Category: South Africa (Page 4 of 4)

The Wizard of Loneliness

November 6, 2012 / Stephanie

The Wizard of Loneliness was the title of a book I read in middle school. I remember literally nothing about the book other than the title. I even looked it up on Amazon and read the description and still didn’t remember anything about it. It obviously made a big impression on me. Nonetheless, the title popped into my head today because I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness.

Being lonely when you’re actually alone somewhere is a heavy burden, and I’ve experienced it several times. I’ve brought it on myself, of course. Over the past eight years or so, I’ve had the habit of showing up places where I know absolutely no one – or close to absolutely no one – and staying a while. I did this in Cuba (2004), Argentina (2009), and Brazil (2005 and 2010). The times I’ve felt most acutely lonely in my life were these times, when I found myself in a foreign country with few friends and, even worse, few distractions.

I distinctly remember dreading Sundays in Brazil, both times that I lived there, because Sundays are family days, when Brazilians get together with their loved ones to eat long lunches, drink beer, and catch up. On Sundays, I’d take myself to the movies or go to the gym or sit in my apartment doing crossword puzzles, waiting for the day to be over.

When I went back to Brazil in 2010 for work, I wasn’t prepared for the riptide of loneliness that sucked me out to sea as soon as I got there. It was easier the first time I had moved by myself to Brazil, in 2005, because I had been truly alone – no boyfriend back home – and I was twenty-three. It must be said that meeting people tends to be easier when you’re single and twenty-three. But in 2010, I had left behind my then-boyfriend (now husband) and it hurt, almost physically, to know that he was still in Boston with our friends, while I was completely and utterly alone in a city of 20 million people.

It took me a long time to make good friends in Brazil, both times that I lived there. Making friends as an expat in Sao Paulo requires a Herculean effort. I forced myself to go to Meetups and Internations events and then forced myself to introduce myself to strangers, to walk up to clusters of people talking and ask if I could join. I set myself up on blind friend dates. I accepted every social invitation I received, even if it was for something I didn’t particularly want to do. Eventually, it paid off, and I made friends, some of whom I’m still close to. But man, it was hard.

Here in Johannesburg, things are different. I feel a small tug of loneliness during the day, as I begin to write, take my gym break, eat a solitary lunch, and return to my writing. Usually, by the time I wrap up my work for the day, there are several long hours before Al will return from work. Without friends to visit or talk to, those hours can drag by. But I’m not experiencing loneliness as a lodestone around my neck the way I have before. I know that, no matter what, on weekends, I have my husband to cook dinner with. I won’t ever have to go to the movies alone.

But while I relish the solitary lifestyle of the writer (I have always worked best when left alone), I also want to have the option to close my computer and go meet friends for drinks or dinner. It’s a big burden on Al to have to be my only companion in this country. Even though he is endlessly fascinating and wonderful and I love being with him, we both realize I’m going to be miserable if I spend the next eight months here without my own group of friends.

So, I’m starting the process again of reaching out, of joining Meetups, of contacting friends of friends. It’s hard. And slow. And difficult without a car and GPS. But it’ll happen. No Wizard of Loneliness in this house.

The Elusive Joburg

November 5, 2012 / Stephanie / 0 Comments

I’ve been in Joburg for over a week now and I am still trying to get a sense for the city. It’s difficult, since, as I mentioned, until we get a car, I’m effectively housebound and can only explore on foot the small radius of shops and restaurants immediately surrounding our apartment complex. And a girl can only visit the Pick ‘n Pay so many times before things get a bit stale.

But during my two weekends here, Al and I have gotten into our rental car and tried to see some of the city. The weird thing is, we’ve only actually driven into Joburg itself once or twice. The rest of the time, we’ve stayed in the suburbs (one of which, Craighall Park, we live in). The suburbs are quite spread out and the gathering places, for the most part, seem to be fancy shopping malls. Consequently, my experience of Joburg so far has largely consisted of driving from one fancy shopping mall to another. The malls are lovely, but I crave an actual city with a street life and neighborhoods and freestanding shops and restaurants. I know this must exist somewhere in Joburg but I haven’t found it yet.

On Friday night, for example, Al and I went to a shopping center called Melrose Arch for dinner. We chose a restaurant called Meatco that specializes in – wait for it – meat. After an absurdly long wait for our food (over an hour), we found ourselves drunk on red wine and starving. When our steaks finally came, we devoured them like animals.

Africa-shaped steak (unintentional)

After dinner, we walked to a pop-up bar in the same shopping center. I found the experience rather disheartening. The bar, which had the potential to be interesting and different, was filled to the brim with cookie-cutter douches in expensive clothes. Perhaps that sounds judgmental, but I’ve found that the specific breed of douche that exists in highly unequal societies (see, e.g., Brazil, South Africa) tends to be much douchier than your run-of-the-mill douche. I am a student of douches, and this is my studied conclusion.

