June 16^th

                  ^{The sun is shinning and feels warm upon my shin.  Not enough to ease the pain of the freezing breeze that follows soon after.  I feel the party from last night creeping up on me.  After many cocktails, a lounge, and a reggae bar, I am so desperately craving a carbohydrate. Sifiso tells me that breakfast is a small drive, but promises me that it is worth the wait.  Probably not the best idea for me to wear a tiny little dress and drink whiskey all night in the middle of winter.  This is not going to end well I can feel it, but at this point nothing can get me down.  We are on our way to Boulders Bay to see the penguins.  Yes penguins!!  I never saw that coming from Africa so I have to see this for myself.}

^{I vaguely recall my conversations at the bar last night.  All the local black men wanted to talk about was politics and sex.  Why do those two things always go hand in hand?  Well I guess in the end, either way you get screwed.  I learned a lot more about how they felt about what is going on here.  It is a burden they all hold on their shoulders, but they do not let it define the boundaries of their lives, though I do think some of them may use it to their advantage.  I was accepted with open arms, as long as I listened, which I was more than happy to do, but I did not get much talking in.  Their opinion seemed to be the only one that mattered.  They would ask me questions, but then begin talking before I had a chance to answer them.  So I just listened.}

            ^{The drive is so beautiful.  I am in love with this place.  On the way we pass by the Beverly Hills of Cape Town, modern mansions with huge gardens and chandeliers hanging in the entry room window.  It is hard to believe that this is a developing country from everything that I have seen.  I know the illusion will end once I leave Cape Town.} 

            ^{When I arrived at the airport in Cape Town there was a mural on the wall of all these beautiful rainbow houses on the beach.  I have been asking where to find these houses and no one seemed to know where they were.  I was beginning to think they did not exist.  Not a moment later we pull around a bend and there they are.  Just as cute as I though they would be.  Every color of the rainbow all wooden huts lined up next to each other right on the water.  It is a dream.  So beautiful.  I want one.  Sifiso gladly pulled over so that I could take a picture} 

^{About ten meters up the road we pulled over again, the famous breakfast stop that was worth the wait.  It was small and all black and white, very quaint.  All the tables were perfectly placed though very close to each other.  It reminds me of something I would find in Venice Beach, California.  It was a bakery with a small menu, but that was all they needed.  I ordered the same thing as Sifiso.  As I waited I could not help but to notice the amazing black and white photos on the wall behind me.  They are of the Zulu tribes adorned in ritual and costume.  They are so beautiful.  The concept of their accessories is duly noted for my future designs.}  

            ^{Within minuets the breakfast came and it was the most amazing meal I have had in months.  Eggs with cheese and a fresh baked croissant, baked mushrooms and bacon, I could eat three of these.  It was well worth the wait and them some, everything my body needs and more.  I am beginning to feel better.  We are sitting at the counter at the front of the bakery facing the water.  Crowds of hippies and barefoot travelers with their dogs pass by.  Men selling hand crafted items made of glass and soda cans also fill the streets.   The small towns feel laid pack nature makes this place so desirable, the perfect pit stop on the way to Boulder Beach.  This is it.  This is the place I could really live.  Salsa would love it here, Kulk Bay, Cape Town.}   

            ^{Boulder beach looks exactly like Virgin Gorda Baths in The B.V.I.  The water is crystal clear and so inviting, but I am not to be fooled by the temperature.  The penguins run around as though in a constant state of play and curiosity.  Each one seems to be joined at the hip of another.  They are creatures of love and seem to travel in pairs.  I cannot tell the sex of the penguins but I assume they are traveling as male and female.  They fill the beaches and the long brick pathway that lines the water.  It is truly amazing to see them here.  This is one of my most favorite places I have ever been, I actually wonder what it would take for me to live here, how much I would have to alter my life.  This is the only place I have ever said that about.  It is so absolutely beautiful.  I can’t even imagine how amazing it would be in the summer time.  Despite all of its problems, I could one day call this place home.  That is assuming my parents would one day find a love for travel.}  

           

