Picture this.  Night time in Cape Town, all the lights of the town lit up below my perfectly perched  3rd floor walk up apt with walls of glass that open fully onto the smooth 72 degree night.  I can hear the crickets in the background, but Norah Jones, James Taylor, and a whole host of others are filling the air in this dwelling with their song.  Thankfully, my taxi driver knew where to find the only  liquor store in Cape Town open after 6pm.  Odd law, but it is what it is.  I scanned the label of chilled chardonnays in the refrigerated case, and not recognizing anything I turned to the kind woman shopping next to me.  I asked, “how’s this Meerlust Chardonnay?” “Very expensive – that’s one of the best – probably the most expensive in the case.”  Of course it is.  Because I don’t know how to do anything cheaply.  “How do I find out the price?” “Over here…yeah, it’s 189.”  A grin slowly filled my face.  Rand to Dollars is 10 to 1.  That’s $18.90.  🙂

The cost of living here in Cape Town is soooo much less than the US it’s crazy.  Last night at the concert I bought a glass of wine and a bottled water for $4.  Ok, let’s get to that concert.  My boy Dave did South Africa justice.  He was born here, in Johannesburg, so he considers these his “people”, but this was his first concert here.  So he played mostly songs that everyone knows.  And he rocked.  His shirt was wet with sweat after the first hour.  Here’s the set list:

Big Fish

Bartender

Belly Belly Nice

When The World Ends

Why I Am

Mercy

Funny The Way It Is

#41

So Much To Say

Too Much

Crash Into Me

Save Me

Everyday (feat. Vusi Mahlasela)

Warehouse

Sister

Squirm

Lie In Our Graves

Two Step

—

Sugar Man (Rodriguez)

Pantala Naga Pampa -> Rapunzel — with Denéle Gous.

Sadly, he didn’t play my 3 favorite songs, Superman, You and Me, and All Along the WatchTower.  Seen them all before so I’ll see them again another time.

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Interesting thing about South Africans.  They are so..nice.  Civilized.  They don’t crowd you, or knock into you.  They like their space and they respect yours.  I had the most expensive tickets you could buy at this venue, ($60.  I know.) which would be considered the “pit” at home – the area right in front of the stage where you stand and get your feet stomped on and get drinks spilled on you and if you’re short like me, you can’t see anyway.  These elegant people had such a polite way about them.  I was like…wait, I can squeeze in there and get closer to Dave and to the stage – why aren’t they moving up? Why is there all that ROOM??  So of course, being the New Yorker that I am, I moved up until I was 2nd from the fencing that blocks you from the stage.  Yay for me. Smiling and Dancing all night.

Ok, a lot to report. I hope you all know this is a journal for me as well as a script for my book, so I’m writing it all down and will edit later.  But if any of you are bored to tears, just don’t read it!!  No one is holding a gun to your head.  And you won’t insult me, I won’t even know you didn’t read the whole thing.  Until, of course, we speak , and you ask me a dumb question and I’m like…”didn’t you read what I wrote?”  Really, do whatever you want.  No apologies from me or you.

So my first night here I stayed at Cape Cadogan Hotel because the apt I rented wasn’t ready until the next day, so I really need to give a shout out to them.  It’s a lovely boutique hotel with 15 rooms that are comfy and beautiful, and I highly recommend them.  I had trouble with my computer getting online and they did everything to help me – seriously, they made phone calls to other IT whizzes, and spent lots of time working diligently – any one else would have just given it back to me and told me “sorry”, but they didn’t give up until they got it!  My girl Amber is lovely, sweet, personable, and makes you feel like her friend.  And Wisdom – what a friggin great name, right?? – couldn’t be nicer.  Great breakfast too.  Amber recommended this place for dinner and drinks called Rick’s Cafe – right on.  I had a delicious salad and spiced shrimp on skewers and some more vodka.  Met 2 young SA couples who offered me a ride home, which I graciously accepted. My mom freaked when I told her…getting into cars with strangers….as if I’m 5…I get it, but these were sweet, normal people.  I do have my antennae up at all times.  Mom…stop.

