DANGER ON THE STREETS

Last night I cycled back to my hostel at just after midnight. I greeted Joshua, our Congolese security guard and parked my bike. Joshua was seated outside on the veranda, 2 jackets on, hood up, scarf around his lower face only leaving his eyes and the top of his nose visible. We greeted each other usual way – bumping fists then returing them to our hearts – a greeting I had just recently learned, but already really love.

I grabbed a plastic chair next to Joshua and we both sat facing the gate and street. I had only made small talk with Joshua before, but last night we sat chatting for an hour. He told me about the Congo, about life in Cape Town, and about the different nationalities doing different jobs in Cape Town - the Congolese: security, Zimbabweans: taxi drivers and waiters, Mozambicans: construction, and the Nigerians: drugs.

It was fascinating listening to big Joshua, a former soldier, talk in his low, soft, French-accented voice about the crime that happens in this neighbourhood. With his baton sitting on the table within reach and pepper spray in his pocket; he mostly kept his eyes fixed on the gate and street as we talked.

We talked about the weather, and the misused wealth of the Congo and about my home town and the ocean and the mountains. As we chatted and shared stories, a staggering guest came through the gate – Chris, a rock climber and MMA fighter I had gotten to know in the bar. Chris told us he’s lost his room key somewhere and grabs some beer from his car boot to share with us. Bruno at night reception got him another key and he went to bed.

Before I’ve even finished my beer, another staggering guest came through the gate. Andy, a tall but young lad from southern England. I had also spoken to across the bar several times. Andy is very likeable – polite and unassuming, and he reminded me a lot of one of my close friend from university long ago - Owen. I greeted him and he returned my good evening, but seemed out of breath and out of sorts. In fact Andy looked like he had been crying or fighting. I asked how his night was and he replied “average”, patted my shoulder, and walked past. I called after him if he was ok and he said yeah.

Joshua and I looked at each other thinking the same thing – he’s just been robbed. So I went up the stairs and found him in the bathroom washing his arm. He was clearly very emotional, so I gave him space, but asked him to show me his arm. He was cut in five places, so I told him to come down to reception and let me clean it properly.

Bruno showed me where the first aid kit was and I dressed Andy’s arm and asked him what happened. Two guys at the bottom of the street had tried to rob him, but he had run away. They didn’t get his phone or wallet, but he had ended up with these cuts. The muggers had knives, but Andy couldn’t remember how exactly he had gotten cut, or even if it was during the attempted mugging. He’d clearly had a few beers..

I felt terrible for him as he was really shaken up. I told him not to worry too much about it, it happens all the time – which is very true from what I’ve already seen in my short time in Cape Town. I also asked if he wanted me to call the police or get him to a clinic. He said no, he just wanted to go to bed. I was worried about infection or something more sinister and told him to come speak to reception again in the morning when he was sober and feeling better.

I chatted to Franko and Joshua, neither of whom seemed the least bit surprised by any of this. Joshua did however seem angered and both reiterated the importance of taking a taxi home at night. The hostel I work at is just a ten minute walk from Long Street (the main tourist party area), so it’s tempting to walk back instead of getting a cab.

As Joshua and I chatted more, our third staggering guest returned home. Big Owen a young lad from Dublin had been sensible enough to take a taxi home, but not sensible enough to save enough money to pay for it. I lent him 30 rand and hoped he as sober enough to remember it the next day. He joined us for a bit and told me about his recent volunteering experience in a township where he was helping kids with sports. After only two weeks he was robbed twice and tied up and pepper-sprayed in his home. But that’s a whole other story for another time…

NEWS FLASH

So, big changes in my life. After only two months on the postgrad dietetics an nutrition course at UCT, I dropped out. It was just too stressful, my biochemistry and physiology background weren't strong enough to keep up, and it wasn't enjoyable. The course itself and the teachers were amazing, but I bit off more than I could chew attempting such an intensive degree after so long out of education.

So about a month ago I quit. But I didn't want to go home right away, so I'm staying in Cape Town for a while. I took a road trip along the beautiful Garden Route. Then I went to Afrikaburn festival which was absolutely fascinating. And now I work as a barman in a wonderful hostel called Ashanti Lodge. I will stay here until August when I will return to Ireland for my little brother's wedding. I have no idea what the new few months will hold, but I'll try making updates here about my experiences.

SURVIVED A MONTH

I feel like since I arrived in Cape Town a month ago, I've done nothing but complain to my family and friends. Actually, that's not a feeling, that is exactly what I've done. I've been complaining about the workload, the stress, the physiology, the biochemistry, the pace of the class, the difficulty to adapt, and pretty much anything else you can think of.

But now that our first test is out of the way with (Monday) and first portfolio handed in (Tuesday), I feel I can relax and breathe a little. I've still lots of complaints about my bicycle problems and about not feeling very safe here and about how difficult it is to get around, BUT I definitely feel more positive about the course.
The first three weeks we primarily studied Normal Nutrition, which was a lot of science, but now we are doing more varied stuff. This morning some of us visited the Red Cross Children's Hospital. We wore our UCT Student Dietitian badges and felt very important. We learned how to weigh, measure and record sick babies. Then back on campus we had a guest lecturer show us how to do the measurements on adults and we practiced on each other.
Earlier this week we did microbiology stuff like taking samples of door handles and our mobile phones and hands, then grew the bacteria. We also worked with a lecturer from Switzerland who had us experiment using Listeria (very dangerous!) and got to wear lab coats and gloves :)
We had other lecturers come in to teach us about the importance of bacteria in food, showing us how beer is brewed and cheese is made. It's all so well tied together with both the practical side of things and the science being taught.
And, of course, every Tuesday we go to cooking classes. We first have a lecture on something like eggs or gelatin, and we learn the science of emulsions and suspensions and gels, etc, then we go cook something like a souffle or meringue and see the science at work. I really enjoy this part, especially the baking as it's something I've never really tried.
We have also been food and activity records - basically a record of what we eat and do each day. Then we use software and calculations to work out how much of our recommended nutrients we are getting and if we are consuming to much or too little energy. It's very time consuming and the software can be frustrating, but it's fascinating to see what we would actually do with patients.
As you can tell from the above, the workload is varied. It's also hectic at times and very intense. My weekends are spent at my desk and most evenings too. Though part of that is probably attributed to my inefficient and rusty study habits, which will hopefully improve soon.
So I've survived the first month. I actually don't know if I passed my test or portfolio grading, but I'm still here and that says a lot. There were many days in the first weeks that I was very tempted to quit and leave as it all felt too much. But hopefully I'll keep on adapting and keep on learning and keep on finding it interesting. I'll try to keep on keeping on, as Bob Dylan says.