^{June 16th The Feast}

            ^{After what can only be described as the most perfect day, minus the extreme hangover, Sifiso tells us he has more in store for us.  It is a holiday here, a day to remember a group of rebel teenagers were brutally murdered during a protest.   So in honor of the day off, we eat.  There is a special kind of feast where they cook from a Potjiekos.  This is a small pot that is hooked up to a gas canister.  Only I had no idea what kind of feast we were going to have.  In the U.S. we would have a B.B.Q with hot dogs and hamburgers.  I can’t wait to see what their traditions are here.}

^{After a twenty-minuet drive back towards town we stop at a cute little cottage style apartment.   A beautiful blonde girl answers the door and greats us with a smile, a hug, and glass wine.  I love her already.  A few of Sifiso’s co-workers were spending the holiday together and invited us to join them.  The house has a very warm feeling, it is raw and artistic.  Beautiful black and white photos of their trip to Venice and Florence hang on the wall in the entryway.  As I want through the kitchen I see a man full of smiles sitting on a small stool stirring a small pot attached to a gas unit.  I recognize him as the man in the photographs.  He has been working on this dish since seven this morning and now it is about 5:30 p.m.  He smiles and tells me to have a seat in the family room and help myself to some snacks.}

^{The room is full of conversation and laughter.  I stand near the couch admiring the empty picture frames on the wall, all in different colors and textures.  Introductions go around the room, too many for me to remember.  The energy is warm and everyone is so welcoming.  What an amazing group of people. I smile remembering all of these amazing nights with my friends.  An hour of socializing and drinking goes by then the announcement is made.  “Take your seats everyone.  The feast is finally ready,” after about ten hours of cooking.}

^{I grab my plate and head to the kitchen filled with excitement. He puts a strange looking pile of food on my late; the famous dish looks more than appealing.  I help myself to many other strange dishes I have never tried before and sit down to dine.} 

^{“What is it?”  I asked, as my mouth was full and a smile on my face.  The dish is filled with pasta noodles, vegetables, and some kind of jerky that they made themselves.  I had three servings…….}

^{These are my last few days with Sifiso.  I will miss him so much.  The time I have spent with him I will cherish forever.  See, this is the downfall of traveling. Always having to say good-bye.}  

^Knysna

^{It hits me like a ton of bricks.  It might as well be raining pins and needles.  Hands shaking, sweating, miserable, I am sick.  It is not your run of the mill cold; I am down for the count.  The tiny black dress in Cape Town, I knew this was coming.}

            ^{I am standing at the corner of the main street in Knysna, South Africa, a small artsy town about six hours up the coast from Cape Town.    I am freezing and sick.  I need home.  I need my mother, any mother.} 

            ^{“Alex, Courtney.”  A skinny blonde man asks us.  I am so happy to hear someone’s voice that will take us out of the cold.  It is our host on couch surfing.  He walks us about six blocks, the longest six blocks of my life, to his apartment complex.  Of course the elevator is broken so we drag our bags up three flights of stairs, I am dying up the stairs.  Not the best first impression.  He swings open the apartment doors.  I peer into the room only to find it empty with nothing but a small desk and computer facing the window and a mattress next to it on the floor.  Tough there are two bedrooms, the mattress remains in the family room.  He escorts us to the nearest bedroom and I fling open my bag, tear out my sleeping bag and excuse myself to bed.} 

            ^{I wake to find myself still freezing and still on my deathbed.  The windows are covered in dew from the cold weather and my breath is visible even in the bedroom.  There is no heat of course.  No one in South Africa seems to have heat.  It is crazy because they have a very dramatic winter.  I am not sure how they survive like this.} 

            ^{Alex sees the pain written all over my face and offers to walk me to the local pharmacy.  I get every drug they sell for cold and flew and take myself back to bed.  I only have three days here and I am going to miss them all.  This is a terrible way to try and make friends with our couch host bus he doesn’t seem to mind; he is at his computer working on music for the next music festival.  He is a DJ and his concentration on his music is perfectly distracting for all us.} 

            ^{I wake the next morning to find myself still on my deathbed.  I cannot waste another day.  I agree to go on a canoe safari down the river.  I just hope it does not rain, that is all I ask.} 

            ^{The canoe trip is nothing less than peaceful.  The air is filled with pure silence, other than the coughing and sneezing on my end.  Birds fly in all directions, dogs swim in the river, men are fishing off the side land, I gently float downstream.  I can’t help but to think of my family and what they are all doing right now.  I miss them so much and it is days like these that I wish we had to share together.  I wish they could see this.  We pull over an hour later to the side bank and have lunch.  It is just Alex and I and the guide and one other kid who happened to also be on our bus coming here.  The four of us settle in and take in the view.} 

            ^{We head back upstream to the car.  Now we are going against the current and I have to actually work, and lone behold it begins to rain…………}

The New South Africa....

