Sunday, October 23, 2011

THE AMAZING RACE BEGINS

October 15th – October 21st

God created the universe in 6 days. 
God has nothin' on Alan, Chelsea and me!

Day #1:
*Picked Alan up at Johannesburg International Airport – brimming with excitement as we waited. The instant he walked through the doors I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face – HOME had arrived in JoBurg! The reunion couldn’t last long – we had to gather up Alan and his bags and scramble off to Lanseria International Airport (about 30 minutes away) to catch our 12:45pm flight to Cape Town.

*Checked into Lanseria. With our footwear still on and not so much as a second glance from any guard, we crossed through security. We sat for 45 minutes before exiting the airport terminal, crossing the tarmac and boarding the bright orange plane destined to transport us two hours south to Cape Town.

*After Alan’s third plane ride in 24 hours, we stuffed our suitcases into the tiny trunk of our rented Hyundai and set the GPS for Boulders Beach. Alan’s confusion with the left side of the road continued as he stifled his warnings to “get back on the right side of the road!” The scenery, completely opposite of the landscape of Johannesburg, triggered many Oos and Ahs as we traveled along the coast. One stop to see a whale playing in the harbor, and we were finally at Boulders Beach and the African Penguin Colony. The little tuxedo wearing birds were scattered along a boardwalk. They were hidden among the bushes, squeaking like Teq’s dog toys, and laying in the sand oblivious to the tourists’ eyes. With our toes in the sand, we gazed out across False Bay and admired the beauty of the mountains, boulders, and Atlantic Ocean.




*The sun began to lower in the sky. It was time to find our B&B (The House on the Hill) and we did so by way of a scenic drive called Chapman’s Peak Drive. It’s reputation for being a gorgeous span of road along the coast was completely accurate. Shades of pink, red, and orange brushed the sky, stopping at the horizon where the deep, sparkling blue water continued to color the image in our eyes. The setting sun illuminated the mountains and ledges that we drove along causing them to almost glow. It was one of those moments in time you never want to end - visually stimulating on every level. 









Tuesday, October 11, 2011

ALAN IS COMING!!

October 11, 2011


With tears in my eyes, excitement somewhere inside, and fear in my head I climbed the stairs at Liz’s place emerging from the basement where the rest of the crew continued watching the Super Bowl game. Alan had just arrived and it was time to see him in person after sharing my news – I would be moving to South Africa to teach! “I’m so scared Alan!” I admitted as the salt water spilled over onto my cheeks. His response instantly warmed me, “What? Are you kidding! I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to go to South Africa!” The excitement spread across his face like a child on Christmas morning and began to reassure me. In that moment, I knew I would have at least one visitor during my two year stay. Eight months later – here he comes!

In four days I will find my way to the Johannesburg Airport and stand near the baggage claim awaiting my great friend, my running buddy, my first American visitor - Alan. In all of my life I have never lived in a place no one else has been to before and had visitors. Seeing Alan walking towards me – a piece of home in a land so far away – is sure to be nothing less than amazing!

(His arrival marks the beginning of our spring break from school. Immediately following Johannesburg Airport, Chelsea, Alan, and I will scoot over to a smaller airport where we will take off for our visit to Cape Town. Whales, penguins, Table Mountain, vineyards, shark cages, and possibly skydiving are on the agenda…stay tuned for new posts! ) 

Hitting the Roads


October 10, 2011

“I’ll never run a 10K.”
“I’ll never run a half marathon.”
“I’ll never run a full marathon.”
Over the past several years I uttered these phrases as I proudly stood on the side of the road watching Lori reach each running milestone. Be it twin competitiveness or motivation from my beautiful other half, I have successfully proved myself wrong. I have run many 10Ks, completed five half marathons, and in a year and a half trained for and ran two full marathons. Thanks to the example my favorite person in the world set for me, I have become a genuine runner.

