Invisible.

The Dad and I go off in search of a car.  He's been doing meticulous research (which is his way) for a month to find something that has all the trimmings and what-whats I desire and has lined up two cars for us to go and look at.  Since I've been unemployed for 6 months no one is SA is going to offer me a loan and he's taken one out on my behalf.  For the first time in my life I will be paying off a car, or as my friend Sean says, I will be renting a car from the bank.  It really isn't mine at all.

I haven't seen much since I landed so this is really my first venture out into the world.  I've watched some tv though which was a culture shock all in itself, Kyknet mostly with my parents.  It's an Afrikaans station that promotes our culture and having been away for so long it felt like I was an alien watching a strange parody of my heritage.  It's the weirdest feeling.  I spent alot of time laughing my head off. 

My mom introduced me to a show called "Die Glammer Guru" (which she recorded) in which this extremely gay boy called Hannon with the thickest Pretoria accent you could possibly imagine does mini-makeovers on ladies from Paternoster and Bloemfontein.  At the end of the show the woman are revealed to themselves instead of a live studio audience, and inevitably they do a "Oe Hannon, ek kan my oe nie glo nie!  Oe!  Dis 'n wonderwerk!  Jy's 'n miracle worker!" and then they burst into tears and he gets the same look on his face men get after they've had a little orgasm. 

I have the same feeling I had when I arrived in the US: I am an outsider looking into a glass box in which there's a pre-recorded show that I am now a part of. 

The Dad-man and I drive through Darling and head to Malmesbury in his big four wheeler, complete with aircon, airbags and heated seats.  We are listening to some classical music as we drive past my first township in 6 months.  People living in shacks, metal sheets stacked together.  A couple of faces follow us as we drive by and the music plays on.  We stop at at an intersection.  There's a woman who's been trying to hitch a ride but when she sees us she puts her thumb down.  I'm finding it hard to look at her.  I think back on riding the bus in New Orleans, the readiness of everyone to engage me, a stranger, and me engaging back and here I am back in SA unable to look a normal bystander in the eye.

I am ashamed you see.  Here we are, in our big-ass car.  My ancestors oppressed, raped and pilaged this land to make space for me and because of it this woman is standing on the side of the road unable to get where she's going and we are driving this car.  She knows we won't give her a lift because we're too afraid of being attacked, robbed or having our car stolen.  And so there is a quiet understanding that our lives are completely different, and we all look away.

And it feels like my heart is breaking into a million little pieces.

Touch down.

The first thing I did on African soil was chuck up my breakfast. 

The turbulence got me bad and it happened twice more as the plane ambled along looking for a nice place to park.  The guy sitting next to me clasped his hand over his mouth like you do when a monster jumps out from behind a cupboard and looked at me as if to say: "You managed to hold out for 15 hours, is this really necessary??".  Caught between my vomit and the window.  Welcome to South Africa.

After emptying out my bowels completely I melted into a bench at Jozi Airport and slept for 3 hours clutching at my luggage until I took a much more pleasant flight to Cape Town.  I'm pretty sure the higher grade tranquilizers that old lady gave me had something to do with it though.  Dad picked me up.  On the drive home I realised I was shaking.  After a car ride, a plane, another plane and a car ride I got to my final destination.  Said hi to my mom.  Fell into bed.

Sunday morning I woke up in a double bed in my own private room in the most beautiful place in the world: Jakkalsfontein, South Africa. 

Mom organised a victory lunch in my honour and so my boet, his wife and their two kids and my sister, her husband and their three kids all rocked up.  My sister's kids ran and flung themselves into my arms, holding on till we fell down on the ground and the four of us rolled around laughing.  It was the best welcome home present I could have hoped for.

Later I watched my brother and his wife hunt around the garden for a shongololo so that their 18 month old would eat her food.  (It's become a ritual.  She enjoys killing them on her plate and for some reason this makes her hungry.)  Before everyone left I doled out chocolates from America and instantly became the favorite aunt which made me feel like Father Christmas and the Queen of England all at the same time. 

I watched my entire family assembled in the kitchen drinking wine and thought: I am part of this.  This is where I fit in.  Here I have a name, a history.  Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.  The same as traveling I guess.

And it felt good to be a part of it.

The Grand Finale.

This is a picture of me packing. 

In 24 hours I will be boarding SAA flight UA9816 non-stop to Jozi which will be a substantially shorter flight than the one that brought me here.  Then I will have a 3 hour stop-over before getting on flight SAA 333 to  Cape Town, due to land @ 14h10 Saturday 28th of November.  At the airport will be my parents, the same people who delivered me to their doors five and a half months ago.  They will load me into their car and ship me off to Jakkalsfontein on the west coast where I will spend the weekend telling tales of my travels to my family and their offspring.

On Monday I will most likely go to Stellenbosch where I will start making some clear decisions about how to re-assemble my life over the next month.  On Tuesday I have a dental appointment in town.  By Wednesday it will feel like none of this ever happened, like no time has passed at all, and I'll wonder what's happening at the places I've visited in America, and if I've left any mark whatsoever.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Feed me.

I've decided to only live on things that I won't be able to eat when I'm back in SA.

Consequently I now live on Reese's peanut butter cups, good pizza slices, mexican food, Corona, Pacifico, Ketel One and...

well, actually that's about it.

A last visit.

Boston:

Renowned for a tea party, a strangler and a bar called Cheers this place reeks of history.  The architecture is detailed and old, complete with turrets, broad streets and sculpture scattered across the city.  Beantown is home to Berklee University, Boston University and with Harvard University just around the corner it has the feel of turning pages to me, of Good Will Hunting and Boston Legal. 

It feels like the most European city I've visited in the States.  Have you ever watched any movies about the Boston Strangler?  Think back on the setting: it's not a set.  Parts of Boston still look like that today, exquisite in the denseness of history it carries.  