USING MY BRAIN IS FUN

Yesterday classes officially began. Our first topic was the Paeleo (paeleolithic) Diet, also known as the Caveman Diet. After an introduction, our teacher sent us to get info in the library in journals and on google. We then came back to debate and discuss the pros and cons of the diet and it's possible effects on chronic disease and the reality of changing over to this diet and maintaining it long term. Fascinating stuff!

Today we were learning about the food service industry. After an introduction to the history of FSI we were giving a list of things like urbanization, single-person households, economic recession, etc and asked, in small groups, how they affect growth in the FSI. Really interesting stuff to think about and discuss.

Then we moved from uni to a cooking college. We first had a lecture on the pros, cons and types of processed foods. Again the class was very interactive with lots of time for us to comment, ask questions and discuss. We learned information which should really be something everyone is taught like how milk is pasturised, what homogenization is, how freezing alters food, and other cool things. After that, we spent about an hour cooking, then sampled all the dishes and discussed the differences. Brilliant!

I'm so glad to learning stuff that I am really interested in. The classes are engaging and interactive, and for the most part very interesting. It's so much different to my first degree in Biology where over 100 of us would sit in a lecture hall yawning our way through a microbiology class and have no exchange with the teacher whatsoever.

So far so good :)

OVERWHELMED

I thought I would adapt quickly and easily to life in Cape Town, but that hasn't been the case. My first week here was completely overwhelming.

The reason I thought it would be an easy acclimatisation was that I'd visited here twice before. They also speak English here and I had given myself a few days to settle in before I had to start uni. Most of my previous moves - Thailand, Japan, Korea, Peru, involved going to a place that I'd never been, and that spoke a foreign language.

The difference with Cape Town is the danger. You hear SO MANY stories, and it is ranked as one of the top ten dangerous cities, so I'm trying to be street smart. But that is stressful and can be exhausting if you're thinking defensively all day every day. Also the people here are so varied. Unlike the other countries were I've lived and people all look similar, here you have the blacks, the "English", he Afrikaans, the Zulu, the coloureds, the Cape-coloureds, and so on. And each group seems to have stereotypes associated with them.

There is very obvious segregation in some of areas I've seen. Like in Wynberg were Dani stays, we walked on the main road to get some dinner. It was full of people, none white, and some who passed comment as we walked by. We were the only whites in the fast food restaurant we visited and it didn't feel too safe walking around the train station area. Wynberg is only a small area (suburb) of Cape Town, not a big place at all.

After eating we fancied a beer, but couldn't find a bar anywhere in that part of town. So we crossed a park to a street running parallel to Main Road and were instantly transported into another world of nice bars and middle-aged white people. It was very bizarre, and maybe it's bad or racist to say that I felt much safer there, but I did.

I'm sure I'll adapt and just need to find out where one should and should not go. But at the same time, I don't want to be confined to any boxes or stereotypes of where I should/can eat, visit, drink, etc. We'll see...

TOO MANY GUNS

On my first weekend here my friend German Dani drove to my place to pick me up. Being German she arrived early. I invited her in for a cup of coffee and to see my new home. As I was in the kitchen making a cupa all of a sudden the whole house burst into a scene from a World War 3 film. Sirens basted through the house from every conceivable angle and I rushed outside to see what was going on. Dani had saw the trampoline in the garden and had made a beeline for it. I hadn't warned her about the house security, nor did I realize it was on on a Saturday morning.

The house where I'm staying has quite a big garden and in the past they have been robbed  as people crossed into the property from other gardens. So now there are two lasers that run across the garden. If someone walks through them....no, they don't get chopped in half, but it does trigger the alarm and sends a message to the Armed Response Unit.

Once I realized what had happened I found the information the land lady had left me about how to switch off the system. I couldn't figure it out though and the maid who was nonchalantly ironing in the kitchen as if nothing was wrong, didn't know either. So I called the landlady who explained and I managed to shut it off.

My heart was pumping and adrenaline flowing. I checked Dani was ok and told her not to worry about it, I should've warned her. Then I went back to the house to apologise to the maid for all the noise, not that she seemed to even notice. As I walked into the kitchen, the maid lifted one hand from her ironing, pointed to the garden, shifted her eyes sideways to the garden, then went straight back to her ironing.

At first glance I thought the man standing looking at me was the gardener. But then I realized he most certainly was not. I put my hands up and said, "it's ok, I have a password". The man in the garden didn't move. He just stood there looking at me, his hand near his waist as if ready to pull out his gun. This guy was a member of an Armed Response Unit, one of many security companies that South Africans employ to protect their property. Fully donned in a flak jacket, helmet and gun, he didn't look like someone to be messed with.

Once I had explained the situation - I've just moved in, I'm an idiot, etc, he agreed not to shoot me and we had a good laugh about it. Then I introduced him to Dani, the real culprit, and we laughed a bit more. The man with the gun asked me to let him out (there's an electronic gate at the front of the house. I asked how he'd gotten in to which he replied "jumped the wall", and true enough, outside the tall gate and wall was a little ladder he'd used to get up and over. I should've asked what he does when the house has electric security fencing, which so many of my neighbours do.