June 15^th

            Every time I think of where I am I have to pinch myself.  I still cannot believe I ended up here.  It all seemed so simple; 1. Buy plane tickets to everywhere I want to go around the world, 2. Quit job…..I just wish everyone was here to share it with me, especially this place. 

Cape town is a magical city.  The mountains, the city, and the beach are all within ten minuets of each other.   It is giving Cali a run for her money.  This is more or less a Cali winter as well.  A friend from couch surfing, Sifiso, has agreed to take us in for a few nights.  He is the warmest sweetest person and makes us feel right at home in his more than cozy apartment right in the middle of the city.  This is a good feeling to have since it is so cold outside.  He works for Facebook in Cape Town, but is a political science major.  We are the perfect students to hear his ideas about politics as a black man in South Africa.         

Though South Africa is one of the most amazing places, its social problems  are bubbling at the surface.  Its social structure is well, new, and will take some time to develop.  Civil rights and equality of man is very new here and it cannot go unnoticed.  The city is filled with security in every corner, yet I feel no actual presence of danger anywhere I go.  I am sure it is here but fails to show its ugly head to me.  I am not sure if I am lucky or naive.  Benches marked in “non whites only” still stand by Parliament to remind the country of its progress in ending segregation. 

            In South Africa there are many tribes but there are two main languages are spoken among the natives, Zulu and Swahili.  They’re the two most dominant tribes.  There are many other tribes that fill this lustrous land as well.  The earliest people to inhabit this land were the San and the Khoek Hoe people.  I am not sure what happened to these people, but I am pretty sure that when the Dutch settled here in the mid 1600’s, it is not good.   Just writing this story and thinking about the similarities of America I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.  The Dutch did not rule for long, even though many of the buildings and roads are market in their language.  In the early 1900’s, South Africa became a British Empire and the tyranny continues. 

            Under this rule the natives were put into groups and sent to live on their own reservations away from the white people.  The first group was the Blacks; these were natives with both parents being African, purebreds.  Then there were the colored people.  This group of people had mixed parents, one black and one white.  Though it seems crude to call them colored people, this is their actual nationality and is marked as such on their personal identifications.  Then of course, you have the whites.  “The Man”, who will forever continue to take what does not belong to him.

            This brought war.  The fight for freedom stained the streets and would hopefully one day belong to them again. Freedom seemed so far away.   In 1994 Nelson Mandela, the first black man in South Africa to become president, would make their freedom a reality.  The civil rights movement would begin.  Equality for man would soon be the new pulse of South Africa, whether everyone liked it or not. 

Tolerance should not have to be learned, but unfortunately it is a slow process. 

June 12th Cape Town, South Africa

 Table Mountain

           

            Checklist for Cape Town, first: climb Table Mountain, second: Get a coat, boots, and sweatshirts.  Since the day is slightly warmer than night we are fooled into believing that it is a good idea to do Table Mountain first.  Something we will soon regret.  We head for the hills, which inn Cape Town in a 10-minuet drive from the ocean and a 5-minuet drive form the city.  Another reason why I will soon discover this place is paradise. 

            Table Mountain is one of two major mountains to climb here in Cape Town.  It gets its name from the fact that it is totally flat on top like a table, after one hell of a climb of course.  It is tall and rigid. It is an overwhelming display of jagged rocks and steep mountain slopes.  The sound of a waterfall echoes among the ridges.  Drops of perspiration fall down my back in the mere twenty-minuet walk to the base of the mountain.  I stand at the bottom, head back and eyes up filled with intimidation.  ‘It is just one step after another,’ I tell myself.  I turn to the right to find Alex grinning ear to ear.  This is just the sort of challenge she was hoping for. 

            The slope is nothing short of dramatic.  I climb as fast as I can, still Alex is always twenty steps ahead of me.  She pauses time to time to let me catch up, snatching every photo she can of the torment that constantly fills my face. 