Turning left onto William Nichol Drive at 6:45 in the morning (Monday – Friday) is like driving the wrong way in a road race. To my right (remember: I drive on the left side of the road here) sits a solid line of traffic that stretches for what seems like miles, resembling a line of ants travelling back to their nest.  Flashing by my window on the left are walkers and runners. Different than a road race, these “competitors” are not wearing a bib or after a medal. Instead, they are dressed for work – long pants, skirts, jumpsuits, etc. Every morning it takes me by surprise.

I am nearly certain that most of these men and women are residents of a local township Diepsloot. Known as one of the more dangerous townships, Diepsloot begins about 4 miles down William Nichol from where I turn left to head to school. Although its reputation is one that certainly discourages anyone from traveling through the township while the sun is sleeping – “You don’t ever go through here at night!” we were told – these people who trod along the side of the road each and every morning are not scary.

I do not lock my doors as I drive by. I leave my windows cracked open without fear that someone will smash them. In fact, I actually find myself smiling when I spot the black man with shoulder length dreads who runs with a drawstring bag on his back with the strings cinched in front of his chest – presumably containing all he needs for the day. Sitting in my car, listening to the radio and sipping my iced coffee, I hope to catch sight of the older black man who runs with his florescent yellow shirt and light colored hat. He must be nearly sixty - if not older. I wonder as I pass him by, how many years has he been running to work?

It’s hard, at the end of the day, to make excuses for not going out for a run after seeing the same men and women trudging up the massive hills as they return from a full day’s work. Although I am not prepared to run any half or full marathons in the very near future, I have found myself remaining dedicated to the sport. Despite the effects of altitude and the insane amount of hills, I am managing to remain consistent with my running. At the risk of future embarrassment should I not follow through, I have set a goal for my second year here in Africa: to run the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon. In order to complete the 35 miles, I will need to continue conquering the elevation and overwhelming amount of hills Johannesburg has thrown in my path. I suspect that the more I bear witness to the dedication of these Diepsloot residents, I will be able to say:

“I will run 60Ks.” 

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Weekend in the Bush


September 23 – 25

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy my job, thrive in a learning environment, love interacting with my students, and feel good at the end of the day for the difference I have made. However, tell me I have a long weekend, and I will never complain! Thanks to the South African holiday Heritage Day, we were granted just that – an early release on Thursday and no school on Friday. PERFECT! 




After a three and a half hour drive, culminating with nearly 30 miles of dirt road driving, I cruised my dirty white Jetta through the gate at Madikwe Game Reserve. Beware! You have now entered Big 5 Country – the brown and yellow sign signaled the beginning of what we hoped would be a successful game viewing experience. About 10 minutes past the gate, we came across a watering hole on the side of the road. The surreal beauty of lanky giraffes, skittish impalas, and a few passive zebras surrounded us on both sides. Immediately the cameras started snapping. As the driver I was limited to my cell phone camera – why hadn’t I remembered to take my camera out of my bag?! Inside the car we remarked on the incredible reality that was our life in that moment – our innocent intrusion into the life of these gorgeous animals. Outside the car, the giraffe looked at us as if we were flies – nuisances they wished would disappear – but not dangerous enough to flee from faster than a casual stroll. The zebra barely looked up from their meal of parched grass.

Sixteen of us travelled the distance from Jo’Burg to Madikwe, which resides near the border of Botswana.  Separated in five cars, we began as a train of four, with one couple set to meet us at the park. What began as a cohesive unit quickly broke into two smaller groups as our leader, Kaitlyn, took a wrong turn! The four of us in my little Jetta stuck like glue to Sandy and Fred in their massive SUV. Marcus in his little Pugeot remained with Kaitlyn and Kurt. Thankfully, GPSs are a wonderful invention, and we all managed to reconvene at the Park Administration car park with enough time to enjoy a cold beer. Our excitement grew with the possibilities the weekend dangled in front of us as we looked at the dusty dirt roads, blowing grass the color of a lion’s mane, and the acres of bush that camouflaged nearly all of Africa’s amazing creatures. 