Once our heart rates had lowered, Dani and I set off to find a nice beach to relax on. The Sat Nav system took us on a long, meandering drive past a massive informal settlement (ghetto). And I mean massive. I've never seen something so big in all my travels. It was a bit daunting actually.

A couple of miles after the ghetto there was a sign for a beach. Dani wanted to go there. I thought it mightn't be so safe since we were so close to so much poverty, but I bit my tongue. Since Dani and I arrived, all we had heard from people was danger this and danger that. And I'd done my fair share of trying to warn Dani of the dangers here, but she was obviously sick of hearing it and felt that everyone was being overprotective (it's her first time in Africa). And I felt like a nagging old man chomping on deaf ears, so we drove into the beach, parked and went to explore.

The setting was spectacular. A massive expanse of untouched beach, surrounded by mountains and rough waters with only half a dozen fishermen staggered out along the shore. We walked along the beach smiling at the fisherman. The first two just ignored us. Dani saw a fish on the sand and went over to check it out. "I think it's a shark", I said, but Dani, knowing better said "It's just a cat fish" and started to pet it.

The third fisherman returned my smile and I approached him to small talk. He clarrified that the fish Dani was currently petting was in fact a shark, a young Pajama Shark and harmless enough, but still... petting sharks? Come on, Dani.

Fisherman number three and I chatted for a few minutes about fish and Ireland and then he suddenly said, "You seem like a nice guy, so I'm going to warn you. You're on the most dangerous beach there is." He said, "The Africans come over the hill and smash your car and take everything." "Really", I asked him to which he said "Yeah, we're all armed". On seeing the shock on my face he pointed to the waistline of his jacket and told me they all carry guns in case the "Africans" from the township come. By the way, all the fishermen I saw were "Cape Coloured", which means they aren't black African originally, but have a different origin and culture (I believe).

So I thanked him, grabbed Dani, and made our way back to the car before we got shot, robbed or bitten by a Pajama Shark.

A fairly interesting Saturday morning and probably good lessons to learn nice and early in my time here.

NEXT CHAPTER: POST GRAD IN CAPE TOWN

The next chapter of my life has begun and I find myself in Cape Town, South Africa attending university. A year or two ago I couldn't have imagined that this is what I would be doing right now, but here I am....

I'm attending the University of Cape Town (UCT) as a post graduate student. The course I'm studying is a two-year intensive BSc (HONS) in Nutrition and Dietetics. I arrived here just over a week ago and have been though orientation and classes will officially begin on Monday.

The first year will be all classroom and kitchen learning, lots of presentations, physiology, food science and also community related studies. And in the second year it will be placements and research projects. I've heard this course is insanely intense and competitive. They only accept 16 students per year. The reason it's so competitive is because UCT has a great reputation and this is the only place you can undertake such a course in two years as opposed to four.

I have a lot of fears about being here; safety (it's a dangerous city), finances (I'm funding myself) and, mostly, workload. Four of last year's sixteen students dropped out in the first year. And I am the oldest (by almost ten years) in my class, so I'm sure I'm very rusty on studying and all that. But despite all of the above, I'm feeling positive and want to give it a good crack. The teachers all seem really lovely and supportive, and of course the course is fascinating and genuinely interesting to me. I think it will be a great field to work in where I can really help people as well as experience a varied working life and continuous learning. Wish me luck!

NEW BLOG

I have a new blog following my day to day journey in Africa. Click here to see Mark's Afrojournal.

WINERY TOUR

The Americans, the guide, me, the Japanese.

Whilst in Cape Town last week I went on a full day winery tour. After getting some extortionate quotes at the main train station (2000Rand), I signed up for the tour advertised at my hostel. It was priced at 600Rand and included visits to four wineries in three regions. It also included cheese tasting at the first winery, a great lunch in a restaurant (with wine) and olives and olive oil tasting at another winery.

I was extremely impressed with the tour and the guide, Paul, and found the day to be fun, educational and delicious. Autumn isn't the best time to visit the wineries as the vineyards are not full of fat grapes, but rather leaves which are turning brown and falling off. And on the day I went it was a little misty and rainy so we missed out on nice views of Table Mountain. But it was still very pretty and one of the wineries had a lovely fireplace and big comfy chairs so felt very cozy despite the drizzle outside the big windows.

There were only four others in my group - an American couple on a short holiday and a Japanese couple on a LONG honeymoon. The Japanese couple were eightteen months into a two-year round-the-world honeymoon trip. Pretty amazing! They were kind of quiet, probably because of the language barrier, but the Americans were fun and enjoyed joking around with our guide especially as the wine started to take effect.

We sampled about six types of wine at each winery. It was a combination of whites, roses and reds. There was also a South African champagne and a sparkling red. Paul, the guide, taught us how to look at, smell and taste the wines and taught us basic restaurant ettiquette. It was all very interesting and useful.

The first winery, Fairview, also had cheese tasting and we were encouraged to "match" cheeses and wines. So for example, if drinking a white wine, choose a light cheese like feta or brie. And with heavy reds, a strong blue cheese is suitable. The cheeses were very tasty, even the blues. And my favourite was a White Rock with cranberries, though the combination of goats camembert and sweet chili marmalade was a close second.

Lunch was great - everyone's meals looked scrumptious, but I was very happy with choice of grilled hake with an olive and feta salad. And the restaurant atmosphere and service couldn't be faulted - a cozy fireplace, choice of wines to accompany lunch and warm bread on the table. Though I think the coffee I ordered after lunch was instant coffee. I shouldn't complain though as it only cost 10Rand (70pence).

Of the wines I can't say which was my favourite. There were just too many. I'm not a fan of white wine and can hardly stomach a Chardonney, but I found several nice whites that I could enjoy on a summer afternoon. I enjoyed all the reds, but the most outstanding, perhaps because I'd never heard of or tried before, was the sparkling red. It was light and fresh, but more full-bodied than a rose. Oh, listen to me writing like a sommelier after only one tasting, haha.