            We finally reach the waterfall and neither of us pauses to drench ourselves in the freezing winter water.  It was a good thing we did too because the hill above us is at least three times as steep as before.  It is a dirt rock path lined with a rock wall held together with twisted wire.  This is probably for safety so that people don’t fall down the hill, but I find that it is much easier to walk on top of the wall. 

            The estimated time to climb the mountain is two hours.  Already Alex and I are running behind, nothing short of being my fault.  The climb thickens and the sun is at its highest for the day.  I reach my hand high over my head and find a steady place to plant my foot to push me up the rock walls.  My breath is shallow and I am nothing short of exhausted.  I make it up the nearest wall and fall to the ground to take a break.  All I can hear in the background is Alex screaming words of encouragement like an obnoxious cheerleader.  She is full of endless promises that there is ice cream at the top of the hill.  Somehow it works.  I climb and climb.  Stopping at every moment I can to look back at the view of the whole city and my accomplishment. 

            A large propeller sound echoes in the valleys of the hillside.  I look up to find a rescue helicopter and for one split second I actually think of flagging them down.  Then reality hits me and I realize that would cost me like $10,000.  So I climb some more. 

            Just shy of three hours I finally make it to the top.  I have little to no energy left even to celebrate.  Somehow I find it in me to run up the last flight of stairs to the view and you will never believe what I see, an Ice Cream store.       

June 12th Cape Town, South Africa

 Table Mountain

           

            Checklist for Cape Town, first: climb Table Mountain, second: Get a coat, boots, and sweatshirts.  Since the day is slightly warmer than night we are fooled into believing that it is a good idea to do Table Mountain first.  Something we will soon regret.  We head for the hills, which inn Cape Town in a 10-minuet drive from the ocean and a 5-minuet drive form the city.  Another reason why I will soon discover this place is paradise. 

            Table Mountain is one of two major mountains to climb here in Cape Town.  It gets its name from the fact that it is totally flat on top like a table, after one hell of a climb of course.  It is tall and rigid. It is an overwhelming display of jagged rocks and steep mountain slopes.  The sound of a waterfall echoes among the ridges.  Drops of perspiration fall down my back in the mere twenty-minuet walk to the base of the mountain.  I stand at the bottom, head back and eyes up filled with intimidation.  ‘It is just one step after another,’ I tell myself.  I turn to the right to find Alex grinning ear to ear.  This is just the sort of challenge she was hoping for. 

            The slope is nothing short of dramatic.  I climb as fast as I can, still Alex is always twenty steps ahead of me.  She pauses time to time to let me catch up, snatching every photo she can of the torment that constantly fills my face. 

            We finally reach the waterfall and neither of us pauses to drench ourselves in the freezing winter water.  It was a good thing we did too because the hill above us is at least three times as steep as before.  It is a dirt rock path lined with a rock wall held together with twisted wire.  This is probably for safety so that people don’t fall down the hill, but I find that it is much easier to walk on top of the wall. 

            The estimated time to climb the mountain is two hours.  Already Alex and I are running behind, nothing short of being my fault.  The climb thickens and the sun is at its highest for the day.  I reach my hand high over my head and find a steady place to plant my foot to push me up the rock walls.  My breath is shallow and I am nothing short of exhausted.  I make it up the nearest wall and fall to the ground to take a break.  All I can hear in the background is Alex screaming words of encouragement like an obnoxious cheerleader.  She is full of endless promises that there is ice cream at the top of the hill.  Somehow it works.  I climb and climb.  Stopping at every moment I can to look back at the view of the whole city and my accomplishment. 

            A large propeller sound echoes in the valleys of the hillside.  I look up to find a rescue helicopter and for one split second I actually think of flagging them down.  Then reality hits me and I realize that would cost me like $10,000.  So I climb some more. 

            Just shy of three hours I finally make it to the top.  I have little to no energy left even to celebrate.  Somehow I find it in me to run up the last flight of stairs to the view and you will never believe what I see, an Ice Cream store.       