I'm sitting in a dive bar called TC's round the corner from where I'm staying.  Two guys wearing business suits are shooting the crap out of buffalo running across an African-themed screen whilst their girlfriends feed the jukebox coins.  I suck back a vodka-soda and ponder where I will be this time next week, how I might feel and if I might stand aghast at how quickly this journey has ground to an end.  Who will I be when I go back to my homeland?  It is the partial loss of identity that makes traveling such a thrill: you're no one's daughter, lover or friend.  You are only a traveler. 

Right now I feel a bit of what Earl is feeling: the knowledge of impending ending and the high that comes with it.  I savor every moment of it, gently scooping it up in my hands for a second before releasing it up into the sky.

Am I the girl sitting and writing in a bar in Boston Universe?  Or am I a little girl who has fallen asleep in her sister's lap on the lawn outside, having played with her kitten Dina.

Am I about to wake up?

Observations of SA after 5 and a half months away from home.

1.  I always thought that South Africa was a really big place.... Bwahahahahahaha.
2. South Africans are rather serious about life/the weather et al.
3. We live in a third world country but I was brought up as a first world citizen. 
4. Living in a third world country means that we have tremendous poverty.  It's not found in all other parts of the world.
5. South Africa has one of the highest crime rates in the world. (Google it.)
6. South Africa has one of the highest murder rates in the world. (ditto.)
7. South Africans are afraid of one another.  We spend alot of time and energy on making sure that we are all nice and seperate.
8. South Africa has a tremendous shortage of policeman and traffic officers, and the ones that we have don't get paid enough and alot of them are corrupt or traumatised by their job.
9. South Africans drive like assholes.
10. There is no place like Africa, no matter how you slice it.
11. It's going to take a couple of generations for SA to get over the pain and anger that comes with our history.
12. White South Africans are holding on to their identity for dear life.  It's time consuming and takes alot of energy.  I'm one of them.
13. There is no other place in the world that could possibly compare with SA.  It's a unique place filled with wonderful people.  It's a country on the cusp of something big.

Thank you notes.

1. To Jana and Patrick Leddy.  For fetching me on arrival, giving me the best orientation I could have hoped for and being relentlessly worried about it me.  For the couch, the food, the tv, the computer.  For the love.
2. To Thain.  For making me a key and being excited about my visit.  I'm sorry for any pain caused, I wish you the best and hope you get to visit Africa soon.  I know you miss your family.
3. To Earl Dax.  For offering to take me on as an apprentice.
4. To Patrick O Rourke who was my first host who didn't know me from a bar of soap.  For your deep generosity and offers for me to go back to Blue Deer.  Apologies again for the mix-up with the you know what.  I believe it's all sorted though.  Call me when you're in SA, my khaya is your khaya.
5. To Randy (and Linda in her absence) for showing me Bal-di-mor.  For teaching me that a bathroom has a sheer, a toh-let and a zinc in it.  For teaching me all about the wonders of Pho. For letting me stay in your beautiful house and generally being an awesome guy.
6. To Randy's cousin who's name I can't remember!  For taking me back to New Jersey and letting me sleep over.  For kicking her poor daughter out of her room so I could sleep like a queen.  For taking me all the way to the train station the next morning and for eating those enchilada's at that taqueria down the road.  It was an experience.
7. To Temma for showing me more mosquitoes than I've ever seen, for taking me in off the street, for beer and chats in the pool and being a wonderful host.  I will never forget you.
8. To Belladonna for letting me stay over.  I know it ended badly but I really appreciate everything you did for me.  I hope we're all good, I hope pregnancy finds you.
9. To the Sacred Fire Community for making me feel like I was part of something, for allowing me to see someone channel the spirit of Fire, and taking me to the coast of Oregon. 
10. To Rowan.  When I saw you it was like we were right back at school and no time had passed.  For picking me up at the train station in a porche, the quiz, the restaurants and making me feel rather royal for a bit.
11. To Dalia Burdy and Emily Gordon. For being the nicest, sweetest, loveliest gals in the world. For taking me to the yoga chanting session, feeding me much steak, taking me camping in Big Sur, introducing me to all your friends, preparing me properly for Burning Man and just for being you.  Can't wait to see you in Cape Town!
12. To Yuko,Dylan and everyone else at the hostel in SF. For making my time there electric and even sometimes fun.  I often think of both of you and wonder what's happening with you guys.  I hope you're still an item.
13. To Thomas.  For arriving when I really needed him to.  For listening to me ramble.  For calling me when I had a bad case of the lonelies.
14. To Andre.  For making me feel like I had come home even though I was in a foreign place.  For the braais, the South Africans, the loooong talks about life, the universe and everything, for educating me about golf and helping me to understand that it's the way to enlightenment.  Can't wait to see you in SA!
15. To Frances.  For giving me new insights as to the origins of my friend Roxanne, for giving me a room, the space to do my own thing, for naked swimming in the pool, food and friendship.  For the biggest coat the world has ever seen, socks, a warm hat and for dragging me off to buy shoes even when I didn't feel like it.  It was a worthwhile trip.  I hope you get a job that will take you to Cape Town to see the offspring.
16. To Vickee.  For picking up a stranger on a train and taking them home.  For showing me the most beautiful little town in all of texas.  For repeatedly inviting me back.  For being one of the the kindest people I've ever met.  I sincerely hope that your mother's painting is beautiful.
17. To Glen and Leana.  For going way beyond the call of duty to ensure that I had a clear idea of just how awesome Marfa really is.
18. To Steve. For calling me Jumanji and showing me that Father Christmas is alive and well.
19. To Earl.  For being a teacher.
20. To my sister Roz.  For really understanding the meaning of Family.
21. To Rox.  For being my skype slag and promising to make me a platinum blonde.
22. To Werner.  For being my skype slag and giving me something to hold on to.
23. To Marleen.  For being my skype slag and giving me hope.
24. To Mia, Anti, Anthony and Fiona who sent references when I needed them to.
25. To Pieter, for helping out with technical details on this site when I needed him to.
26. To anyone I might have forgotten to mention. 
27. To all the Americans I met on my travels.  Thank you for being kind, engaging me, and generally being unoffensive.  You okes are awesome.
28. To Andre en Els.  For being catalysts.  For being amazing role models.  For shitting on Standard Bank.  For looking for a car.  For supporting me on this project, and for always accepting me and my crazy ideas, even when I'm sure that they won't.  I couldn't have done this without you.
29. And to you, the reader, without whom this journey would have felt empty and meaningless.  Thankyou for coming with me on the ride.