All and all a great day out that I would recommend to anyone and everyone. And I have Paul's contact details so leave a message if you're interested in joining his tours (he works with several tour companies).

Camembert with chili marmalade - delicious!

Some of the wines we tried.

Lunch

Tanks for making wine.

A comfortable and cozy place to sample wines and olive oils.

Imported oak barrels.

They look tasty, but I just don't enjoy white wine

DAY-TRIP TO CAPE OF GOOD HOPE

On the bus from Windhoek to Cape Town, I met a Korean girl, Rami (nicknamed so because of her love of ramyon – Korean instant noodles). Rami had just finished eight months volunteering as a nurse in Ethiopia and was planning to travel South Africa before returning home.
My plan for Cape Town was very simple – get drunk! But Rami’s plan of training it down to Simon’s Town, renting bicycles and cycling to Cape of Good Hope – the most south-westerly point of Africa sounded fun and adventurous. And I figured it might be best to do some sightseeing before the hangovers started kicking in, so I invited myself along.
Of course after checking into my hostel, meeting a very lively Italian roommate, being “dragged” to the bar and meeting some red-eyed Moroccans, the idea of a 6am rise didn’t seem like such a good one. Luckily the twenty-two hour journey from Namibia had made me so tired that I was forced to bed early and meeting Rami on time was possible.
Koreans are great planners. I’m not sure if it’s genetic, if it’s a result of the mandatory military service, or just comes from growing up in a group-oriented culture. But most Koreans I know are punctual, well prepared and well-informed about what they are about to do. And Rami seemed to be no different. She had informed me that the train to Simon’s Town takes seventy minutes – correct! And that we should take the Metro-rail “plus” car on the train as it’s safer and more comfortable – correct! (we found out the hard way). And Rami also informed me that the cycling takes about 3 hours round trip. INCORRECT! Very incorrect indeed. I’m not complaining though; it was a great day; I’m just saying.
The train ride to Simon’s Town was lovely – very beautiful. Once we got out of Cape Town the journey was all coastline and we had chosen seats on the left side, thanks to well-informed Rami, which gave us great views in the early morning light. Heading south along the coast we passed many small beaches with people and families already swimming, sunbathing and playing at 8am.
Approaching Simon’s Town we passed lots of small, brightly coloured huts/shacks along the beach which brought big smiles to our faces.



Simon’s Town itself is very pleasant. A lovely place to stroll around with pastel coloured hotels lining the small main street and looking like they’d been taken from an English beach town a hundred years ago. I doubt there is much nightlife, though we did see a couple of youth hostels so there’s probably something going on in evenings.



Rami had read that there were bikes to be rented from one of the hostels so we walked there. No luck, so we went back to a tour agency at the train station. No luck there either. They advertised bikes and it was well past opening time, but the manager hadn’t shown up and the two members of staff waiting outside refused to phone him saying “if the manager’s late, who are we to call him asking why he’s late?” Hmm, interesting attitude, but their loss I guess. Finally we found a little biltong (South African dried beef) shop which had a couple of bikes to loan out. After getting the price down from 150Rand per bike to 100Rand (and later seeing on the disclaimer forms the price 80Rand!) we embarked on our “three hour” return trip. We set off at 09:47.
The ride was pretty nice and a little ways out of town we headed down to the beach which has a penguin colony that you can swim near. Neither Rami nor I fancied paying 45Rand for this pleasure so we saw what we could without paying admission and then continued further south.



The roads were very quiet and the drivers that did pass us were much less aggressive than those I’ve encountered in other part of southern Africa. However, the hills were something to be reckoned with. Luckily the bikes we great, our loads light and we had a nice cool ocean breeze most of the way.



Except for a brief “apple-stop” and to take a photo or two, we just persevered until reaching the gates to the national park (it’s part of the Table Top Mountain National Park) where we had to pay a whopping 90Rand (over 6 pounds) just to enter. My requests for cyclist, backpacker or an adolescent discount didn’t even get a smile from the cold-hearted attendant at the gate, so we forked out the cash and cycled the remaining 12.5km to the Cape of Good Hope. We were both already tired, but Cold-heart had told me most of the road was flat until the Cape so that consoled us. And it is a very beautiful part of the world with an abundance of black lizards and some roadside ostriches which distracted us from our burning thighs.



There are two places that people visit here – Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point. Rami decided it was best to see Cape of Good Hope first as it’s meant to be very scenic and also very famous. The distance between the two places isn’t great, but the road takes a long and backward detour so it’s a bit of work on bicycle.



Reaching the Cape of Good Hope was bittersweet. We were happy to get our photo there and climb the little view point, and we also got lots of compliments on our adventurousness/stupidity from the large tour bus groups and car drivers. However, we knew it was still another few kilometres cycle and long hike to Cape Point. So we couldn’t hang around long. We took the road back the way we came and then cut across to Cape Point, both of feeling very tired and hungry by this time.





When we finally reached Cape Point car park, the last thing we wanted to do was start a ninety-minute hike, so we opted for lunch first and decision making second.
The restaurant was great. I couldn’t fault it. Of course it wasn’t cheap, but it definitely wasn’t expensive. The location was perfect, service fantastic and food delicious and promptly served. The ostriches we’d passed en route has me salivating so I chose the ostrich burger. I’d eaten ostrich before and vaguely remember it being “ok”. This however was delicious – lean and full of flavour and served with a strong cheese and sweet chutney. The waiter also kindly replaced the chips with a salad as I was feeling guilty about yesterday’s fish and chips. The salad was also wonderful with its olives, feta cheese and plenty of tomatoes. Two thumbs up for Two Ocean’s Restaurant!