South Africa June 11th

            A light breeze turns into a harsh wind.  The chill of the air numbs my face, the hair on my exposed arms and legs stands call.  I am in Cape Town South Africa and it is dead middle of winter.  Every breath I take appears as thick cigarette smoke.  I am freezing.  My tank dresses and linen pants are no match for this South African winter.  
            The temperature of the hostel we are staying at is no different than that of outside.  Our sleeping bags are our only saving grace at this moment, We spend the entire first night trying everything not to leave them.  

Dubai June 10th

            A dramatic clash form an ancient world to a futuristic world lays the foundation of Dubai.  Women dressed in black Chador’s and men in white Thobe’s fill the streets even at this late hour.  Our stay in Dubai is on the basis of a twelve-hour layover and at night, so our time is valuable here.  To make the most of the time we have, Alex and I decide to do a night tour of the city. 

            I am in awe of this magical city.  At first glance, everything is breathtakingly avant-guard.  It is so far over the top that it almost doesn’t seem real.  The tour leads us to all of the most dominant attractions, including the Atlantis Hotel.  At first I questioned why we would be stopping at a hotel is on our list of attractions, but as I walk in all of my questions are answered.  It was one very special reason alone.  The largest aquarium I have ever seen.  Floor to ceiling fish, stingrays, sharks…you name it.  Alex and I so desperately want to jump in.  I could stay here for hours, but the tour must go on.

            We drove along the palm tree islands that are only visible as a palm tree from satellite, a man made paradise, only you have to be a multi millionaire to enjoy it.  Houses start at Eight million dollars. 

            The rest of the tour includes famous buildings and hotels, including the tallest building in the world.  The Burj Khalifa stands 2,717 feet and cost 1.5 billion dollars to build.  All of Dubai is filled with these elaborate futuristic creations that cost an ungodly fortune.  Even with all the millionaire vacationers, I still don’t know how they stay afloat.  The main line of work, and on of the only lines of work here, is real estate.  80% of the population of Dubai is tourists.  There is absolutely zero, and I mean zero, crime here.  There are no drugs, bars, casinos, or nightclubs.  Dubai is the only one of the seven Emirates that even serves alcohol at all. 

            So you can guess that this does not make Dubai my dream vacation getaway.  And twelve hours is enough to satisfy

New York City

NYC  May 7^th

                New York.  Lights, music, fashion, shoes, shoes, pavement, smog, people, chaos, subways, shopping, art, books, coffee, fashion.  What a sigh of relief to be in a place that hosts all of these things on a single block.  We arrive at our couch surfer’s house at around midnight.  After a whole fiasco with the airline ruining our bags, we were happy to get a good night’s sleep in a real bed.  A skinny EMO kid, Johnny, from Florida answers the door.  He takes us in and shows us the ropes of the house.  After giving us a plethora of information, he informs us that he is also a couch surfer and does not live there, but that he was staying here for four months.    

                There is a shower upstairs and a bathroom downstairs where we will be staying.  The downstairs is a living room filled with beds and pull out couches.  It turns out that this entire apartment is dedicated to couch surfing and there will be eleven people from all over the world sleeping here tonight.  This does not include the 5 roommates that live here in this three bedroom house.  The five roommates are all artists, the kind of person it takes to live in a house open to absolutely everyone.  Anyone can come and stay as long as they need to.  A girl comes home and greets us. She is one of the roommates.  She takes a $20 deposit from me for the key to the house and tells me to put my bags on the huge shelf marked luggage.  The air is filled with many different languages and people from all over the world.  We put our luggage down and claim the top bunk bed in the corner of the room and settle in for a long overdue sleep. 

May 8^th

I have only been away from the U.S. for a short while but the noise of the city and smell of pollution from something other than burning trash is somewhat comforting.  Today is a day or errands.  Laundry, shopping, and well Mexican food are at the top of my list.  We walk to the local Laundromat located next to the subway entrance.  It is pathetic I am sure, but this is the first time I have ever done laundry in a public Laundromat. 

                After laundry and the most amazing $3.00 breakfast, which I had no idea was even possible in New York, we head out to S.O.H.O. to return our luggage and do some shopping at the outdoor store.  We realized that after two weeks of camping in Jamaica, there are a few more things we need.  The subway ride is long and dirty.  It is the one and only thing I hate about New York.  How dirty it is.  I am constantly trying not to touch anything, but being in this vibrant and pulsating city makes it tolerable. 