But the drinks were good! And scientific!

Anyway, I’m looking forward to this weekend because, first, we should have our car by then (a used Toyota Yaris) and, second, we have lots of fun, interesting Joburg-y things planned. We’re planning on going to a famous farmer’s market in the city and we’re having dinner with one of Al’s mom’s friends, who works for the Canadian High Commission in Pretoria. Should be interesting to get his perspective on this place. Lots to look forward to and lots to discover.

Braai

November 4, 2012 / Stephanie / 0 Comments

On Saturday evening, Al and I hosted our first braai (barbeque). Braai is the Afrikaans word for barbeque or grill. In a traditional braai, the meat is cooked over wood, but nowadays a lot of South Africans use plain ol’ charcoal briquettes just like everybody else.

Al went to the store on Saturday and purchased a barbeque, charcoal briquettes, and a twenty-two piece braai set (we might have gone a bit overboard).

Our new baby

We spent the afternoon preparing food. Luckily, our apartment was sparkling clean since our new maid, the adorably named Precious, got the place ship-shape that morning while Al and I sat around awkwardly and wondered if we should offer to help. We North Americans aren’t good with domestic help.

View from our balcony

Our menu consisted of rump meat, boerewors (a type of South African beef sausage), and biltong, plus my famous horseradish beet dip, guacamole, and cookies-and-cream popcorn, which turned out to be a huge hit. Seriously, if you want people to like you, make them cookies-and-cream popcorn. They will be putty in your hands.

In preparing the side dishes, I had to make some adaptations based on what I found at the Pick ‘n Pay. For example, I couldn’t find jalapenos for the guacamole, so I substituted little green chilis, which pack a more powerful punch and need to be used judiciously so as not to knock over one’s guests. I also couldn’t find prepared horseradish for the beet dip, so I used something called “creamed horseradish.” Sounds a bit gross, but it did the trick.

Our guests arrived around five and we all set to eating and drinking until we were fit to pop. Or maybe that was just me. Oddly enough, only one of our guests was South African. The rest were from Germany, America (f*** yeah), Nigeria, and Botswana. Pretty sweet. Anyway, a good time was had by all (see photographic proof below) and I think we’ll be hosting many more braais in the future, despite our meat hangovers today.

Yum.

The Colony Arms

November 2, 2012 / Stephanie / 1 Comment

Al and I are the type of people who think, if we’re gonna live somewhere, we’re gonna have a neighborhood bar. We were roundly unsuccessful at finding a Neighborhood Bar in Woodley Park, where we lived for the past three years in DC. The closest thing we had to a Neighborhood Bar there was a foul little establishment called Medaterra whose only redeeming quality was the cheapness and largeness of their martinis. We went there maybe twice a year. Not exactly “Cheers” material.

But here in Joburg, it’s going to be different, by gum. Last night, in search of a good Neighborhood Bar here in Craighall Park, we traveled a block up Jan Smuts Avenue (which Al has taken to calling Jan Smut Avenue given its large number of sex shops) to legendary local bar The Colony Arms.

The Colony Arms, in all of its strip mall glory.

When Al first got to Joburg a month ago, numerous people stressed that he simply must go to the Colony Arms for a “John Deere,” which is a potent concoction of sugarcane alcohol (much like my beloved Brazilian cachaça) and – you guessed it! – cream soda.

(Side note: they LOVE them some cream soda here in ZA. Al points out that Canadians also love cream soda. Must be a Commonwealth thing? God bless the Queen and cream soda? According to the (highly essential) Wikipedia page on cream soda:

“In South Africa, Creme Soda is often referred to as the “Green Ambulance” (predominantly by students), as it is believed to alleviate the effects of hangovers. Creme Soda is also used as a mixer with cane spirit (an inexpensive alcoholic beverage distilled from fermented sugarcane). This is commonly known as a “John Deer” (cf.John Deere and its green logo), “Cane Train”, or “Green Mamba”. Cane spirit is chosen due its ability to go relatively unnoticed.

Gotta love that. All of that.)

Anyway, we popped into the Colony Arms expecting great things, given the amount it had been talked up, but it was pretty meh. Despite an advertisement promising two-for-one drinks on Foxy Ladies’ Thursday, we paid two-for-two for our beer and glass of wine. We stayed for the one drink and then trundled on home.

In doing some research today on The Colony Arms, to see if it had any storied history I should be aware of (it doesn’t), I came across this hilarious article, entitled “Where The Girls Aren’t: The Colony Arms,” which describes the feel of the establishment thusly:

The Colony Arms, or ‘The Colonic” as it’s known by to its denizens, is not high on atmosphere; it’s in a shopping mall for God’s sake. With its bland as tupperware interior, tiled floors and bare walls, the place gives you the impression it gets hosed down the morning after, not swept. The bar staff are friendly enough, and service is quick and attentive.