When all were accounted for, we put away our car keys, threw our bags into the back of an empty safari jeep, and climbed into the two other jeeps that were waiting to take us to the center of the game park – our home for the next two nights.

Mosetlha Bush Camp was an adorable camp nestled in the middle of the entire game reserve. With only two wires strung around it’s perimeter about eight feet from the ground, the camp was completely vulnerable to the African bush and all it’s inhabitants – from puff adders to spiders, elephants to giraffe. “But what about the lions – can’t they come into camp?” a friend asked. “Yup.” came in response. In fact, come to find out, the second night, while we all slept soundly, a male leopard entered and explored our camp. Had he wanted to, any one of us could have been his midnight snack. It was an uneasy, yet incredibly thrilling experience to be so exposed. As we entered camp, we were given a tour of the amenities, which despite the lack of electricity and running water, were actually quite nice. The “dining room” boasted an enormous, beautiful wooden table. It easily sat all sixteen of us with a little room to spare. We all split into pairs to share sleeping quarters. My significant other, AKA Chelsea, and I bunked together for the weekend. The cabins were cozy. Twin beds, a single table, two lanterns, and a three walls. The front and back walls were only half walls – allowing for exposure to the outdoors. Despite our susceptibility, the thing I feared most was not the lions, but rather the possibility of spiders and snakes sneaking in the nooks and crannies of our humble abode.

Although I remained pretty grimy all weekend, there were shower fascilities in camp. They consisted of a fenced off area complete with a shower stall, as well as a bathroom (a raised hole in the ground with a toilet seat on top). The shower was a steel bucket rigged to a pulley system, with a spout built into the bottom. If you desired to shower, you first must fill a bucket with water, pass it through the donkey boiler (real name!) to heat it, and then carry it to the shower stall. Next, you would pour the water into the steel bucket and then control the output with a lever attached to the spout. Quite frankly, I regret that I cannot say I experienced this.

At 4:00pm we gathered our layers (the nights get chilly), cameras, hopes and scrambled into the two Land Rover Jeeps, eight in each, ready for our first of four game drives. My guide’s name was Johnny – without so much as a smile, he placed his shotgun into its place on the dashboard, started up the jeep, and away we went.  Immediately, we were met with the chatter of the radio – filled with mentions of animal sightings (mostly spoken in Afrikaans). It felt as though we were on a mission – a level of intensity settled on our jeep – but in a way that made our hearts race and smiles increase with excitement for what was possible. Suddenly, Johnny stopped the jeep and hopped out. Where was he going?! He bent down and pointed to a fresh paw print in the dirt – lions! In that large paw print, possibility grew!
 
The other jeep had pulled off onto the side of a trail we were on. Johnny, clearly establishing himself as the more take charge of the two guides, pulled off the trail as well, but continued to drive through the bush a ways until he stopped and pointed. Ahead, hidden slightly behind the trees, but in clear enough view, were three or four Cape Buffalo. Again, they stared back at us with our flashing cameras and excited whispers, as if we were pesky, uninvited guests. In the way a woman might flip her hair and turn away, the buffalo took one last look at us and then meandered on their way – out of sight. Now, all I need to see to complete my Big 5 sightings was a lion. Game on!

The writer in me could sit here and recount every moment of that first and the next three game drives; however, my words could never do justice to the sights, sounds, and rushes of emotion I experienced. In the same way the photographer in me exerted so much energy to capture the perfect shots, every ounce of me wants to make you feel the emotions of my life this weekend: the pristine beauty of grazing zebra, the quirky habits of a warthog, the unique sounds of 30 elephant splashing and playing at a watering hole while the sun sets behind them. Mostly, I wish for you to comprehend how grateful I am to have these opportunities to exist side by side with the animals of Africa – the animals I once saw in National Geographic and dreamed (but dismissed the possibility) of connecting with in their natural habitat.

