Once again I am typing on a beautiful sunny day, even with a slight wind. We are anxiously awaiting the arrival of Meredith who, if I have not already said so, is spending a little over a week with us here in South Africa. Before we leave to pick her up from her brutal 29-hour trip, I thought I would give an update mostly about our last weekend with a few tangents thrown in.
In Port Elizabeth, the public transportation is ‘less than stellar’, as Gretchen would say. So, a brief lesson in economics: when there are inadequacies for a high demanded product (transportation), others will appear to fill the gap. In our case, the gap fillers are taxi drivers. There are two types of taxi drivers, one of which are what we are used to; cars with taxi signs on the roof.
The other type comes in the form of a flat rate service utilizing vans. One person drives while the other person leans their upper body out the back window shouting where the taxi is heading. This alone should raise some flags…below is a picture of one of these ‘taxis’:
Gretchen and I decided to go to a shopping mall that is not within walking distance. So, we were able to catch the bus to Green Acres shopping mall. Upon arrival, we were assured that the bus would be back around 5:30. We went in the mall, looked through the stores, bought some plastic glasses and decided to head back. Gretchen and I arrived early at the bus stop around 4:45. We asked a person working with the bus system if this was where we were to catch the bus heading back to Summerstrand (our lovely suburb). He did not know. It seems that it is a secret as to how often and where buses come from. After walking around the mall to different bus stations, piecing together information, we finally arrived at the correct station. Thankfully, we were there with a few minutes to spare and found some German students from Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University who were also heading back to Summerstrand. The four of us waited for 15 minutes, and, upon the realization that our bus was not coming, decided to try these infamous taxis. The German girls had used them before, so they were a Godsend.
The four of us got into the white van and we were off to a place where the taxis gather for transferring routes. Along the way, we picked up more and more passengers. Before I continue, please examine the taxi again; it is about the size of a minivan with an extra seat in the back. Okay, so by the time we pulled into the transfer area, there were 16 people in this van…quite a tight fit. These vans are also notorious for their lack of regard for other cars on the road. Their main goal is to get money, and as it is a flat rate, the quicker they transport, the more money they can obtain. Questionably yellow lights were ran, stop signs were rolled…all the time Gretchen and I nervously laughed to ourselves as we chatted with the German students.
To the taxi driver’s credit, we arrived safely home without any harm, and the rate was around three dollars total for both of us. That being said, it was quite an adventure!
That was a few weeks ago, and this past Saturday, a huge rugby game was to be played between the South African Spring Bokkes and the New Zealand All Blacks…. and me without a jersey. The only place to get a jersey was at a shopping mall such as Green Acres. So, on Friday, Gretchen and I decided to try our luck with the buses again. Everyone suggested we look to street corners where vendors sold goods from questionable sources at an extreme discount. We found the jersey, and the haggling ensued. Eventually, he agreed to around 157 Rand, or about $23.00 US. The price for one of these in a sports shop was 675 Rand (Close to $100.00 US). With my new jersey in hand, we perused the mall for a bit and were able to catch the bus back home. Mission a 100% success.
Saturday morning at 9:30 am, we went to a bar / restaurant called the News Café where patrons had already begun activities reminiscent of an Ohio State bar on game day. There were cheers for the good plays and attacks upon the referees (who apparently were garbage), some imbibing of fermented beverage took place and Gretchen and I were able to cheer our Spring Bokkes (pronounced with an in between long and short ‘o’) on to a tense victory despite the All Blacks wickedly strange dance. Afterwards, a man bought everyone in the bar drinks called Spring Bokkes (pronounced with a long ‘e’ sound at the end). Here is a picture of me in my jersey on our way home from the News Café:
Sunday we had a relaxing day lying on the beach, watching surfers. At any given time from 6 am until 6 pm, one can spot no less than 15 surfers ‘hanging ten’. Gretchen jokes about wondering whether people actually work or simply surf all the time…I’m beginning to wonder as well, but in earnest! All in all a great weekend.
I almost forgot to mention a few things! First of all, Gretchen and I were able to chaperone a school dance on Friday. The music was current with what we would expect to hear in the United States (if not, surprisingly, slightly more inappropriate). What we observed was that although many of the students spoke to each other in Afrikaans, we felt very familiar with the atmosphere; wherever you travel, kids are still kids. Also, Dr. Singh and his wife invited us to dinner on Wednesday. We had a great time and ate curry until our stomachs were stuffed. Jade (Dr. Singh’s wife) insisted we eat more…hmm, a mother pushing food…why does that feel so familiar!?
Random: Here is a picture of Gretchen in front of the Summerstrand shopping center. It is very interesting that the shopping centers here have absolutely everything from grocery stores to doctor’s offices to clothing shops like we are used to at the mall. Our particular grocery store is called the Pick n’ Pay (By the way, just saw on the news that Pick n' Pay's stock is up...guess they have us and our 'Yum-Yum' peanut butter to thank!):
Alrighty, this post is getting a bit long and I need to wrap it up before Kavish (Dr. Singh’s son) comes to pick us up in order to take us to the airport to pick up Meredith! As Reading Rainbow's LeVar Burton would say, “I’ll see you next time!”
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