Big love to all of you,
Alice

Travel tip #3

An eye mask and earplugs are your best friends when hosteling across America.

Don't say I didn't tell you so.

Alice's observations of America after 5 and a half months of traversing it.

1. It's the most humungous place you could possibly imagine.  It's huge.  To traverse all of the States would take me 2 years to do.
2. You can't consider Americans in the same breath.  They're all wildly different.
3. A South African township and an American township are two totally different things.  On explaining to Americans what a SA township is their faces go white and their teeth drop out.
4. You are defacing the neighbourhood if you put a fence around your property in most of the States that I visited. 
5. Consequently puppies live indoors and dog-walking is a big business.
6. You need headshots to be a waitress in LA.
7. Americans like eating red liquorice.  Yuck.
8. The quality of their clothes and shoes are waaaay better than ours.  We live in sacks compared to these people.
9. Most Americans seem to have the perception that it's cheaper to live on take-out than it is to buy food at the grocery store.  Thusly you can find a take-out place about every 3 feet, no matter where you are.
10. Burger King sucks even more than Mcd's.
11. The best burgers and milkshakes I had in the States was at "In and out" a burger chain only found in California.  Go there.  Have a vanilla milkshake.
12. Americans everywhere have an obsession with coffee and tea, and iced coffee and iced tea.  It's like a weird fashion statement if you walk around with your deluxe coffee grande skinny latte what-what.  This country runs on caffeine and the easiest way to overthrow them and take over would be to deprive them of their caffeine fix.
13. Although Americans speak English it might as well have been called by some other strange name.  Often words have different meanings and I had people laughing in my face and then calling their friends over and saying: "Ok, now say that again..."   An example of this would be the first time I enquired as to where I might find the loo.
14. Drawers are in a cupboard and are definitely not pants, the bill is only the cheque and nothing else, scones are biscuits and robots are lights.  A handbag is a pocket book and an sms is just plain a text.  Just the ones to jump to mind.
15. People in America generally obey the law.  They wait for the little green man to flicker before they cross the street (except in NY and Boston) and stick to the speed limit.
16. Americans drive a whole lot better than South Africans.  It's unfortunate that they do it on the wrong side of the road.
17. Most Americans that I met were completely fearless and for the most part blissfully ignorant about the rest of the world.  A wild generalisation, I know.
18. Most Americans are seekers.  They are looking for spiritual experiences and they're very open to hearing other people's point of view.
19. In all the towns I visited I was able to walk back to the hostel (located in the heart of the inner city) late at night, on my own, without being in danger.
20. The west coast of America is incredibly forward-thinking.  Everyone recycles, rides their bikes and worries deeply about the environment.
21. Having tattoos in the US in most States is common place.
22. I've never seen as many tattooed people as in Seattle.  Even the old ladies have chest pieces that they are still showing off.
23. Americans don't have many enemies and have therefor created some of their own.  Germs top the list.  They are totally obsessed with them.  You don't understand. OBSESSED.
24. Medical aid costs an absolute fortune and there is a huge ongoing debate about healthcare in the States.  In the meanwhile the healthcare industry is making a killing off inducing the fear into people.  It's like you're going to die if you don't go for that flu shot.
25. Thanksgiving is a more important holiday than Christmas.  It's the time of year that the whole family gets together, they eat turkey and open the house to whoever wants to come over.  Personally I think it's a damn fine idea, thanksgiving.
26. Out of all the cities I've visited I like Boston the most.  The last place I got to, the place I almost missed.  Heck.
27. They eat pizza slices like we eat pies.  The best pizza I tasted was in New York City.
28. There's no such thing as a tot measurement in the States.  If you ask for a tot of whiskey, expect to get a glass.  I love that about them.
29. If you're a woman living in California, it's generally considered uncool to look excited about anything, or to smile.
30. The most beautiful beach I've ever seen was in California. The widest, whitest beach you could possibly imagine.
31. A number of people warned me not to go into the water though.  It's toxic.
32. Texas looks like the Karoo.  The people who live there are just like the folk in Bloemfontein.
33. The largest concentration of South Africans living in the States live in San Diego because the climate is almost exactly the same.
34. There are alot of South Africans living in the US.  It felt surreal meeting so many of my country folk in another country, and although many of them are happy to be here, the majority of them, when pushed, admitted that they dreamt of someday going home and it made me sad to realise that to some extent, no matter how many years they had spent abroad, they were still foreigners in a foreign land.
35. If you visit a bar most people just take out a wad of cash and leave it on the bar.  The barman will take what he/she needs as the night goes on.  In the meanwhile you can go off to the toilet and have a dance and apparently your cash will still be there when you get back.
36. They have toilets that flush themselves and doors that open automatically but in most places you clean your own table and get your sugar and milk from a table in the corner.
37. There are over 100 different types of banking institutions in America.  They compete with each other and consequently they smile when you walk into the bank, give you bank cards even though you're a foreigner and generally deliver on their promises.  (Read: we get ripped off by banks in SA.)
38. Americans have a great culture of accountability that I wish we could adapt in SA.  There's a website called yelp.com where you can make comments on shops and services in any city in the US, and consequently it's easy to compare hairdressers/restaurants etc.
39. They have competitive advertising, meaning that the competing product will often be mentioned in ads, and it will be shown why the product is inferior to the one being advertised.
40. Politicians also make commercials that will highlight the corruption of their competitor, or will show that they didn't live up to the  promises that they made the public.
41. Ofcourse, the natural extension of the above mentioned is that Americans also love to sue each other. 
42. You get jewish neighbourhoods, chinese neighbourhoods, polish, korean, irish, russian, italian, south african, but there aren't alot of Indians who live in the States.  Maybe I just didn't see them.
43. Most American places and streets feature Native American names.  In actuality I saw 3 actual Native Americans. 
44. The Native Americans that managed to survive and get their land back have now opened casino's on it.  Most casino's in the US are run by Native Americans. 
45. Cancer is huge.  All kinds.  There's no doubt in my mind that it's because they live on friggin take-out.
46. Alot of Americans still smoke.  In NY there are people smoking cigars in the street.
47. Pharmaceutical companies can advertise their products and so you often find yourself watching commercials advertising anti-depressants etc. except that the list of side-effects that they have to mention by law on the ad takes longer than listing the pro's.  Completely surreal to watch.
48. Americans all come from different backgrounds but they all have one thing in common that brings them all together: they are all immigrants who have come here in search of freedom and a better life.