                The air is hot.  And I mean hot.  Just being outside for a mere ten minutes is exhausting.  We exit the subway and walk carrying our bags for twenty nine blocks.  After what seemed like forever, we finally arrive at our destination to find out that it does not exist.  The man working behind the counter took one look at our thankfully empty backpacks, and knew why we were there.  He informs us that this location will not be open until November.  “You have got to be kidding me!!”  The next closest location is in long Island.  This is my third time in New York, and I have never even been close to Long Island, nor did I want to.  We took the train. 

May 9^th

We rise for an early morning and full day of New York City tourism.  One of the most amazing things about NYC, is that the art is available to everyone.  We start the day off at the M.E.T.  The entry fee for the M.E.T. is by a requested donation of $30.00.  We donate $2.00 for the three of us and head over to the Alexander McQueen exit.  Johnny, the skinny EMO kid, never seems to leave the house so we dragged him with us. 

                The tragedy of Alexander McQueens’s death pours into the hearts of the many people who gather to form the hour long line to get into the exhibit.  Three women that surround me are adorned in McQueen themselves.  The entrance is everything I wanted it to be and more.  A fiery lipstick red dress and a white floor length dress made entirely of sea shells greet us at the door.  It scales down to the floor carrying a light shimmer that reflects across the room.  I can imagine the Queen of Narnia wearing this piece. 

                A turn of my head leads me to find the geometric room.  A kaleidoscope of color and texture are the essence of the collection.  The asymmetrical shapes are more than pleasing to the eye.  It was his last and final collection.  This is followed by my favorite room.  The gothic room is filled with black leather, lace, feathers, and sequins, all upon each other in a simple embrace topped with layer and layer of hand done work.  A fan blows into a floor length cape that is bound at the ankles.  Its dramatic nature does not go overlooked. 

                Just when you think, ‘wow , what sexual clothing,’ you get to the actual room dedicated to sex and impractical accessories.  Head –dresses made of leather, feathers, and shells.  A skeleton like corset made of metal with a tail that came off its spinal shaped back catches my eye as the moaning of a woman’s voice plays in the background of the exhibit. 

                A white strapless dress, which was worn in a runway show where machines containing spray paint rolled out to adorn the dress, stands tall in the corner.  And then I see it, the piece that takes my breath away.  Now if you know me at all you know the louder the color and the more feathers and sequins the better, but this, this is perfect just the way it is.  It is a wood corset that shapes up into huge wings rising up over the shoulders of the mannequin as she rotates in a *360 motion.  This is all she wears.  It is absolutely fabulous. 

                To my left, I am attracted to something shimmery.  I run to the window.  I am not disappointed.  A metallic gold feather floor length coat stands above the most amazing shoes I have ever seen.  Studs, pearls, shells, sequins, and glitter make up the shoes that at this exact moment just thinking about them takes my breath away.  What I wouldn’t give to walk a mile in those.  I peer down to cringe at my torn up, over used flip flops.  “There will be a day, “ I tell myself, “a day when my feet get to again feel the pain and beauty of over elaborate and unnecessarily fabulous shoes. 

                My dirty flip flops then carry me through the Victorian room filled with velvet and brocade.  The detail is remarkable.  The next room is a video.  As I start to watch it, it appears to be a small flower petal blowing in the wind.  As it gets bigger and bigger it turns into a woman wearing a long flowing dress blowing in the wind coming from every direction as she turns, as though to represent an angel of purity.  Its beauty is so captivating; I watch it three times before moving on.  These are just a few of the things I loved in this exhibit.  The magic continues and continues for four more rooms.  I am so happy to be here among such beauty everywhere.  I feel privileged to have seen all of this.    

                The creation and innovation of Alexander McQueen leaves me breathless.  He is such an inspiration, art at its truest most raw form.  His heart and soul bleeds into his every creation.  It breaks my heart that the world has lost such a talent, a beautiful, vibrant, exciting and twisted soul.  His work will live long beyond his short lived life.  Alexander McQueen I love you. 

                To carry on the cliché of going to the M.E.T. in NYC, we follow it up with a picnic in Central Park.  And by picnic I mean hot dogs in Central Park.  It is the perfect day followed what will be the perfect night.  Alex and I go on a double date with two guys in downtown Harlem.  Alex falls in love.