After a more-than-satisfying lunch we debated the ninety minute hike to Cape Point and decided against it. The debate went a little like this:
Rami-“blah blah blah because blah blah blah”.
Me-“No, no, no, no, no, no.”
Rami-“Ok.”
There was also an option of paying 48Rand to take the chair lift. Rami tossed a coin to see if this was a good idea and the coin said no just as our wallets said “Yeah!” So we started the long cycle back to Simon’s Town.
The ride back was not easy, but we both endured and Rami, in true Korean spirit, didn’t complain or admit her exhaustion until we made it back to Simon’s Town at 17:31, just in time to return the bikes. I had hoped to stop for tea at a little sea-facing Tibetan Tea House we had passed on the way, but it closed at 17:00, so that will have to wait for another time. It’s definitely somewhere I’d like to visit though. It’s such a strange and magical concept – a Tibetan Tea House on the outskirts of a tiny South African town, perched on a hill facing the sea where two oceans meet and penguins swim. It’s gotta be good!



We caught the 17:48 train back just in time. We jumped aboard as the doors closed only to realize that we weren’t in the Metro-rail “plus” (kind of like first class) car that we’d ridden on the way. But it was too late to change. The train car got busier and busier and although I didn’t feel in any danger, I certainly didn’t feel comfortable enough to take a well-needed nap. There was a local man shouting about god and his past sins for the whole journey as well as a young white guy chatting up a stranger about Genesis and god’s goodness in the seat next to us. And more than a few sketchy-looking characters glancing at the conspicuous Asian and white guy obviously far from home(s). But we made it back to Cape Town without incident and happily tired from a nice daytrip.
I calculate we cycled for about five and a half hours and that was at a good speed. And I would definitely recommend this route on bike because it’s so scenic, there’s very little traffic, fresh air and plenty of nice places to stop for photos or snacks. However, since the cycle time is so long, there isn’t really enough time to fit in the hike to Cape Point, which many people may want to do. So staying in Simon’s Town (which is definitely worth an overnight stay anyway) and renting bikes until the following day would be the best idea. Another suggestion is to bring snacks and we didn't pass any stores along the way.

A COUCHSURFING EXPERIENCE IN DURBAN

I’m writing this post to let people know better about couchsurfing (CS) – an organisation for travellers that helps people make friends and find free accommodation. I started using CS in Korea where I hosted foreigners in my tiny apartment. Guys and girls I had never met from places like Canada, Russia, Slovenia, China and Mexico, slept on my sofa bed, their feet right next to my head. They also joined my friends and I for dinner or parties and when I’d free time I showed them around my neighbourhood.
Except for a couple of nights in Dubai on my way home to Ireland last year, I hadn't "surfed" (been the guest rather than the host) a lot before coming to Africa. But thus far on this trip I've been surfing lots and using the CS groups/forums to find people to hang out with and get useful, up to date info on the cities I visit and activities I want to do. I can’t tell you just how great it is. I flew to Africa not knowing a single person on the whole continent, but immediately landed to a room, a new friend, a social circle and insider info on the best places to go, eat and things to do. That was Joey, my host in Johannesburg. And because of him and his hospitality I staedy much, much longer in that city than originally planned.
On CS everyone has a profile page which shows photos, info, countries travelled, friends, and most importantly for safety, references. The references are brief comments categorised as positive, negative or neutral left by other couchsurfers. These comments are visable to all members and it’s possible to contact the member who left such comments for more information. So, for example, if someone stayed with me three nights in Seoul, he would leave a reference stating that I was (or was not) a good host. I would in turn, leave him a reference saying he was a good guest; polite, interesting, fun, etc.
As I’ve hosted quite a bit and have a lot of positive references, I think that makes other people more receptive to hosting me when I send “couch requests” or ask someone to hang out.
I recently took a three-night trip to the South African beach city of Durban and CS was massively helpful.
In preparation for this short trip, which I wanted to make the most of, I firstly joined the Durban group – a kind of forum where people can organise events, ask for info or find someone to travel with. After joining the group I put up a post stating the dates I would be in Durban, what my rough plans were and that I would love to hang out with other Couchsurfers there If possible.
Then I sent individual couch requests to Durban couchsufers who had their “couch status” set as “available”. These requests are supposed to be individualised and specific to the person you’re asking for a sofa as it’s not just a free hotel service, rather a network for passionate travellers to help one another. And by the way, it’s not always a couch you get. In my experience it is usually a bed, often a room but of course it can also just be a space on the floor.
A local man called Dave accepted my request. Dave turned out to be awesome; a former cop who now has his own business distributing remote control planes, cars and helicopters. He’s older than me, but is a fun-loving and kind man living his dream. Dave picked me up at the bus station in Durban then took me back to his place to shower after the long journey. I got my own room, a little unkempt with a remote control vehicle orgy taking up one side of the room, but clean and comfortable nonetheless.
After freshing up, Dave and I chatted and got to know each other. CS chat usually revolves around travel initially, as that’s the common ground we all share. Then we headed out to sushi restaurant to celebrate Dave’s birthday with his friends. So instantly I was brought into a group of local people who I could befriend and ask about their city and their lives. Dinner, booze and conversation and then home.
The next morning Dave had to work so I went into town to meet a couple of other couchsurfers who had replied to my post. Two local girls met me for brunch at their favourite promenade restaurant. One had been to Northern Ireland so we had a lot to chat about and enjoyed a nice sunny walk along the promenade where I learned about their jobs, studies and travels.
In the afternoon I did my own thing – a shark cage dive and some exploring and then went back to Dave’s to rest for a bit. That evening another couchsurfer, Laura, who had replied to my post invited me for some home-cooked food at her place with her boyfriend and friends. She even offered to pick me up from Dave’s. I went along with a bottle of wine and had a lovely dinner on their veranda with nice music and conversation. They drove me back at the end of the night and invited me to join them surfing some morning. Wonderful!
The next day, Dave had some free time so brought me to see Little India, the marina and to eat local food at his favourite Indian restaurant. We chilled in the afternoon over a few beers and talked about our upcoming trips; his to China and Thailand and mine to other African countries. Dave also took me to meet his sister and brother in-law, an Irish expat musician. We hung out in his swimming pool with cold beers and I got some useful advice (which I'll probably forget or ignore) about the dangers of the African countries I'll go to next. And later on, as a thank-you to Dave, I bought some groceries and cooked us dinner at home.
That night Laura, the girl who had me over for dinner, texted to say tomorrow's waves would be good and offered to pick me up at 05:45 for some early morning surf before my bus back to Joburg. Of course I said yes despite the early hour.
Next morning Laura picked me up and we hit the beach. Her boyfriend lent me his extra board and another friend who joined gave me a few pointers on handling the waves. We spent an hour and a half out in the warm water as the early morning sun rose. It was a specatacular experience and I felt very privileged to be doing something so awesome with local folk. I was also envious of these guys who regularly surf BEFORE going to work. What a wonderful way to start the day. Laura told me that on some very clear days dolphins come to surf the waves with them. Wow!
After surfing, we dried off, I said goodbye and thanked the guys, and Laura dropped me back at Dave’s in time for breakfast and coffee. She even gave me a couple of CDs – music which I had complimented during dinner at her place. How thoughtful. Dave then drove me to the bus station from where I was once again on my own.
So there you have it; a three-day, insider experience with fun people doing fun things for very little money. None of these people knew me, knew of me, or knew anyone I knew and still they went out of their way to ensure I had a great time in their city. This is couchsurfing.