That's it in a nutshell.  I wish I could have seen more and stayed longer.  I probably learnt more about myself in the time that I was here that I learnt about America.

Hmmm.

Read it.

Read the directions and directly you

will be directed in the right direction
                                                                    - the doorknob

Take that.

Standard Bank can stick it up their bums.

Most mornings start off with me sending hate mail to various different people and departments at said establishment.  My insults seem to have improved over the last couple of days as my pms has crescendoed, but it still hasn't had the desired affect.  They're cold and unresponsive, a familiar theme for them.  It's part of their business plan you see.  And I am just a number.

When I'm not busy sending them insulting letters I like to spend my time imagining their building going up in flames, that sort of thing.  Thoughts of destruction have definitely been present. 

And then, finally, when that wears off I worry about going back to SA, starting over, whatever might wait in my future.  (I'm thinking tall, dark and handsome.) I look for cars on gumtree  and sneak a peak at apartments and their rates. This is limbo: I'm dangling somewhere in the middle of two places, waiting for things to give and move.

In order to save myself from over-thinking my future I've made a small loan from me cousin and decided to hit the road one last time on Sunday.  Hell, it's not like I'm going to get another chance to visit Boston anytime soon.  I'll be there till Wednesday at which point I'll head back to NYC to spend Thanksgiving with Jana and Pat.  Friday morning at 10h30 I jump a plane to Jozi.

My fear of flying doesn't seem to wear down and I'm going to have to come up with just the right coctail of tranquilizers to get me through 18 hours on a plane.  Flying will definitely be more bearable if the plane is empty and spacious.

If not the person sitting next to me will need their own stash of tranqs in order to deal with me.

I'm not sharing.

Moving. Shaking.

I'm moving to Stellenbosch! 

My parents own a flat there that's been on the property market for a couple of months and consequently they've graciously offered it to me till I find something else that's suitable and get my business off the ground.  Hold thumbs no one buys.

My entire family have moved to Cape Town from Jozi over the last couple of years, so both my siblings and their spawn now inhabit homes in Stellenbosch.  I anticipate being a real aunt for the first time in my life and spending time with all of them kidsez.

Moving to Stellenbosch actually seems like the logical next move since I've covered all the other parts of Cape Town.  In the 16 years I've been a Capetonian I've lived in

• Vredehoek
• Gardens
• Tamboerskloof
• Rondebosch
• Woodstock
• Observatory
• Wynberg
• Muizenberg
• Blouberg/Big Bay

I try to keep things interesting.

Friends of mine used to stay in the most beautiful block of flats right on the river in Stellies, with lawns and trees outside.  It was pretty central yet if you drove in there it felt rural.  I would love to stay there.

So it's official.  That's where I'll be landing.  A clean slate.

And I'm excited abaht it.

Listen:

True love will find you in the end

You'll find out just who was your friend
Don’t be sad, I know you will,
But don’t give up until
True love finds you in the end.


This is a promise with a catch
Only if you're looking will it find you
‘Cause true love is searching too
But how can it recognize you
Unless you step out into the light?
But don’t give up until
True love finds you in the end
True love finds you in the end
True love finds you in the end


- As sung by Beck: a tribute to Daniel Johnston

Indeed.

Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.
                                                                                                     - The Duchess

One or two.

This here is a think about whether or not it would be better for you to travel alone in the States or to hook up with someone before you arrive.  Let me spill.

The pros of traveling alone:

• You don't have to put up with anyone else.  Ever.
• You can change your mind whenever you feel like it.
• You don't need to check if whatever you're doing is say hurting anyone's feelings.
• You decide when you come and go, how you do it and for how long.  Bliss.
• A case can also be made to assert that it's easier meeting strangers when you're on your own than when you're traveling with say your boyfriend.  However, if you're two hot babes on the road I'm sure you won't have any trouble hooking up with the closest set of horny males in the vacinity.  Which has a pros and cons list all of its own.

The cons of traveling alone:

• No one to take the damn picture.
• No one to tap on the shoulder and say: "Wow!  Did you see that?  Was that for real?!"
• No one to cuddle up with when you need to.
• I figure blogging can satisfy most of these things though.  Except for taking the pic, cuddling and talking back. 

The pros of traveling with someone:

• You can get more for less: hire/buy a car, stay in nicer places, have a private room to share which means you won't need to deal with Russians or the Irish.  But it can be fun to deal with both.

