First 24 hours in Jo-Berg, South Africa

Despite the free internet, movies, and in-flight meals, there was a feeling of relief when the captain announced that we were finally in South Africa.  The 14 hour flight from Atlanta to Jo-berg put us in at 5pm local time (about 7 hours ahead of the States).  Sarah and Conner, friends traveling with Mesa State’s Outdoor Program, experienced their first international landing and were promptly greeted by a drug-sniffing dog at the baggage carousel.  The dog must have been trained to look for delicious food because the security guard swiped Conner’s beef jerkey upon the dog’s recommendations.

As we exited the airport, we were greeted by an enthusiastic Heidi and Joel, more friends from the O.P.  They brought a free shuttle from Gemmini Backpackers and informed us with sheer excitement that they had already appeared on South Africa’s MTV with the African equivalent of Metallica.  While I chattered on, Mark, Sarah and Connor went to the ATM to load up on cash, the African Rand (the conversion is about 6.5 : 1 US).

The driver loaded our bags into a tall taxi van where we sat comfortably shoulder to shoulder.  As we drove through green boulevards, I was surprised at the peaceful quiet, no honking, no weaving.  There were skyscrapers, nicely paved roads, and loads of infrastructure as well as modern cars that could be seen in any other large U.S. city.  Toyotas were well represented, but we also spotted a tiny black Ford truck which sounded like a 3 cylinder.  During the drive, I enjoyed a conversation with a Dutch gal named Laura.  She had studied food services for a semester in Michigan before becoming a teacher in the Netherlands.  She was here on 3 months of vacation.  So far, she had been to Japan, Thailand, and Zambia.  She spoke perfect English as well as 4 other languages, and when Mark expressed embarrassment at how most Americans only speak fluent English, she kindly noted the privilege that we must enjoy.  Truly, we’re spoiled.  Despite her origination in the Netherlands, she paid to volunteer for three weeks in Zambia as an English teacher for children.

After a short drive through the city, the streets narrowed into the northern suburbs.  We arrived at our swanky accommodations, a hostel complete with beautiful gardens, a pool, lounges, and several kitchens.  The outdoor music was thumping like dance club; I immediately loved it.

We joined the rest of our group of 11 who were checking out an indestructible Helix that 3 Isreali guys had recently purchased in Cape Town for about $11,000 US.  They had just finished outfitting it for a 3 month desert journey, and were showing off its metal bars, deep drawers, and attached tent.  We caught up with the group, then arranged for a taxi to a 7-11 type grocery store.  We loaded up on Black Label beer (a delicious ale), chicken stir-fry, and pasta for supper.

Back at the $10 per person hostel, we congregated in the kitchen as we each grilled chicken, boiled rice, and stir-fried veggies.  More than once, we heard someone say with amazement, “We’re in fricking South Africa!”  Mark slipped away to work on his final paper while the internet and general power came and went via the large power adapter.

The temperature was cooler than expected, and by the time I showered in the two dial shower (cold and colder), I was freezing.  I went to bed with wet hair and freezing toes, thankful I had packed a fleece jacket, but too cold to get out of bed to dig it out of my duffle bag.  During the night, a powerful rain storm moved through which peacefully lulled me to sleep despite the running I kept hearing up above on the metal roof.  I imagined a cute little monkey running across it, but a breakfast I was informed that there were large rats that had been seen in the area.

After a breakfast of toast and eggs, we were ready for an adventure, so the whole gang took the short walk down a street and alleyway to a main street with public transportation.  Those who had done it before put their hands out indicating “1” which meant they wanted to go downtown.  Within minutes, a mini van pulled over, and for 6 Rand (about $1 US) loaded us up, and took us to the MTN taxi station, a central bus hub.  At the hub, we ventured into Boxer, a grocery store where we purchased Diet Coke (or Coke Light as it’s called here), and fried chicken from the hot deli case.  We then inquired about the mini-van that carries passengers to the Apartheid Museum.  As soon as the van was loaded up, we were off.  We were dropped about a block from the museum, where we could admire the boldly displayed words displayed on the museum’s pillars: democracy, equality, reconciliation, diversity, responsibility, respect, freedom . 

The entrance was divided into white and colored entrances, and people were asked to enter according to the race listed on their museum ticket.  Throughout the museum, quotes about apartheid were displayed along with a Nelson Mandela exhibit.  I struck by what an incredible man he is, how well he strategized and how hard he worked to forgive and bring equality to his country.  At the end of the museum, we enjoyed a latte (turns out I can get delicious ones here as well- full fat rather than skim, but, hey, what the hell).  The rest of the group went off to tour a mine or something like that while Mark and I returned to the hostel so that he could complete his final paper before the deadline.  Oh, glorious internet, before you he would have had to finish it before leaving town; now we have the option to turn things in right at the deadline, AND blog about it.  Oh, technology, you’re the best.