Brunch with couchsurfers at the beach.


Dinner and surf host; the awesome Laura.


Surfs up!


Big Dave - the host with the most.

AFRICA UPDATE (06 FEB)

Well, I’ve been in Africa just over two months. I’ve been terrible at blogging, sorry. However over the next five weeks I will endeavour to write more and I expect to have the time and energy to do so.
Since the end of November, when I arrived, I’ve been using Johannesburg (Joburg) as a base. My initial plan of spending just two nights in the infamous and dangerous city quicky changed as my couchsurfing host brought me into his social circles and invited me to cool events like pool parties as well as taking me to the city’s best restaurants and clubs. So I stayed on much longer than expected. Using Joburg as my base, I’ve taken trips to three other countries; Swailand, Lesotho and Mozambique. I plan to write about these countries in depth (well, at least as much depth as I could see in my short time visiting. I’ve also visited Kruger National Park, Durban, the Panorama Route (a scenic road north of Joburg), and a bizarre Hindu festival.
I’ve done a lot of partying since arriving on this continent, perhaps too much and perhaps at the cost of other activitivities like scuba diving, bungee jumping, etc. But I’ve loved everywhere I have been and met so many amazing people along the way. Everyday I learn something new, which is shocking because I thought I already knew everything.
Right now, I’m typing this on an Intercape bus from Joburg to Gaborone, the capital of Botswana. From tomorrow I will volunteer at a nature reserve called Mokolodi. They have an expensive, but seemingly well organised and comprehensive volunteer programme that lasts five weeks. This is ideal for me right now as it’s time for my annual 6-week detox (previously known as "Lent"). The nature reserve is 17km from the city and I’m currently the only volunteer, so evenings will be quiet, perhaps even lonely, but that’s ok; it will give me opportunity to write about the things I’ve seen and done as well as some reading time. I hope to use this time very productively following so much hedonism. I plan to run (bye bye beer belly), eat healthy (I have to cook my own meals), read a lot (finally put that Kindle to use), and perhaps consider my future plans and what I will do after Africa (???).
Thanks for your patience and stay tuned for lots of posts and photos.

OUCH! AN ARABIAN HAIRCUT

Ouch! I’ve just been for my first haircut in Africa. I went to the local barbers which turned out to be run by Jordanians. The haircut itself was fine and the hairdresser understood my English reasonably well, but, ouch!
The price of 140 Rand(£10) also included eyebrows, ears and nose. I’d never had these parts dealt with at a barber before, or anywhere else for that matter. But “what the heck”, I thought; I’m at the age where things start to go a bit crazy in those areas anyway.
After the haircut and some small talk about life in Jordan (note to readers: don’t ask Jordanians if they have a crazy night life and hot chicks in their country. They are Muslims and that question may not go down well. Oops!), my barber picked up some Q-tips, the type you clean your ears with. He soaked them in a nicely-scented, warm liquid and placed one in each of my ears. Then he did the same thing to my nostrils. It was unusual, but quite pleasant and I enjoyed the warmth and smell.
While the Q-tips were sticking out of me, the barber took something that looked like dental floss and started wrapping it around his fingers in a skilled and quick manner. Then he attacked me with the floss. He started with my cheeks; twisting and sliding and yanking. I could feel the fuzz and all the hairs too high for my morning shave being ripped out. Ouch, what a sting! He kept at it, all over my face: cheeks, forehead, above the eyebrows, between the eyebrows, and then, the most painful part: my ears. Ouch! Such sharp, stinging and continuous pain. Water was streaming from my eyes, but I was so worried that my barbers fast movements would ram one of the Q-tips into my already damaged brain, that I just sat as still as possible trying not to flinch or whimper.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the floss was put away, but the worst was yet to come. The Q-tips which were still sticking into my nose and ears of me had to come out. I thought they were just soaked in a solution that would soften things up. But actually they had been covered in HOT WAX! I had no idea or I would have definitely protested.
The first nostril Q-tip was unceremoniously and without warning yanked out. I shouted a surprised expletive and the barber apologised, but quickly proceeded to do the same thing again with the other nose hole. And then both ears. Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. And after each yank, he smilingly showed me the end of the Q-tip, smiling with pride at how much hair he had gotten out, or perhaps smiling at how much pain he had given this foolish white infidel.
Unfortunately inside my nose was extra hairy because the barber said “Sorry. More”, (though he didn’t look at all sorry) and put two fresh Q-tips up my nose. While the wax dried I regained my composure and searched the mirror for any blood on my face. I was fine, just a bit rosy and bleary-eyed. I debated with myself if I left right then, how long would it take for the Q-tips to fall out naturally. Five weeks? Six weeks? Would the humiliation of walking around like that be worth it for missing another couple of yanks? I decided not and took a deep breath.
When it was all over I asked my barber to show me how he did the dental floss thing. He explained it is an Indian technique and they just use normal sewing thread. He demonstrated on my arm by twisting a loop of thread, placing it across the arm, then pulling the loop closed so that it grabs the hair, then yanking. Ouch!
The nasal and ear waxing is an Italian technique, he informed me. God I hate the Italians. But I was glad of this new experience. I’m writing this almost an hour after and I still feel like I’ve been slapped by a granny for trying to steal a handbag. Ah well, at least my face is fuzz-free (for a few days anyway).