The cons:

• You have a huge fight on day 3 of your 6 month odyssey and then hate each other for the rest of the trip.  Hey, it could happen.
• The person you're with meets the love of their life on day 5 and deserts you.  Heck, it didn't happen to me but apparently it does.  Speaking in general though, if you are planning on traveling around you can forget about having relationships.  You won't be around for long enough to have one.  If one night stands are your cup of tea, hold on baby cos your about to hit the jackpot.

Bottom line is I'm glad I came on my own.  It made me stronger, built some character and every time someone said:  "Really?  You're traveling alone??"  I felt like Crocodile Dundee or Spiderman. 

The favorite moment of my trip was when I got of at El Paso, decided it was a shit hole and could just turn around and get back on the train without any kind of scene.  I just changed my mind and didn't need to check it with anyone.  Life can be sweet people.

I needed this time by myself.  Everything was heightened because I wasn't in any kind of comfort zone ever and thusly I have slideshows in my head of where I've been and what I did and it will stay up there forever.

To me that's true value for money.

Travel tip #95

Blogging saved my life.

Look, no normal human being can go for this amount of time without having some kind of reason to live.  You have to feel like you're contributing something to the world to feel good about yourself.  My reason became blogging.  It was my job to blog and I flippin loved it.  It also made sense to do instead of sending out 16 different letters to all the people who want to know what you're up to.

If there's one thing I've really gained from this experience it was to reconnect with people through writing and it's been an absolute pleasure.

Thanks to you for reading, it gave meaning to my trip.

Big love to all of you,

Alice.

Travel Tip #68

On arrival I bought this honey of a netbook to travel with and although I was a bit hesitant about spending the cashola initially it ended up being the best move I could have made.  The sticker is from Sacramento I think.  What can I say.

You can't tell in this here picture but it's one of those tiny little laptops that are light and easy to cart around.  I was a bit concerned about whether or not I would be able to access free Wifi wherever I was going but I needn't have worried.  Every single one of the hostels I stayed in had it, and even my hosts had wireless internet connections.  Thusly it was so easy to connect with you okes!

I paid $299 for the netbook and it was worth every cent.  Also still cheaper to buy here than in SA.

Man I'm going to miss fast wireless internet with no cap when I'm home...

The US of A.

Agge nee mense,

My trip is almost over!  With about 10 days left and $120 to my name (thanks again Standard Bank) there isn't a whole lot more to do than catch up on cable and do some planning for my imminent arrival back in the most beautiful city in the world, Cape Town. 

On Sunday both cousin Jana and her hubby were off and we went running round the city doing the tourist thang.  Staten Iland ferry, a walk over the Brooklyn bridge, some pumpkin beer in honor of the Halloween past.  I'm a tourist now traveling with family, no longer an adventurer with unlimited opportunity, and the realisation saddens me only the tiniest bit.  I'm going to miss this place. 

What an amazing country.  There is no way that you can speak of it all in the same breath, all the States differ hugely in culture and environment.  California was by far the closest to SA which clarifies why the largest collection of South Africans can also be found there.  The east coast is more alien, maybe European, with its forests, deer, bunnies, fireflies.  Texas is a country on its own and the deep South... oh, the deep South!

There is so much I still wanted to see and do and if I knew then what I know now, I would've done things a little differently.  So here's some tips:

Travel tip #86

On arrival in America, buy a car or find out about longterm rentals.  Make sure that you're with someone else who will help to remind you that in terms of turning a "righty is a tighty and a lefty is a widey".  The driving on the wrong side of the road deal completely did my head in.

If you decide to do what I did, which is to travel by train across America, know that it will restrict your movements severely.  On the upside, taking the train is mostly pretty relaxing, their seats are huge, there's a food cart, you can walk around and meet interesting (or scary) people and you can do a lot of sightseeing from the comfort of your chair.  All and all, not a bad deal either.

Travel tip #94

Of all the travel guides I encountered on my travels "Lonely Planet" seems to be by far the best in my estimation.  If I had one from the beginning of my trip, I might have planned things slightly better.  A worthwhile buy that will help you to get to the best parts of whichever city you find yourself in in an instant.

Travel tip #38

If you are planning on doing what I did, meaning that you're just going to throw yourself out there and take it as it comes making as little plans as possible, know that it's going to work out more expensive in the end.  Also, it's all good and fine to wing it, but it does help to know what the top 5 places or sites are that you definitely want to see whilst you're there.  An outline won't restrict you, but it might give you a bit more direction than I had and after awhile you kind of crave it.

If you've been thinking about coming to America, just do it.  It's soooo huge, there's soooo much to see that you can't go wrong and if you find yourself in a place that you're not very fond of, you can always get back on the train/back in your car and head on over to the next city or town.  Easy as cheese.

I feel truly blessed to have been here.

The hole.

The thing with falling down a rabbit hole is that there's nothing to hold onto. No brakes, no pause button and once you get going there's no turning around. 

This sensation has its pros and cons.  Sometimes its free-falling, just letting go and trusting what will happen, but if you're planning on doing it sometime soon here's travel tip #92: it helps to have a companion on your way down the hole, a teddybear maybe or some other familiar face. 

When I fell down the hole I didn't know this ofcourse. I found out the hard way.  I needed to grab onto something familiar, something to make me feel safe in the dark.  I've always been afraid when the lights went out.  So: there I am, falling down a hole, and suddenly I see it just off to the side, drifting about and screaming my name.  It's my previous relationship, the one I thought I 'd left behind but it's there in the hole with me, waving its arms.  At least that's what I think it's doing and heck you don't have to ask me twice.  I grab at it and hold on. 

