I can't understand all the issues especially with big picture issues in the time of post apartheid. I came across the text for a 15-minute radio essay broadcast by Radio 4, BBC by Arundhati Roy; September 02, 2003 entitled When The Saints Go Marching Out . Here is an exerpt:

"And what of Mandela's South Africa? Otherwise known as the Small Miracle, the Rainbow Nation of God? South Africans say that the only miracle they know of is how quickly the rainbow has been privatised, sectioned off and auctioned to the highest bidders. Within two years of taking office in 1994, the African National Congress genuflected with hardly a caveat to the Market God. In its rush to replace Argentina as neo-liberalism's poster boy, it has instituted a massive programme of privatisation and structural adjustment. The government's promise to re-distribute agricultural land to 26 million landless people has remained in the realm of dark humour. While 60 per cent of the population remains landless, almost all agricultural land is owned by 60,000 white farmers. (Small wonder that George Bush on his recent visit to South Africa referred to Thabo Mbeki as his "point man" on the Zimbabwe issue.) Post-apartheid, the income of 40 per cent of the poorest black families has diminished by about 20 per cent. Two million have been evicted from their homes. Six hundred die of AIDS every day. Forty per cent of the population is unemployed and that number is rising sharply. The corporatisation of basic services has meant that millions have been disconnected from water and electricity.

A fortnight ago, I visited the home of Teresa Naidoo in Chatsworth, Durban. Her husband had died the previous day of AIDS. She had no money for a coffin. She and her two small children are HIV-positive. The Government disconnected her water supply because she was unable to pay her water bills and her rent arrears for her tiny council flat. The Government dismisses her troubles and those of millions like her as a "culture of non-payment".

In what ought to be an international scandal, this same government has officially asked the judge in a U.S court case to rule against forcing companies to pay reparations for the role they played during apartheid. It's reasoning is that reparations - in other words justice - will discourage foreign investment. So South Africa's poorest must pay apartheid's debts, so that those who amassed profit by exploiting black people during apartheid can profit even more from the goodwill generated by Nelson Mandela's Rainbow Nation of God. President Thabo Mbeki is still called "comrade" by his colleagues in government. In South Africa, Orwellian parody goes under the genre of Real Life. "

Life as it is

My gypsy life has taken another term as I embark on a journey afar to a land of pomegranate, lions and Dutch beef jerky. And I worry over security because to me it's the most different from life here in Canada. No gun toting citizens here and not as much crime, muggins and rape as in South Afrika.

I have decided to take as many night time walks alone in this big city before I leave the North American continent. To have my fill of being a female loitering alone in the dark. And also have as much good Chinese food as I can before I miss it for 6 whole months. And gallavanting among the mountains and oceans I will part from. Oh- that and being with family and friends.

Woe for new bold adventures. I'm excited. . .and delerious.

I'm getting ready to leave the country. Waiting to hear back from the visa office in Ottawa, get the tickets, the shots and then pack to head to South Africa!

Approximately one month before take-off. . .

Woohoo

The last out of town thing I did was at Williams Lake. . .and Cultus Lake en route. Very beautiful is our province.

swimming, eating, tree planting galore

BeautifulBritishColumbia

Almost after two months of my hiatus in Asia, I have finally gotten my act together.

Check out my Asian Photo Album here.

I've also started another non-travel blog. Any suggestions, let me know. Here is the link.

Hello, Vancity

Greetings. . . Don't know if there are still loyal readers out there who are interested in my blabbering after my trip to Asia. Perhaps reading about life in North America is not as exotic and exciting for most people. However, I did manage to steal pictures from Alley's photos taken with her wonderful digital camera so you can take a glance at Japan when I went to visit.

Tokyo and environs pictures

Courtesy of Allison Chew

Ol' Mt. Takao and me
Alley, Takao and me
Stairs up Takao
Taking the cable down from Takao
Shrine at Kamakura
Big Buddha in Kamakura
Bell at Kamakura
Another view of the bell
Being Japanese
Decisions @ Elephant Cafe
Ready to chow down @ Elephant Cafe

Enjoy!

Buh-bye, Fragrant Harbour (Hong Kong)

Heading back to the New World on a jet plane, hoping to be back again soon. I've been forewarned about drastic culture shock on my return. So many Hong Kong locals tell me that Canadian life is so boring. I guess in comparison to the bustle and hustle of a fast moving finance and business hub of Asia, Canadian is still in the outback where supermarkets like Loblaws close at 5pm on lazy Sunday afternoons even in the most dire epidemic of Havarti cheese shortage. Will I be like brave little Manjot Bains wondering if the Asia trip truly happened? Did I just lose 5 months out of my life in a blink of an eye. Please wait to find out. . .