The image is a cool map I found on wikipedia when checking which countries make up the Arab World. These are the countries with their flags; basically north Africa and the Middle East. What a massive area!

HAIKU

A lone and wise moth
Ignored the oil lamp's alure;
Found comfort on me.

(Shewula Camp, Swaziland 05/12/12)

BIG BAD BUS

Walking around Johannesburg today I saw this mean-looking vehicle parked at a bus stop. Walking past I was very curious as to what it was. Then I saw a lady go to the counter, pay for something, then get off. I wanted to ask what the vehicle was, but felt intimated because it looked so menacing. After deliberating for a few moments, I doubled back and climbed aboard.
Through the metal bars and thick Perspex screen I asked the driver what the bus was for. He mumbled something incomprehensible. I asked him to repeat it and he mumbled, again incomprehensively, but this time in a very unfriendly tone. A black man in a dirty chef's uniform climbed aboard and asked me "Howzit?" (the local greeting). He seemed infinitely more approachable so I asked him about the bus’ purpose.
I learned that this vehicle is for people to top up their bus cards, which they use on the orange, public buses here. My new friend, the chef, wasn't sure why they used this system, but suggested it was for the safety of the bus drivers. My guess is that because these orange buses go into some very poor and dangerous areas (the townships) it's best to not have cash aboard. All the cash must be kept in these armored vehicles which are less likely to be held up. Though the chef told me these armoured buses get robbed frequently and that would explain the driver’s gruffness.
The chef and I spoke for a while. He works in the apartment complex adjacent to the bus stop. I told him that my brother is a chef, though probably not as good as him. The chef asked me if I knew Soweto. I said I did. It's the township that I visited at the start of my trip. Chef is from Soweto. He asked me about my country and the type of housing there. He didn't know where Ireland was, but I drew a map on the bus' greasy wall. He asked if everyone was rich and I told him no, but he didn’t seem to believe me.

AFRICA SO FAR

I arrived in Johannesburg almost four weeks ago. I had planned to stay only two nights, and yet, here I still am, loving it.
The couchsurfer I stayed with, Joey, was an amazing, fun and generous host. He brought me into his huge social circle and I immediately met lots of other cool people and new friends through him. And because of that, I'm still here.
My time here so far has mostly been like a holiday so far. The weather is mostly hot and dry and the apartments where I stay have a pool, so it feels like a holiday resort to me. I took a trip to Swaziland alone which was very interesting. I also traveled long the Panorama Route and to Kruger Park with a Korean friend. I'll blog about these trips later.
My time here in Jo'burg has mostly been spent partying - bars, clubs, pool parties, birthday parties, waterparks, and other awesome stuff like that. I have also visited a township and some markets, but mostly I’ve just been eating great food and socialising with locals and expats. So far so good.
Jo’burg itself is a fascinating city with a clear and large gap between the rich and poor. I’ve sampled the animosity people often speak of here and I’ve seen snipets of the poverty. I’m also experiencing the finer elements of life here – maids that visit daily, rooftop bars, cruising in fancy cars and other things that I’m highly UNaccustomed to. But I’ll write more about this notorious city later since I’m seeing and experiencing new and unusual things every day.

Big Madiba at Nelson Mandela Square.

PRE-DEPARTURE FEELINGS (AFRICA)

Tomorrow I fly to Johannesburg, South Africa, to start my own solo trip through the Dark Continent. I don't know where I'll go, what I'll do, who I'll meet or when I'll come home. But I do know that it will be an adventure.
I've been dreaming of this trip for years. And now I finally go. I've been nervous, apprehensive and downright scared over the last few weeks while reading up on some of Africa's countries. But now that the time is near, I feel excited and confident.
I'm living the dream life. I'm lucky and privileged to have this chance. I'm going to grasp it with both hands see where it takes me.
People have been asking me why Africa; why I want to go there. I can't seem to find an answer that satisfies them. I guess the most honest answer is Because I haven't been there. And because it will be a great challenge, and I want to test myself. I'm curious about the world and want to see everywhere, but especially Africa as it seems so different to everywhere else I've been. In ten years of travel, I have never set foot aywhere in Africa, not Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt. Not even a stopover on a flight to Asia. So it will really be a new, untouched world to me.
There isn't some specific thing which draws me to Africa. There are no mountains, beaches, natural wonders or festivals that I've been dreaming of. Of course there will be an abundance of natural beauty, rich cultures and interesting foods. But mostly I just want to travel in Africa, alone, and see that I can rise to the challenges that are presented to me whilst, hopefully, learning about new peoples and places. That's it.