We become best friends, even better than me and Cellini Euroline.  I hide it from other people but I nurse it in private.  I nurse my dead relationship.  I prop it up in a chair across from me and pretend that it's alive.  We have tea together and although my relationship doesn't have a whole lot to say at the beginning it becomes increasingly talkative as time goes by.  It seems that maybe I'm not the only one who feels the need to hold on.

I go to my dead relationships facebook page sometimes 3 times a day and analyse it like the Bible.  It's the only face it has now and I unravel it like poetry.  It becomes my Oracle.  Me in a hole, reading its face, learning its language, searching for clues.  I feed it scraps of my life and tend to it in my sleep, and as time goes by I come to believe that my dead relationship is coming back to life, that it's growing when in fact it's bloating with decay.

We play Reunion over and over again.  It's my favorite game.  I dress him up and paint on eyes and a mouth.  My art project, my favorite passtime.  He waits for me in a public place, wearing his best suit and a nervous smile.  I walk in, we hug and his smell curls up my nostrils like a meal I haven't had in years.  He kisses me deeply and I suddenly remember the taste of his lips, because somewhere along my journey I forgot and I've been trying to remember for months.

Down the hole I find myself again and again bumping up against this body floating with me in the dark.  We waltz in the loneliness.  We play dress up and pretend. 
 
One day I prop my dead relationship up and tell it that the wait is almost over. I'm coming home baby, and then we can put all of this behind us. But my dead relationship is silent. It's Facebook face blinks quietly back at me and I search for answers on a shiny screen. A deleted post on its wall where we sent each other a (x) at the end of mutual messages. An Iheart to another woman and she sends one back. I die when I read it, and slowly fade on the lights. 

My imaginary friend, it turns out, is dead, a grotesque parody of it's former self.  A ghost.  A construct of my mind. 

Today I buried him deep in the ground like a ship sunk to the bottom of the sea.  I made a coffin out of my memories and wrapped him in my hopes.  Before I closed the lid I put a teddy in beside him.

Dear dead relationship,
I dragged your body clean across America.  I was your witness, keeper and your breath of life.  The only attendee at a small backyard funeral. I cried when you went down and proudly sang a song we used to play late at night in cheap hostels when we were scared,

and my song rang out like a shot in the dark. 



 

Again and again.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

Enter New York City.  I've come full circle, having arrived back in Great Neck afer a 31 hour train ride from Nah'wlins.  Walking down the street this morning people avoid eye contact, shove you aside even.  This is a dog-eats-dog world.  The weather in NY is miserable, the remnants of Hurricane Ida having followed me up here on the train.

I'll be spending exactly 2 weeks here before heading home, landing in Cape Town on Saturday 28 November.  Am I happy about it?  Sure.  Am I sad to be leaving?  Totally.  Somehow I think it's all only going to hit me when I get back home though.

I still hope to retrieve my $610 sometime next week, and if I do I will go to Boston for a day or two, maybe a bit further up depending on how much time is left. 

It turns out the Thursday before I leave is Thanksgiving. Cuz and I will be heading to the City to see the biggest parade in the world, The Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, after which we'll head home to drink litres of wine, have one last laugh with the neighbours, slice up a turkey and wrap it all up.  Then a plane.  Then Africa.

Om mani padme hum.

At the hostel in New Orleans I meet a guy called Earl. “Like the tv show,” I joke and he laughs. I introduce myself and we shake hands. He's in his early forties by the looks of it: dark hair, dark eyes, maybe there's a drop or 2 of Irish in him, I decide.

He offers me one of his beers and as he passes it to me I read the tattoos on his knuckles: DEAD HEAD, it says. There's a handprint tattooed in his neck and something else on the other side but I can't figure out what it is. Lower down a strange tree is etched on his leg that looks like it's been drawn by a child, awkward and scew, and the outline of more ink peeps out from beneath his shirt.


Mother always said never to date a man with words tatooed on his knuckles but this guy is as sweet as cheesecake. He picks up on the fact that I don't feel a %100 comfortable there and he keeps a special eye out for me.  He makes a point of checking in, asking me where I've been and how I am.  When he speaks to anyone, I notice, they have his undevided attention. There's respect in his voice.  He's not just speaking to a person, but to a human being.


The night before I leave I sit outside with him and the alcoholic from New Zealand who's come to visit NO and India House 7 times before.  “… and they wanted to take out both,” I catch Earl saying as I sit down.
“What did they want to take out?” I ask, chugging back beer.
“My kidneys,” it comes, his hand combing through his hair. I swallow hard. “It's the cancer.  Doctors gave me 3 months to live,” he says, drinking down the rest of something that resembles cough medicine. “I wasn’t going to hang around for that shit."


Turns out Earl's come here to party the last 3 months of his life away. At the rate he’s drinking he might only have a day or two left though, I imagine.  Hell if that's what he wants to do, eez all good.  Here's the crunch though: If I ignore the booze there is something radiant about this man. He’s full of joy. There’s no other way of saying it: this man is 100% alive.


“I’m going to have to head out again soon,” he says later. “You know when a dog leaves the pack and then goes into the woods to die? That’s me. Left my family the day after I heard. Said goodbye to my boys and the ex-wife and headed out, I don’t want to be treated like no invalid in the last months of my life. My dad filed a missing person's report, I saw my picture on the Net.  It’s funny what happens you know, because now I’ve been here for 6 weeks, I got myself family again. Think I’m going to be heading out to the treehouse hostel in Georgia next,” he said, sinking the rest of the pink liquid in his cup. I wonder how many more hostels he would have the time to stay in. Maybe not too many more than myself.


I'm fascinated by him.  Not only that, the depression that's been following me around the last couple of days instantly disappears.  I want what this man has: freedom.  The reality of his own mortality has changed his expectations of himself and the world forever.  His expectations of life have fallen away, and therefor, in my estimation, he’s become free. Through his dying he's come to life. 