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But I regress.  After I got to the hotel, Nicky and Bryan, the owners of the apt I’m renting  invited me to meet them for drinks.  I was thrilled!!  Oh – how did I find this apartment?  I’ve been searching for all my apts. on www.airbnb.com.  It’s a fantastic website that is for people who don’t want to pay up for hotels but still want a great experience.  There are all kinds of homes and apartments posted on there, all over the world, and the site uses a review system so you can get the real deal from people who have stayed there on the pros and cons of each place as well as the owners/hosts.  Nicky’s place is beautiful. As is Nicky.  And she and Bryan couldn’t be more fabulous.  The apartment is totally high styled, clean, loaded with everything you would need (a drop dead view of Cape Town and the ocean, washer, dryer, fully stocked modern kitchen, great bed and bedding, surround sound speakers for my music, and a ridiculous projector TV in the master bedroom that feels like you’re in a theater…I’ll save all the other stuff for my review on the site, but you can check out this apt at here).  So I meet Nicky and Bryan for drinks and they’ve invited the current tenants who are moving out tomorrow, who happen to be from Portland, and they too are adorable and..going to the Dave concert!  I don’t know…something in the universe, ay?

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The next morning after breakfast I checked out of the wonderful Cape Cadogan Hotel and moved into the apartment.  Bryan met me there, carried my 1000 lbs of crap up 50 steps like a total gentleman, and showed me around.  Sharon, the housekeeper was there cleaning, and after Bryan left, I began to unpack.  I had only a few minutes until my taxi picked me up for my boat ride to Robben Island, the place where Nelson Mandela was jailed for 18 of his 27 imprisoned years.  When I got into the cab, the friendly driver greeted me and made some small talk, asking me if I had prepaid for my ticket.  Oh! My ticket!! I left it in the apartment!!  We had just left, so we quickly turned around and I ran back upstairs to grab it. Sharon didn’t hear me come in as I quickly ran into the bedroom to dig into my unpacked bag…but….wait…my stuff was out of it, littered all around it on the floor….I didn’t open that bag yet…wait…Sharon??  She had run into the bathroom when I came in, and it slowly hit me why.  She had gone through my stuff and had it all out…my jewelry, my camera, my computer…half of my backpack was out…and I thought – SHIT!  My CASH!!  I said this out loud, to which Sharon replied, “what cash!!” She hadn’t gotten that far down into my bag to find it yet.  Phewwwww!!  I looked at her, and our eyes met and held.  I said to her, “I have never accused anyone of stealing anything in my life.  This is not right”.  To which she replied, “You unpacked”.  “I never opened this bag”.  No comment.  She and I both knew what she had done.  “This is not right”, I said.  I quickly threw everything of value into my big rolling duffel and locked it.  And left.

Here’s the good news.  Nothing was stolen or missing.  I caught it in time.  And maybe she won’t do that again since she got caught.  Maybe she was just curious and had no intention of stealing anything.  I’ll never know, but it’s really all ok. I called Nicky to tell her, she was completely embarrassed and apologetic, which I can totally understand – it could happen to any of us! This was someone she used infrequently on days that her regular housekeeper who has been with her for 15 years didn’t work. Like Sundays.  Anyway, it’s all good.  She got fired, locks got changed immediately, and I’m feeling fine. Of course I didn’t tell my mom because I’d like to prevent a heart attack and the conversation that would entail.  And mom, if you’re reading this, there’s really nothing to discuss.  It’s over and I’m fine.

I keep digressing.  So…Robben Island.  A gorgeous sunny day on a ferry over to the island, a live narrated bus tour of the island where you drive by the jail and see some other interesting landmarks, such as the limestone quarry where the prisoners manually mined the stone, and the original church built by the English.  The bus lets you off at the jail where you see what the group and individual cells were like.  Nelson Mandela, President of South Africa from 1994-1999 and the first black person to hold that office,  was a political prisoner there from 1964 until 1982 where he was confined to a tiny single cell, the floor as his bed, and a bucket for a toilet.

“He was allowed one visitor a year for 30 minutes. He could write and receive one letter every six months. But Robben Island became the crucible which transformed him. Through his intelligence, charm and dignified defiance, Mandela eventually bent even the most brutal prison officials to his will, assumed leadership over his jailed comrades and became the master of his own prison. He emerged from it the mature leader who would fight and win the great political battles that would create a new democratic South Africa.”

This is an extraordinary man.  And it’s unfathomable to imagine this happening in 1990!!!  That’s like yesterday!!!  I apologize for my ignorance for not knowing more about this…glad to know it now though and happy to learn more.  You know, we are so “politically correct” in America, and the reason I think it’s important is to set a standard for respecting people of all colors and races.  Our habits have been formed since we are young, and it is a difficult thing to change, but with practice and social pressure to do so, we will learn and eventually get there.  I can forgive missteps by people like Paula Deen and various others who may not really be racists but were raised at a time when segregation and racism was the norm.  Listen, I don’t know these people – Paula Deen?  But I like to think that generally people are good. They just don’t know better.  All the more reason they need to be educated and informed.  You know, cut us all open and we all look the same.