EURO-JOURNAL DAY 62 (LONDON - HOME)

Today I returned to Ireland. I rarely fly when traveling between London and Ireland. I'm sure there are very cheap flights when you book in advance. But I rarely have a planned schedule which allows me to book far in advance. And I personally find train and ferry travel much more enjoyable, dignified and less stressing that budget airlines and busy airports. It's also handy if you have a lot of luggage as there are no restrictions like airlines have.
There is a "Rail and Sail" ticket which I usually get from Euston Station, London up to Hollyhead (a port town in Wales) and then the ferry crossing to Dublin. It costs less than £40, but is a full days travel. I don't mind the full days travel as it's nice time for thinking, reading and writing. Though more often than not, there are very interesting people sat next to me and I don't get any of those things done.
On this trip, I was especially lucky with seat-mates. On the long train journey to Wales I was next to a South African man in his sixties. I say South African, but really he fits into that hippy category "Citizen of the World". He was such a fascinating guy. He grew up in Africa, has traveled all over the world, lives in Goa, India, has a girlfriend in London, and was on his way to an Irish farm to spend the winter helping out for free board and food. Some of the stories I coaxed out of him were side-splittingly funny. When telling me about his travels in Eritrea, northeast Africa, he recalled that the local alcohol was so good that his girlfriend vomited and he wet the bed.
Initially he seemed standoffish, perhaps because I had been sitting in his seat (accidentally of course). But when he realised we share a passion for travel, he opened up, I mean, he really opened up. During the hours we spent on the tracks I heard about his travels throughout the world, about his business in Goa (selling T-shirts), about his twenty-one year old daughter dying suddenly of cervical cancer, and of his own battle with Parkinson's disease.
I had noticed a slight twitch when he boarded the train. And a couple of hours later, he was really shaking. I didn't want to ask about his condition, but was really glad when he brought it up because I was curious. Man, he made so many jokes about his Parkinson's. He told me he gets so many compliments on the dance floor from girls back in India. "But", he said, "I can't help it. It's the Parkinson's making me shake like that. They think I'm pole dancing, but I'm holding the pole so I don't fall over." Haha, what a legend. And on the laptop he had with him, he told me he had tons of unwanted files from accidentally clicking downloads all the time. I really love a person who can make jokes about themselves. And I have a lot of respect for him going to Ireland to do physical work over the cold, wet months despite his condition. He was diagnosed with the illness in 1989, but has only recently starting taking medication. Before that, he just maintained a positive attitude and tried to manage without meds. Though he did admit to having tried some alternative medicines such as blood draining.
We chatted about all sorts of other things too including Atheism which we seemed to be on the same page about. He said "my god is spelled with two Os", which I thought was brilliant, and made many other witty comments like "I'm not saying I don't believe in an invisible world".
We parted ways in Hollyhead to take different ferries as both Stena Line and Irish Ferries operate there. Boarding the boat I got talking to a Portuguese girl who was on her way to visit friends in Dublin. She was fun and interesting and we sat together on the boat and enjoyed a little packed lunch picnic, coffee and plenty of joking around. She, Mariana, coincidentally is living in Hackney, quite close to Karol. She is doing a PhD in Archaeology which sounds both fascinating and fun. I had never thought of archaeology as a fun field before speaking to her, but actually it does sound quite appealing. When a team is doing a dig they can be somewhere way out in the wild, sleeping in tents and living quite rough. That sounds adventurous as well as the bond and comradery one must experience working like that. And of course, there is discovery; one of the reasons people travel so much - to discover, to learn, to find something new. Maybe I'll start digging holes.
In Dublin Ma and Da picked me up and drove me north for some good, home-cooked food and a good nights sleep.

Making new friends right up until the end.

EURO-JOURNAL DAY 61 (LONDON)

We had a barbecue at Karol's this evening. Aussie James and Finnish Suvi, backpackers I met in Sarajevo, but who are living in London came over. It was a good chance to catch up and have a laugh about the good times we had. London is a great place to live. So many different nationalities are here and it seems easy to meet new people and have a good social life. Pity it's so expensive.

EURO-JOURNAL DAY 60 (LONDON)

Caught the tube to Vauxhall to meet Rachel for lunch. Rachel is an English girl I met in a free Korean class at a church in Seoul four years ago. I think I was the only atheist in our class at the church, but I got on really well with Rachel and a Canadian guy called Greg so we formed a study group together. Both Rachel and Greg left Korea after completing their one year contracts, but we always make an effort to meet up whenever we happen to be in the same country.
A homeless guy sat next to me on the subway. He smelled a little of booze and didn't seem to have any full teeth, just the bases of them were visible. And his nose was pretty flattened, looking like it had been broken more than once. He was a big guy, but didn't seem aggressive so when he asked about my Kindle, which I was reading from, I explained how it's different from an iPad. For the next four or five stops he talked to me about his old drinking buddy James and how he'd died when he was just 38. He got a bit teary eyed and then started to talk about life in the sixties. He said he was from Manchester originally, and I said I was from Northern Ireland. He mentioned George Best and said he was disappointed that George went back on the booze after his operation. At his stop we shook hands and said good luck. I was pretty pleased with myself for chatting to him because, to be honest, I'd usually feel uncomfortable in this type of situation and try to get out of it.
Rachel and I had some lunch in a pub - quite a fancy lunch actually, which seems to be the trend for pub grub these days. It was great to catch up and to reminisce on the past. She's working for an NGO and oversees fundraising. It sounds like a great job - challenging and creative and she even gets to go on "business trips" to Zimbabwe. Not a bad gig! When Rachel went back to work, I went to a tea house she recommended. A pretty place that the waitress described as Harry Potterish. At 5 or 6 pound for a cup of tea, it would need to be magic.
I met my younger cousin Gerard at about six. He's from the same place as me, but has been living in London for the last few years. I don't know him as well as I know my other cousins so looked forward to spending some time with him. He recently graduated and is working at a Wetherspoon pub in Kingston while looking for a graduate job. His pub serves quite a variety of European beers so it was good to continue to beer sampling tradition tradition of this trip. Gerard seems to be doing great - content, but focused - he looks to have bright future ahead of him. It's good that he's living away from home and in a big city with opportunities. I think doing that broadens people's horizons and gives them confidence to try more challenging things. I know that my time in Korea, surrounded by good people who believed in me, certainly made me feel more confident and optimistic about the future.
Karl came down too and joined us for a few pints. But, as always, a few pints turned into a session and it was another belly-full.