That pretty much sums it up. It was fine. But nothing life-changing. Not necessarily Neighborhood Bar material. Then again, on Saturdays they have karaoke, so I could be swayed. And, according to their website, they also have beer pong. Despite incorrectly conflating beer pong with Beirut, which is a DIFFERENT AND SUPERIOR GAME (just ask the entire West Coast of America), I like The Colonic’s attitude. This place could win me over yet.

Pilates – kinda

November 1, 2012 / Stephanie / 0 Comments

Another milestone achieved today: I attended my first exercise class in South Africa. For me, attending an exercise class in another country is always an exciting and nerve-wracking experience and, therefore, a rite of passage into a new culture. I’ve written before about the vastly different spinning experiences I’ve had in different countries and about gym culture in Latin America. But Africa’s a whole new ballgame, and so I wasn’t sure what to expect from the 9:30 am Pilates class at my local gym, Planet Fitness.

When I got to the classroom, I grabbed a mat and set it out near the back of the room, away from the instructor’s platform, because only hotshots sit right up front on their first day. As I waited for the instructor to show up, I checked out the fifteen or so other women in the class. Most were middle-aged, slightly pudgy, and white, but there were a few exceptions, including a girl who was a dead ringer for a brunette Taylor Swift. I may have stared at her a little too long while trying to figure out if she was, in fact, Taylor Swift in disguise. I mean, she was wearing GLASSES for Pete’s sake. Lamest disguise ever.

The instructor, whose upright carriage and floaty hand movements suggested that she was a former dancer, led the class through a series of movements that was not, in fact, Pilates, but her accent was so charming that I didn’t even mind. These South Africans and their accents, I’m telling you. I didn’t question it when she told us to do a downward facing dog and then bend our knees and hover them over the floor, because her accent was so pleasant to listen to. But yeah, that’s not Pilates.

To be fair, SOME portion of the class did involve movements that I recognized as Pilates, like rolling like a ball and leg circles. But most of it was just gentle stretching with some yoga moves thrown in. Ah, well. I’ve had MUCH weirder Pilates experiences. Ain’t no thang.

The obvious question now: I wonder what the gym’s spinning (or, as it would be pronounced here, “spunning”) classes will be like?

Just a small post…

October 31, 2012 / Stephanie / 1 Comment

… To say that things are somewhat coming together over here.

We don’t have the stuff that we shipped from DC (but it’s being delivered Friday, supposedly).

I still don’t have a desk.

Our toilet leaks.

We only have one (rental) car and one set of housekeys between the two of us.

And last night I ruined a pot of soup because a plastic ladle melted into it and made the whole thing taste like cancer.

BUT! I have a South African phone number now! Hooray! I am no longer completely disconnected from the world.

Being me, I got confused with the exchange rate when I bought some pay-as-you-go minutes and ended up buying a package of – wait for it – 18 minutes, but still – better than nothing. After expending those 18 minutes (probably sometime tomorrow?) I’ll have to go back to the Vodacom shop across the street, where I’m quickly becoming a regular, and buy more. Honestly, those Vodacom people are going to be able to set their watches to me — I have been in there almost every morning since I got here and I’m now on a first-name basis with several of them (including one gentleman with the delightful moniker of Elvis). Whatever – I have a phone!

In other good news, I have a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup in the works (to be served with a generous helping of Salticrax) and I am keeping that ladle FAR away from it.

Salticrax and other curiosities

October 30, 2012 / Stephanie / 3 Comments

Given that I don’t have a car or phone here in Joburg, I am pretty much housebound. Also, I’m married, so I guess this makes me, quite literally, a housewife. Depressing. Give me a couple weeks and I’ll be hiding bottles of vodka in the oven and snapping at the children, Betty Draper-style.

Today I, along with all of the other desperate housewives of Craighall Park, took a spin around the fancy grocery store (Woolworths) and the normal grocery store (Pick ‘n Pay) and tried to acquaint myself with South African products. Here are a couple of my favorite finds.

First:

“Kids, I made your favorite for dessert! Greengage jelly!”

I googled “Greengage,” which, despite sounding like a medieval wasting disease, is actually a plum-like fruit. Still – gross.

I also saw this, which was displayed alongside instant coffee and hot cocoa, which leads me to believe it is intended to be served hot:

Hot, green cream soda, anyone? Anyone?

My personal favorite find was this charming brand of crackers, which I HAD to buy, obviously:

If finding Salticrax hilarious is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.