Hearing the snort of a rhino as he sleeps cuddled up next to his mate, the rustle of the grass as a wild dog shifts its weight, the trumpet of an elephant as she threatens to charge our jeep for disturbing her family in the middle of their evening stroll, or the menacing growl of two lions as they warn off a hyena who is about to steal their fresh kill under the cover of darkness reminded me how beautiful life is.

Our final game drive began with loads of hope. After the successful sighting of lions and angry elephants the night before, we all desired a finale of Independence Day proportions. The sun was rising in a cloudless sky, the chill of the morning hung in the air, and we all were huddled in our jeeps wrapped in blankets with cameras ready. Johnny, unfortunately still lacking a personality, spotted fresh lion tracks immediately. We were on the hunt. Four hours later – we completed the hunt without a single sighting of lions. It was difficult not to be weighted down with disappointment; however, I worked hard to see the day for what it was: a new kind of game experience – tracking! For those of you who have seen the TV show LOST, I felt like John Locke! In an attempt to remain positive, I look back on that failure of a game drive as a chance to say I have tracked lions!

Many times as I was sitting on the raised seats in the back of the green Land Rover with nothing but air between me and the splendors of the Bush, I found myself asking you all back home: “So what did you do this weekend?” In response to no one, I would say: “Oh nice. Me? I camped with the wilds of Africa.” 

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Night Safari - tracking lions!

I've learned that anyone who goes on a safari hopes to catch sight of some lions. Watching lions under the cover of darkness, as they chase off a hyena in it attempt to steal their fresh kill, now that is what I call a lucky moment! Here is a video of just what we saw as my new friends and I waited, in the dark, on the outskirts of a thicket of trees at Madikwe Game Park. Johnny, our driver, had tracked three lions and brought us, just as the sun sank below the horizon, to the spot where they had dragged and partially eaten a wildebeest. My heart raced, and I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face as we witnessed this moment, sitting less than a hundred feet away in an open jeep...
(beware: the quality of this movie is not even close to oscar worthy, but it is pretty exciting!) 


Sunday, September 18, 2011

International Food Festival

September 16, 2011


I don’t like seafood, I am not a huge fan of cheese, I’ll send back anything with mayonnaise or ranch dressing, forget about cream cheese or sour cream, and if it is pink inside – it better go back on the grill. I’m a picky eater. Everyone knows it and tries to encourage it out of me. I must say, despite the lack of credit given to me, I have made great advances in the world of culinary taste testing over the last couple of years. All this growth I have made was matched and exceeded at the International Food Festival today. The empty plate given to me as I entered the gymnasium was piled high with samplings of food from at least a dozen countries! If I do say so myself, in regard to growing less picky, I succeeded with flying colors!

In conjunction with the Parade of Nations, families from almost all 83 countries prepared traditional dishes for the AISJ International Food Festival. Spread across the entire gymnasium, tables were culturally decorated and topped with side dishes, main course, and deserts. It was incredible – the smells were divine, the options endless, and the plates weighted with more food than any one person EVER needs to eat: German chocolate cake, American turkey and chocolate chip cookies, Belgium waffles, Japanese sushi, South African milk tarts and biltong, Mexican tortillas and salsa, Indian samoosas, English scones, Hungarian sausages, Pakistani curried stew, Israeli falafels and hummus, Swedish meatballs, and so much more. Table after table of international cuisine that tempted and satisfied even the pickiest of eaters!

Following the smorgasbord, walking back to my class, I contemplated rolling down the hill because it would be easier than carrying my weighted load. Only two other times in my life am I ever that full: Thanksgiving and Christmas. The only thing that would make this Food Festival better would be if it repeated itself weekly!  