Saying "see you later" to Asia: Good-bye to Hong Kong, the city with the Powderpuff girls acting at its spokespeople. I don't know why that is, but they have these three American characters littered in its MTR (subway) campaigns, Ocean Park campaigns and other Hong Kong related messages. I guess people look up to these fictional girl powder bonhommes who promise to save Asia's economic crisis??

A little bit of Japan by my side

I had so much fun in Nippon but I have since settled back into Hong Kong life. I did a lot including little side trips to the more natury parts of Japan (couple hours train ride from the city). We went to Yokohama (by the water, Chinatown), Kamakura (historic sights with shrines and a BIG buddha), and Hakone (great view of Mt. Fuji, hot sulfur springs and 101 transportation methods to see the city)!!! Mt. Takao in greater Tokyo was where we hiked up the mountain, had a good workout, and saw a beautiful view. What a treat to continue the Hard-core Hiking Club in Japan! In Tokyo we saw sumo, did a late night club night with Japanese reggae/celtic fusion, experienced public bathing (onsen), saw some goths and some shrines. Just like churches in Europe and temples in China, once you see one shrine, you see them all.

Tis the season to fatten up

Wouldn't you like to know what it's like to have Christmas twice a year (3, if you include Pseudo-Xmas). Being in Hong Kong the past few days was no bore at all, witnessing the festivities and packing in the pounds from fried gooey things and crispy sweets. I had so much fun eating with relatives and seeing hoards of people (some people I knew, some I didn't) who came to wish my granny happy new years. The tradition is "bai neen", where younger folks and their familys head over to elder's home to say auspicious things to them and receive "red pocket". Good thing I'm here for this holiday, I got my fair share of Hong Kong dollars too! Yay!

We did the "Fa see", flower market, which is just like another crazy PNE with stalls of vendors trying to sell you cheap household items, and Chinese New Year goodies like food and flowers. It's nothing like the ones we have in Vancouver, there are too many people squished together in a big area packed with hundred of stalls but it can take you ten minutes to move from one stall to the next! You buy your own flowers like chrysanthemums, kumquat trees, pussy willows, blossoms and these really sweet smelling flowers that open from these garlic looking things. Apparently you don't buy flowers for people as gifts because it means "fortune" and you have to make your own fortune, not give fortune away. My analogy is that you don't give Christmas trees to people as gifts. Don't know if that's quite accurate though.

I haven't spent Chinese New Years in Hong Kong in forever, and I realised that although we have a dinner the night before New Years, my family don't do much else. (except call grandparents and wish them auspicious things). I'm eating "neen go" New Years cakes, and candies andthey are so yummy. Maybe we should have a "psuedo-Chinese New Year" too! Heehee.

Oh! I saw the best fireworks! This was to welcome the New Year on the second day of Chinese New Years. It's funny how it's like the 12 Days of Christmas here except it's 15. There are certain auspicious and not auspicious things to do each day. For example tomorrow, the 7th, is "People's day", it's everybody's birthday. Anyway, I've never seen any fireworks show like this one, not even on Canada Day (Sheila Copps, setting off her personal Roman Candles) or Festival of Lights (I forgot, it's not symphony of fire anymore?). The entire sky lit up with at least 20 different colourful fireworks display at any given time in the show and the shapes and colours was amazing. We helped with the litter pick-up afterwards with somebody who knew somebody who's head of a youth organization? Talking about fireworks, I went to Macau. . .

No cows in Macau

The reason why I speak of fireworks is that firecrackers are forbidden in Hong Kong but not Macau. Taipa Island in Macau is the largest producer of firecrackers in the world, I've heard. They export to any country with a Chinese community that demand them. Macau is so laid-back and amazing since it was under Portuguese rule for over a hundred years. The architecture is decidedly European and I've got some cool pix, it looks like I'm in Portugal (not like I've been but it's fun to imagine, right?)

Always in the mood for good food

Somebody told me the most exciting thing about Macau is the food. I think she's right. The Portuguese egg tarts are the best and so is the Macanese pork cutlet buns. There was a street on Taipa Island where they shove food samples in your face so that you can taste the many candies, pastries and cookes each store have to offer. The most ubiquitous is these powdery almond cookes, nougat candies, and meat jerky. Food heaven indeed.

Being kawaii and genki

Cute and little: PART II

I had absolutely no idea how absolutely tiny Vancouver is compared to other cities until I heard that Tokyo has a population of 13 and that the station of a major city centre called Shinjuku is taken over by 2 million people in a day. This means that the entire population of Greater Vancouver would pass through one train station in the course of one day! Sugoi (v. impressed)! My perspective of Tokyo is that it would be glitz and glamour is a dizzying urban jungle with the newest of technology. But after seeing the suburbs and sitting on 7 trains on the same day, I can't say that it describes the entire city. I didn't originally make a concrete plan to visit Japan on my China trip but I'm so very glad that I did!