Okay, off to cook dinner. Salticrax will be front and center on the table tonight. Delicious.

Cricket

October 29, 2012 / Stephanie / 1 Comment

Yesterday I was introduced to cricket, the second most popular sport in South Africa (after soccer and before rugby), and, I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised.

Being an ignorant American, my impression of cricket was that it was a gentlemanly (read: boring) “sport” in which the players wear sweater vests and take frequent breaks for tea and crumpets while the audience watches the “action” through opera glasses. Basically, I thought a cricket match would look like this:

Turns out, though, cricket is kinda fun! And the players are kinda hunky! For example: we were sitting directly behind this guy, Michael Lumb (who was playing for Sydney but happens to be from Joburg), for the first half of the game:

Yay for cricket.

We went to a “Twenty20” final match between the local team, the Highveld Lions, and the Sydney Sixers. I won’t try to reproduce the rules of cricket here but suffice it to say that I actually followed the game (at least, the basic outlines thereof) and was not completely bored. Which is more than I can say for baseball.

Perhaps the most entertaining part of the game was the wildly uncoordinated dance troupe that performed every time either team got an out or scored a point. The male members of the ensemble were forced to wear shiny red vests with no shirt underneath (a la Matthew McConaghey in Magic Mike), cowboy hats, and exercise pants with one leg rolled up. Not cute, you guys. Also, they sucked at dancing.

Anyway, cricket was a good time. I was a little disappointed that no crumpets were served, but beer and biltong were available, so that made up for a lot.

Here’s a picture of the sky over the cricket pitch. Not bad, Johannesburg.

Small adventures

October 28, 2012 / Stephanie / 0 Comments

Since arriving in South Africa, my life has been punctuated by a series of small adventures: Al has driven on the left-hand side of the road without killing us both in a fiery wreck. We spotted a white-tail deer at a country estate. I tried biltong (cured game jerky) and ostrich. And now, we are currently experiencing the small adventure of being locked inside our apartment. Exciting!

The thing about keys in South Africa is that they look like something from the Victorian age – spindly, toothy skeleton keys that require jiggling and cajoling and twisting.

We had been faring alright with the two big keys that unlock, respectively, the outside metal “security door” to our apartment and the inside wooden door. Then, this afternoon, we went to leave the apartment and found that our key would not open the lock. We tried to no avail for twenty minutes to jiggle and twist and cajole the key in the lock, but nothing worked.

After much frustration and a doomed attempt at soaking the key in Canola oil, we got in touch with an emergency locksmith, who is currently replacing our lock with a new one. He seemed suspicious of us, as if we were somehow responsible for the broken lock. But honestly, South Africa, get with the times. Yale locks have been around since 1848 (I checked) – what’s the hold up?

Looks like the locksmith has broken us out of our apartment prison. Time to go about our day. More small adventures await.

Thirty

October 27, 2012 / Stephanie / 1 Comment

I woke up today, my thirtieth birthday, with a hangover from drinking too much Pinotage at a South African country estate near Pretoria. So I guess this is my life now.

It’s been kind of a whirlwind. I left DC on Wednesday afternoon and got into Johannesburg on Thursday evening. Al was waiting for me at the airport with a bouquet of red roses (a romantic, that one!) and we embarked on our first South African adventure together: driving back to our apartment in a rental car, with no GPS, on the left side of the road. Nothing like a few brushes with death to really make one feel at home in a new place, eh?

Our apartment is in an area called Craighall Park, which is home to a fancy mall and a fancy grocery store (Woolworths — go figure) but is also curiously abundant with sex shops. We live directly across the street from a charming little place called Sextopia.

Our apartment complex, however, is gated off, leafy, and quiet. When we entered the gates, there were four little kids playing with water guns in the driveway. They all eyed us shyly and the oldest one asked us, very properly, how we were doing. We were fine.

That first night, we ate dinner at a restaurant in the fancy mall. I was immediately impressed with the food and the wine here, both of which are delicious and cheap.

My second day in South Africa, Al and I ran essential errands, which included buying a hair dryer, stocking up on wine, and getting a “wireless stick” for my computer, and then we packed into our rental car again to drive north to Kievits Kroon, a country estate where Al’s company was holding a retreat. We had cocktails on the veranda of a manor house (built in the “Cape Dutch style,” I am told) looking out over lush green lawns. A cat purred around our ankles. It was lovely.

I spent the rest of last night stuffing myself with a variety of tasty local dishes, including ostrich medallions, and a *bit* too much Pinotage, which is the signature varietal of South Africa, so how could I not, right? When in Pretoria, I say.

Anyway. Today I woke up thirty years old and with a red wine headache. But you know? I feel pretty good about it. I’m in Africa on a Grand Adventure with my husband. Bring it, old age. I’m ready for you.