Parade of Nations


September 16, 2011

Walking down the hall towards my classroom this morning, I was greeted with the sound of good ol’ country music blaring from Sam’s iPod player in her classroom next door. With a big smile on my face and a feeling of home, I danced into her room belting out the lyrics! We both started dancing, and her “early to arrive” student stared at us like we were nuts! Dressed in cowboy boots and I in my red,white, and blue – we continued to dance like proud Americans!
Today was AISJ’s Parade of Nations – a day where students and staff were encouraged to dress in traditional clothing from their home nations. At 9:30, gathered on the field, we would parade as nations to celebrate our diversity. I layered up in my red, white, and blue and wrapped the American flag my brother gave me – which flew from his tank in Iraq – around my waist! The kids called me Captain America!
After leaving Sam’s classroom and our country line dance, I entered my classroom and immediately began playing Lee Greenwood’s PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN. Singing as my students entered the room; I couldn’t help but smile and truly feel proud to be an American. Hope was first to enter the room. She was dressed in her traditional Japanese gown – complete with a large blue ribbon tied tightly around her waist and bowed in the back. She looked beautiful. Laughing at me as I was singing, “and I proudly stand up next to you and defend her still today…” Hope began to respond to the morning message.

One by one, my students filtered into the room dressed in their countries’ colors and traditional dress; each wearing a smile that suggested excitement and pride. In those moments and for the remainder of the day, I felt beautifully overwhelmed by the “world” around me. In one way, I felt so small – a tiny part of something so powerful, and in another way, I felt larger than life to be representing a country I am so proud to call home in another country that has welcomed me and so many other outsiders.


Down on the field, our entire student body (pre-k to seniors) was separated in groups along the perimeter of a large square – facing a gathered crowd of parents and community members who mirrored the colors and faces of those students about ready to parade. As I scanned the crowd of little and big alike, all I saw was a sea of diversity. Flags from 83 countries fluttered in the wind, smiles from 83 countries sat waiting their turn to march. In one corner, the red, yellow, green, and black of South Africa stood – neighbors with the red, white, and blue of the United States of America. Some areas were filled by large groups of students, who until now had never met; while others were filled with a single representative standing tall, flag in hand.

Dr. Andy Page-Smith, AISJ’s director, began the ceremonies with the announcement that this year’s parade would be the school’s largest, representing 83 nations. Following his welcome, the elementary school’s student council president asked for all to remember those affected by the tragedy of 9-11, ten years prior. My heart skipped a beat as I felt, even deeper, the meaning of being an American. The school band and chorus joined together to lead the assembly in America’s National Anthem. It felt funny to stand on South African soil and sing the words of another country’s anthem. That didn’t stop me from proudly joining the collection of voices – standing a little taller as I did.

The parade took the format of the opening ceremonies at the Olympics. Each country, in alphabetical order, was announced and then walked around the inside perimeter of the square. Some countries had a single representative who strode along, while others marched seemingly endlessly. Little 4-year olds walked side by side with young adults. Cameras flashed and flags waved. It was inspiring to stand aside as faces from all parts of the world passed me by. I was reminded just how big the world really is, and yet how we are all so similar.  


Finally, it was our turn. Like a wave rolls onto shore, American students and staff spilled onto the parade route waving the stars and stripes. I giggled with happiness, walked with pride, and smiled with every ounce of home that filled me in those moments. It’s one thing to wear red, white, and blue on the Fourth of July in the states, but it’s completely different to wear the colors of a country I love so much in a world that is 8,000 miles away.

As the Americans trickled off the grass path, a child’s voice asked for all to stand as the National Anthem of South Africa began playing. Red, Yellow, Green and Black began parading around the square complete with loud applause. Flags swooshed through the air, painted faces smiled back at the crowd, and citizens of South Africa passed by all the foreigners who were temporarily calling this country home. I took a step back with a strong realization that for the first time in my life, I was a visitor to the country I was residing in. This was the first national celebration I have ever been to where my country isn’t calling itself host. It wasn’t a sad feeling. It was a reminder that I am not home but rather in a time in my life I will never forget – a place outside of my comfort zone where I can learn more about who I am, why I am proud to wear the red, white, and blue, and who I want to be in the future. 



Copy and Paste this link into your web browser to see my PARADE OF NATIONS photo album:

https://picasaweb.google.com/108109032757034854564/ParadeOfNationsAISJ?authkey=Gv1sRgCOLgmffRvpWaVA