Iron Chef

Yes, there is indeed sushi in Japan. As good as back home? Can't really say. I would say its approximately the same minus the very unauthentic California roll. Sacriligious to say the least to have avocado of all things and imitation crab *gasp* within maki rolls. I was able to experience 100 yen sushi which means plates of sushi and other goodies move on mini conveyers belts past your table and at the end they calculate the bill by the amount of plates on your table. 100 yen a plate = $1.30Can. We had ramen noodles and soba at noodle places. The price of fruits is sky high. And I went to eat okonomiyaki, which is like a Japanese style omelette with batter and we cooked it in real authentic lard ourselves! How exciting! :)

Other rather brill moments of Japanese eating adventures include a couple of 24-hour upscale Japanese family diners with a drink bar (all you can non-alcoholicly drink). We also had fish and chips at a British bar and authentic Aussie meat pies at an Australian pub on Aussie day! Oh and did I mention that 7-11 is my new favourite store in Japan? They have box lunches with sushi, rice, tofu stuff and other yummy Japanese "fast food" you can bring along with you for picnics when you go wandering about.

Japanese characters

In the Meiji shrine area, there are goths who gather together every Sunday. I was unfortunately unable to make the meeting as I was caught up with another v. important meeting (Hard-core hiking in Tokyo). This area is the fashion district for funky trendy teenagers who may splatter themselves with bloody make-up, super high clogs with white white make-up and witch black outfits. The non-goths are not to be unrivalled, they are decked out in the trendiest, "cute" looks, very hard to describe except to say that I felt v. old and v. out of style.

The young Japanese school girls in uniform have the longest skirts, their skirts go all the way down to the crotch of their panties (or lack thereof as I've been told). Their school socks are ones that look like, when pulled up all the way, they should go up to their hips but when worn the "appropriate way", fall loosely beneath their knees. With the cold temperature and the windy conditions while I was there, I wonder how they can still have the energy to parade down the streets with their bouncy skirts. I guess that's why they have those white masks to avoid giving other people their germs. . .

How can I forget the businessmen. The salarymen who is the sushi winner of the household gets home late every night because he is held back by colleagues. . . to be drunk and merry. He is lured by the hostesses of bars on the side alleys and drinks sake till the wee hours. I've heard of the coffin shaped sleeping portals he can rent to stay the night in downtown after the last subway leaves the station before one in the morning.

Homeless in Japan

In parks around Tokyo there are tent communities where the homeless live. I've seen this example in Ueno Park, where blue tarps take over an area. It actually looks like a campsite in Canadian campgrounds you can pay $15 a night for. They must be pretty well insulated to keep the people warm in the windy nights. (It reminds me of Hong Kong when temperatures of 12c and under requires a "chill warning" on television. In such conditions, Hong Kong reports several deaths, usually old people who freeze to death.) I have heard that if you want to send a person living in a tent community snail mail, you can address it to the park (ex. Ueno) with the recipient's name on it and it will arrive there safely.

To be continued

p.s. Happy Chinese New Years on February 1st.! My Granny has been so busy with preparations lately. She tells me that for the Hong Kong people, it's like Christmas celebrations. V. exciting to be participating in this years festivities. They celebrate New Years on Jan 1 in Japan so coming back to see decorations and people rushing about with New Years goodies is delicious.

Out of China: The Revenge of the "Cute and Little"

Ada "Godzilla" Chan meets Tokyo: PART I

Okay, so I haven't been writing in this online blog of mine for a while which is a big faux pas. I should take advantage of this opportunity, according to Ron (Jan, 2003), since they have apparently banned the usage of this handy lil' web journal in China. Since my last update in Hong Kong, I have taken Tokyo and its environs by storm and have lots of stories and observations to share. I was staying with Alley in Kita-Senju in the middle of her English teaching contract with Nova. I also met up with Chris who is teaching with the JET program.

So what kind of mischief have I been up to in Japan, you may ask. Apart from getting engaged with a sumo wrestler and taking up the position of an amateur karate hostess in the heart of busy Shinjuku, not much. :) But is Japan ever different from China! It seems to me that everyting in Japan is cute and little like those cute but not enough portions they serve you at restaurants. People are so concerned about their weight, health, or both that they have the amount of calories of menu items in some restaurants. Back in China, each dish can feed a family of 6 and their neighbour's dog. The price can rival Canada's which is comparatively expensive in China.