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Wine bottle is 2/3 gone and I’m rambling.  As I said, no one is holding a gun to your head.

Today I was privileged (yes, privileged) to work with Noeline de Goede, CEO,  and Sethu, an alumni and intern of the Kay Mason Foundation, a not-for-profit that selects and supports underprivileged children for educational scholarships that place them in acceptable schools from 8th through 12th grade.  These young South African students come from varying backgrounds, speak various languages (there are tens of different languages in South Africa alone), but they share one thing – they all possess the drive, the attitude, the desire to have an education.  There are many students that apply for this scholarship.  They are all interviewed and selected based on need, grades, character, and their desire to succeed. The difference between this organization and most others is that the scholars are not chosen by the way they look on paper, based on their low-income and grades.  Noeline and the KMF are completely hands on with these kids. They meet with each child in a lengthy interview, they visit many of them in their homes to see the conditions they come from, they meet with parents or guardians, and they get to know the children who claim to want to a better life for themselves.  Some of these kids have absolutely no one in their lives to rely on, to support them, to get them to the interview and the Saturday classes in Math and English that are offered.  They walk miles.  They figure out public transport.  They keep organized schedules. They are 12 years old.  Yes, they are 12 years old.  Only 15 scholars are selected each year, so it is quite competitive.  And yes, there are some that get dropped from the program if they have too many warnings for bad behavior, poor grades because of low effort, etc.  Education is not a given in South Africa.  One is not entitled as it is in the States.  Again, something to be thankful for.

So yeah, I worked.  I inserted papers into the students files for their upcoming interviews, I called various parents to set up times for their interviews.  I learned to pronounce their African names – very challenging! Nmbobo, Sisetho, Thandie. I read the student’s donor letters to correct their grammar and punctuation.  And I got to know the people behind this organization.  Sethu is fascinating.  She is a pretty, very poised and well-spoken 20 year-old alumni of KMF who attends University now and works 2 jobs to help her family.  Her siblings did not go through the program, because they didn’t want to, and she is fine with their choices.  She speaks English beautifully, although Xhosa is her first language, and as she demonstrates it with it’s different clicks of the tongue it sounds like a song. She talked openly about her upbringing and the way her friends at her previous school think she’s a snob or better than they are because she attended a “white” school, but she knows she is nonjudgemental and humble about her accomplishments.  In South Africa, it is common for blacks and whites to talk about blacks and whites. And coloreds.  Coloreds, I learned from Sethu, are the offspring of a black and white couple.  “You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between blacks and coloreds but we can,” she admits.  Black South Africans are very proud of their heritage and their language and they do not want to lose it to the modern white society that is the majority in Cape Town.  So  they often frown upon their own when they speak English, the “white” language.  But again, Sethu is fine with all of this.  And I know she is a fine young lady.  Would love to meet up with her in 10 years.

Noeline de Gourde is….well, she’s everything.  She is the CEO, the administrator, the social worker, the publicist, the interviewer, the grader….she’s the machine that keeps KMF going.  Tireless, dedicated, loving and nurturing to these scholars, she is passionate about her work and about each and every child.  She tells stories like a proud parent about the scholars and their progress.  She empathizes with the children whose families suffer medical, drug, or psychological problems and don’t partake much in their children’s well being. She speaks Afrikaans as her first language and is self-taught in English although you would think the reverse.  She wants to grow this organization and I would love to help her. She needs sponsors, stationary, manpower, and contributions.  She needs new computers, a printer, and a new space to move into.  If you can find something within yourself to reach out and help, please do.  www.kmf.org.za.

Still haven’t had enough of me?  Here’s some cool things I learned today.

1.  No matter what language one speaks, “ok” is universal.

2. When you answer your phone in South Africa, most say their name first, and then hello twice, as in “Meryl, hello, hello?”

3.  South Africans love to BRAAI (pronounced bry), which means BBQ. Nicky & Bryan will BRAAI for me Thurs night – they are so ridiculously cool I’m already in love.

4.  South Africans’ word for ‘standing in line’ is queue (pronounced “Q”), as in ‘you will have to queue if you want tickets to the show’.

5.  Liquor can’t be sold in Cape Town after 6pm. Except at Harley’s till 9. Very important.