Getting Here and Being Here...

The view from Table Mountain

It was an interesting trip here to say the least. I hopped on the plane in San Francisco for the first leg to Atlanta and was seated in the emergency lane (extra leg room=sweet, middle seat=not so sweet). The girl to my right was clearly nursing a bad hangover and reeked of booze and the guy to my left was a weird military Raiders fan, also not very sweet. Once we took off the Raiders fan noticed that my hands were shaking and asked me to hand him my hand; I reluctantly handed my left one over and he proceeded to start giving me a massage, which was weird. Then, he commented on the fact that I was not wearing a wedding ring and quickly asked me to turn around so he could start working on my back and shoulder; of course I said “no”; at which point he grumpily put his headphones on and left me alone. Relieved, I did the same and started listening to my new favorite playlist that RJ made me. Moments later the hung over girl next to me started puking; luckily she made it into the barf bag.
Fast-forward four hours to Atlanta where we rushed to the plane that was taking us to Dakar (Senegal)…. The plane was completely full and as one of the last people to board I walked into a mad house. People were franticly trying to claim what little space there was left. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see someone attempt to stuff a live chicken into the overhead compartment. This flight had no individual TVs like the last flight and with both my laptop and mp3 player out of juice I started to anticipate a really horrible 22 hours ahead. I was determined not to cry, I didn’t want the guy next to me to think he was stuck next to a freak show; so I bit my tongue and let the tears drip down the back of my throat. Which, of course, made me go into a coughing fit, causing me to tear up. A lot of work for nothing, a typical job well done on my part. After reading two books and drinking a few free mini-bottles of wine, I was in Cape Town. At the stop in Senegal I was able to stick my arm out the back service door they were using to reload the food, so I could say I’ve been there, which I know is a stretch.
We were met at the airport by a group of learners (that’s what students are called here) who welcomed us with a song. Typically, something like this would make me start rolling my eyes, but it was really special and lacked anything artificial. I have video of it that I’ll post when my connection is better.
The next morning the same group of learners and the principal and founder of the LEAP schools picked us up. They took us to Table Mountain, which overlooks all of Cape Town. We took a cable car to the top and spent hours exploring and getting to know one another. Several times throughout our time up there the students would break out in song. It was explained to us that the mountain, among other places around Cape Town, were seen as places only for the whites; singing was their way of reclaiming these places as theirs as too. It was really interesting and unsettling to see the excitement of some and the clear disdain of others as the kids performed.
We ended the day with lunch on the beach below the mountain. We went and bought a huge thing of bread, drumsticks, cheese and fruit; which was delicious; it might have been because I was starving though.