There are three systems of writing in Japanese: Hiragana, Katakana (pronunciation of foreign words and other letters in "bold"), and Kanji (Chinese). I found that I could read most of the Kanji which is helpful at times. However, many characters cannot be translatable to Chinese and the pronunciation is completely different.

Trainspotting

The average commuter in Tokyo travels individually and falls asleep to the rhythm of the rocking train so the subways are generally very quiet. Most of them are so tired from long commutes that they do not stand up and offer seats to older people who are left standing in the crowded train. Standees throw their arms akimbo and hands twisted in a secure, branch-like position to guarantee successful upright slumber. To get to the city centres from Tokyo suburbs, people take an average of 3 trains to get there and three trains back, spending an average of $15 CAN each day. There are heaters beneath the seats to keep booties warm and toasty. The Japanese love their space and if there aren't many people, they may move 3 squat-toilets length from the person sitting closest to them.

Japanese water closet

In terms of facilities for times when nature calls, the Japanese are spotlessly immaculate. If there happens to be the squat sort, they are squeaky clean. If there are western toilets, you get a heated seat and the option of having simulated water sounds to hide the sounds of human expulsion as the Japanese can be sensitive about such issues. (On my first Japanese toilet experience, I had inferred that the water sounds was to help people with number one. . .) They are also sensitive about blowing one's nose in public.

To be continued

p.s. For those curious, I'm writing this in Hong Kong where internet is more accessible (aka free) and I have more time to digest my side trip

Can you imagine not needing to bring a packet of overpriced tissue paper with you whenever you use public toilets? It's very emancipating. No wonder the price of tissue packets here in Hong Kong is higher than that of China. Another thing I noticed here is that you can hear much more English everywhere. Obviously the ex-British colony would know English even though most locals just speak Cantonese. There are more ex-pats here and also people back from studying abroad in English-speaking countries.

Bikes and trikes in Hong Kong

Not surprisingly, I have't seen anybody use bicycles as a mode of transportation here in Hong Kong. In such a small space of a city with over 6 million people, there is definitely not enough space to sequester a bike lane let alone wide enough car lanes for the dense traffic! In addition, it's more hilly here as I can see buildings perched on top of not so distant mountains from my granny's flat.

I, however, did take time to go bike riding away from the city. Chris' cousin from Sydney is teaching English here for a couple years and he lives in the New Territories, a huge part of Kowloon that is considered to be more countryside than city center. There is a section we rode on by the water, the bike path reminding me of Stanley Park's seawall and the path along the Ottawa River all at the same time. I saw less people and the whole atmosphere was so laid back, I was in heaven. We ended up doing a "Hong Kong" barbeque, we had to start a fire in an area full of tar pits just for this purpose. (Yes, Mike. Even though it took us half an hour, we ended up starting a fire since we are all university graduates. . .) We were spearing chicken wings, sausages, fish meatballs, mushrooms. We ended up biking alongside the Plover Reservoir with green space, water and mountains all in the same area. From far away we could barely see the city highrises.

Local paper features consumer research

From the South China Morning Post (main English newspaper in Hong Kong), I read an article on consumerism. By the way, I really like this newspaper and I find that I can take hours reading news that only mentions a certain country (our 11th southern province) in a couple articles. This interesting article said that people (mostly women) between the ages of 30-50 have a shop till you drop mentality because they grew up when Hong Kong was experiencing a booming economy in the 70s. This is not a positive thing right now as Hong Kong's economy has shifted into suffering mode.

After-effects of the Handover (aka. Return to the homeland)

Although I've said that China is not as bad as I might have thought it would be in terms of governing, it can not be compared to what Hong Kong has been used to in the past. Right after being returned to China, people who have immigrated for fear of a sudden change to communist dictatorship started to return to HK because things did not seem to have changed at all. However, the economy is now starting to suffer and the governing is law is starting to turn its evil head.

China had promised that there be no changes for 50 years, but with the new bill section 23, people here are getting uneasy. This article states that citizens will be punished if they express or do anything inappropriate. What does that mean? Nobody knows, because it seems that the government refuses to go into more details, causing some Hong Kongnese to erupt in demonstrations.

Recently, at a music awards ceremony, a famous HK artist from a rock band gave a small speech before accepting his award. He was concerned that musicians and artists cannot view their sentiments after this bill is implemented, that the bill would be detrimental. However, this segment of his speech was cut off in the television broadcast. (The radio captured the entire things.) In defense, the TV station programmer states that the sole reason is that the show had to be shortened and that other performer's songs have been shortened as well. Is this already the start of censorhip? Nobody can prove it for sure.