It's Monday, the first day of March. It really is quite incredible--borderline scary--to already be in March. Before I know it, my time here will be winding down. It's constantly scorching here in Cape Town. Yesterday was probably the hottest day yet, reaching as high as 40 C (about 104 F).
This Sunday I took another trip to the Muisenberg beach with two of my housemates, Phillip and Johannas. Phil is a 27 year old graduate from Western Michigan and Johannas is a 22 year old German who shares a room with me. Our fourth housemate, Andy, is 20 and goes to NC State. I had a pretty nice experience at the beach this time. We swam for a bit, and then kicked a soccer ball around for quite some time. The highlight of the trip, however, was my encounter with a local homeless man named Errian Kol (sp?). Anyways, he was walking around and decided to take a seat next to me. I was a little uneasy at first, but I soon understood that all he wanted was to chat, and maybe something to eat. We talked. I had no food for him, but I gave him a Coke. I told him where I was from, and he explained a little of his background. I learned that his mother’s mother’s great grandmother was a German, thus explaining his colouration. He really liked hearing about the United States. His first question to me was, “Have you ever seen Mariah Carey?” Sadly, I hadn’t. He really liked my Milwaukee Brewers hat, so I asked him if he wanted to switch hats. He really liked that idea. And so did I. I gave him my Brewers hat, and he gave me his faded green hat. We took a picture together, and then went our separate ways. I think we both were positively affected by the interaction. I told him that when I come back to this beach, I’ll wear my new green hat, and that he should wear his Brewers hat. That way, we can hopefully run into each other again. It was just a nice experience at the beach. I’m sure I’ll be back to that beach, and it'd be neat to run into him again. My new green hat has been very lucky at the house poker table, too! I've won 2 of the last 3 nights.
We bussed down to Cape Point/ the Cape of Good Hope, which was originally believed to be the southern-most point in Africa, but later found to be out-“southed” by Cape Agulhas, a cape that jets out a few hundred kilometers to the east. Windy with rocky cliffs and sandy beaches. Sunny and blue waters. All of us little international ants filed out of our tour bus and ascended up to the watchtower at Cape Point. A satisfying lookout place to where the Atlantic meets the Indian. The ants then descended the trail back to the bus. But the five of us were not completely satisfied. In the short, more southern, distance stood an old man’s house. We needed to visit him—possibly the southern-most man of Africa. We were short on time but we didn’t care. We ascended, descended, and then ascended once more. Treacherous paths. At times only a misstep away from fatally dropping. Crawling on all fours with the incoming image of the shack keeping us motivated. Finally, it’s within reach, almost there. We joyously arrive at the man’s shack, which is vacant at the moment. He left it open, though, so we could take a look around. We think we see him in his houseboat out at sea where he spends most his days. Oh well, we are just happy to have made it. We need proof. I quickly find a rock on which to place my camera, set the timer…and flash! Great photo for an even greater trek! We descend back to the busses completely satisfied, to where all the ants have already gathered. None of them understand the significance of our adventure.