On the train leaving New Orleans I listen to Ram Dass recordings and he talks about the clinging of the mind being the cause of suffering (Buddhism 101). Oi, has my mind been clinging over the last couple of months! I may have left SA physically but my mind kept me there and to some degree I just couldn’t ever completely let go.  I was worried about what I could expect when I went back, wondering if I would have changed, if the place I'd left would have changed.  I expected my trip to bring me clarity about just about everything I've ever wondered about.  I expected it to fix me.


Expectations.  It's a global killer, more so than the cancer that's got Earl to wake up to life.  It's the reason why most of us can never seem to just be in the moment.  It fogs our minds and blinds us to the truth.  It's the thing that will make us look back on our lives one day and think: I wish I didn't worry so much!  I should have just enjoyed my time doing this or that instead of being so concerned with that other thing.


You could be living on an island in Hawaii and be married to the most beautiful person in the world and still commit suicide because your expectations of what it was going to be like wasn't met.  You don't have to be poor/disabled/bankrupt/in jail to be disappointed, oh no.  We all have The Sads behind closed doors.  Our projections of what a thing should be and what they actually are rarely match up, and still we spend all our time projecting out, never really being just open to receiving whatever is. 


We imagine that if we have that one thing: the winning lottery numbers, the right guy or girl, if we live on a tropical island or shed 10kgs, if people would just respect us for a change, that everything will change.  We expect our parents to love us, our children to obey us and the world to notice us, and when they don't sometimes the pain is too much to bare. 


For a long time I thought freedom was the thing that you had when you didn't have to worry about money or work.  Freedom just simply meant that you had options, enough not to feel like you had to do anything.  Eisj, what a lie.


I believe I can say that I experienced freedom once, but it wasn't on this trip. 


I was living in a block of flats across the street from the Gardens Centre in Cape Town, a beautiful 2 bedroom with wooden floors and rent control and I was working mostly as a Sangoma and doing readings from the flat. Also dabbling in some wardrobe assisting on film and tv sets which brought in oodles of cash but killed my desire to live and be functional.


One day I was returning home in my car. I remember driving down Roeland Street and turning up towards my block and when I was about 2 blocks away from my house it happened.


I woke up.  For about half a minute it felt like a thick veil lifted off of me and I became acutely aware of the absolute miracle it took for me to find myself there, in my car, on that day, driving home.  The amount of stars that erupted, the eons of cooling, heating, erupting, mating it took for me to be here, in my car, at exactly that moment, driving down Roeland Street.  It would never ever transpire again with this specific detail.  My hair would never fall in the same way, I would never feel the way I do.  It was, in every respect of the word, an absolute and complete once off experience. And for just a couple of seconds I lifted out of the mud to witness the extraodinary privilege of Being. Om mani padme hum.  The moment that I realised what was happening the veil melted back over my face and it was over, but it's never fit as well as it did before that day.  That glimpse of freedom, of a life lived without expecations will inspire me forever.


I still live my life by expectations.  Literally, I'm caught up in it.  My expectations of myself, my idea of other people's expectations for me, my narrow conception of reality and what it means, my pre-conceived ideas about who I am, what I am and what it is that gives meaning to my life.  What am I going to do when I get back to Cape Town?  How will I survive?  Will my trip be good enough for everybody else, like toting a bag or a new Christmas present.  Will it be good enough for me.


If there's one thing Americans have taught me it's not too think too much before acting.  Don't sensor myself so much, just trust what comes and believe in my own spirit and for that I'm very grateful.


In my own way I occasionally take stock of my life by getting out of my comfort zone: I go on an adventure, on a meditation retreat for 10 days, a vision quest, or sit with myself in nature.  Sometimes I even go overseas.  All these things help me to see if I still fit into the world.  It hurts like hell but dang it pays off big when I'm done. 


Earl gave me a big hug the night before I left.  He wanted to be sure to say goodbye to me and was very clear that he'd been happy to have met me, that it meant something to him.  He was drunk out of his mind but impeccable in his spirit.  That man showed me the joy of letting go, and so in my own little way I let the rope slip between my fingers a little today.  I feel a little bit of freedom.

I fall down the rabbit hole.

“In our sleep, pain which we cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”             - Aeschilus, The Orestea

The score:

Bank = 1                                  Alice = 0

You win Standard Bank. 
I'll be hopping a train tomorrow morning at 7am and heading for NYC, arriving Thursday round 4pm in Long Island and staying at me cousin Jana's place.  I missed those crazy guys.

Hope to fly back to SA at the end of this month, depending on what I can get and how much it will cost.  In truth I now have about $200 to last me till I go.  That's not a lot of moola, especially not in NYC.  Yup, this is the grand ending.

I will be out of touch till I chug into Long Island.

Go well okes, see you on the flipside,

Alice

It' coming.

Hurricane Ida is on her way.

I have booked into the Hostel for 2 more nights and rain is forecast on both.  A tropical storm they said.  Then a hurricane was anounced.  Still, it sounds like heavy rain only and no one seems to be too worried.  If there was real trouble coming these people would be packing up and flying to Idaho before you could say pineapple.

Round 2 with Standard Bank is on and is a longer and more drawn out battle than the first.  They feel they should wait 40 days to see if they really have overcharged me or not.  Meanwhile I'm missing $500 and they're not really concerned.  Consequently chances are good that I'll be taking the Amtrak train from New Orleans back up to New York City this Wednesday @ 7am and arriving at Penn Station on Thursday @ 2pm.

Acceptance is starting to dawn, the inevitability of it all.  No matter how much I want to stay I really can't and I found myself wandering around the French Quarter today with a smile on my face, taking it all in, appreciating every second.
 
It's still summer in Cape Town, it's even December.  I haven't changed my flight yet but at this rate I'll be back by the end of November or beginning of December.  I'll be in time for the yearly Obz fest, for Christmas and New Year, the beach and the sea.  A chance to start over, whatever that may mean to me by the time I get there.

It really doesn't matter anymore. 

Narcissistic Nola.

New Orleans (Nola) is the lover you keep planning on leaving but never do.  The one you were addicted to in your twenties, the one you never got over.

It's a shifting place.  In the last 300 years it's seen 2 major fires and a hurricane come through here.  It's a ruthless lover.  It changes without notice. 

People seem to release here like they do when they're in love, opening up and letting go of their pretenses and inhibitions.  They dance and play the blues.  They have big jazzy funerals for the dead with processions in the streets. 

The dead can't be buried in the ground.  This place is below sea level and coffins push back up out of the earth, demanding to be part of society.  Instead they are buried in family tombs above ground, the first deceased being shovelled to the back after a year and a day to make space for the second.

These are the low lands, an easy mingle with the underworld, I'm sure the devil himself owns some property around here.

Be careful you who tread, treat Nola with respect.  Watch her diligently and listen when she talks.

She's not into repetition.

Travel tip #52

When traveling to the States, get yourself some travelers cheques.
Bring um on over and the first thing you do when you arrive is to open an American Bank account which you deposit all those handy travelers cheques into.

Never, ever get a travelwallet from Standard Bank.

They sold it to me saying that it would be the cheapest and most convenient way for me to access my money, but they lied.  Every single time you draw money you get charged between $2 - $4, even if you end up not drawing any money.  Then, when you least expect it, money disappears out of your account and you realise they've charged you for transactions you never made.  Then, after you resolve this issue with them, THEY DO IT AGAIN.  Only this time they say that it will take 40 days for them to figure out what went wrong.

I might be home sooner than you think people.

Hmmm

Standard Bank has lost my cash.  Again.  It now qualifies as stealing. 

Subsequently I couldn't sleep at all last night and then did something bad to my ankle when I jumped off the top bunk in the middle of the night to go to the loo.

When I got back into bed I stretched and heard an ominous click in my back.  Since then my whole shoulder has gone into traction and I can barely move my head this morning.

In other news my gums are rotting away because I haven't gone to see my trusty periodontist to tend to their upkeep in the 5 months I've been here.  I wake up every morning with the most horrid taste in my mouth and seeing a dentist in the US is not even a consideration.  Me?  Self pity?  Nooooo.

It seems the process of preparing to return has kicked in then.

The Garden.

Next to the different wards that make up New Orleans and the French Quarter you find the Garden District, also known as the American portion of the city.  I've never seen anything as plush and extroadinary ever in my life.  The houses are unlike anything you could dream of. 

I want to live in this place.  After just one day here it's clear to me why New Orleans has been ranked no 1 in America's Travel & Leisure article "America's favorite cities" in more categories than any other city in the States  Here is the local Garden District Roman Catholic school:

And a couple of small getaways in the same area:

Ghost town.

New Orleans is a placed wedged between two worlds.

Before my tour of the city this morning I instinctively reach for my protective bead necklace but decide instead that they clash with my outfit and leave them behind.  Deep, I know.  It's a clumsy mistake on my part.  In Africa we say that the Ancestors live in the water.  Thusly most traditional Africans still are loathe to swim in streams, rivers or the sea.  There's no doubt in my mind that they would also stay well clear of the swamp lands, where trees grow both above and beyond the waterline.  There is little distinction in this town between the living and the dead.

Louisiana is the most haunted state in the US and not surprisingly so.  It's old and steeped in water.  It was home to Marie Leveau, the famed Voodoo Queen who's grave gets the second highest amount of visitors in the States, beat only by Elvis.  Anne Rice's vampire novels are all famously set here and she herself lives in the city, having bought the insane asylum and turned it into her personal boudoir.

Katrina has ravaged this city.  Where there were more than 1 million people living here before the hurricane the numbers have dwindled down to about 370,000.  People have moved to neighbouring towns like Lafayette and have no intention of returning.  Who could blame them. 1,836 people died in the hurricane. They were warned before, even asked to evacuate, but they didn't.  80% of the city flooded and for about 10 days after the storm most of the city had no water or electricity.  Terrible things happened.

Our tour guide tells us that after the hurricane their house was still standing but they weren't allowed to return till 3 months later.  All the houses had to be searched for bodies, not necessarily belonging to the resident family but others having been washed away during the flooding.  She tells us about a fireman who discovered 13 bodies huddled together in the attic of a house a month later, hidden unsuccessfully from the ravages of the hurricane.  She tells us about the stench of the place.

I pick up on the pain in everything.  When we get off at the graveyard there is a notice posted by the SPCA.  They are looking for the man who shot a dog in the face.  The newspaper whispers about racial tensions, gangsterism.  New Orleans has one of the highest crime rates in the US.  The hostel's party atmosphere feels banal, even crass and I keep finding myself wanting to shhh people, like they should be more respectful of this place and its people.  I am quiet and withdrawn, standing (like New Orleans) with one foot on this continent and my other in Africa.

This town has a depth and detail to it that I've never encountered anywhere before, a strange hypnotic allure that I'm sure will draw people back here in time, back to this mystical place.  I find it totally enticing.

This house is an example of what the properties looked like in areas where flooding was minimal.

In the worst hit area, this is all that remains of the previous neighbourhood

Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are the most famous inhabitants of the French Quarter.  He started a foundation after the hurricane to start rebuilding these neighbourhoods and put up $5 million of his own money.  We saw about 5 houses that have been built by this program.  They are all made of recycled materials and completely green, using solar panels and even water from local wells.  These houses are really exquisitely beautiful and stand out as beacons of hope in an otherwise bleak surrounding area.  The flag outside the first house serve as memory to the two members of this household who were swept away and who's bodies were never recovered.