Day 226: Joburg to Durban

South Africa, you have some beautiful landscapes. That is the triple truth, Ruth. 
At the last minute, a couchsurfer host responded to our request, and we were elated we had a place to stay when we arrived in Durban. We were intrigued he was a restauranteur and looking forward to meeting him and trying out his restaurant. We stopped by the restaurant at night, when he was working and were happy to sit down with him and his friends and talk about our travels and the restaurant business in South Africa and what Durban was like. A few free shots later, we slipped out before it would be guaranteed that I would wake up with a headache.

Day 225: Apartheid Museum

The Apartheid Museum  tells the story of the era of Apartheid in South Africa. If you’re unfamiliar with Apartheid, the word is Afrikaans, and as you can see below (in a picture I was not supposed to take), the definition is  “the status of being apart.” It became the term for the system of racial segregation enforced in South Africa between 1948 and 1994. If you want to know more about it, check out the wikipedia page all ’bout it.

It’s intense. The museum is intense, and I’m sure very thorough, but to us, it felt a bit… poorly organized. There is so much information and some really great – REALLY GREAT – media and photographs and imagery, but multiple times, Andrew and I weren’t sure where to go next or what made sense chronologically. We might be a bit daft, but after spending over two hours in the museum, I’m still not sure of the chain of events leading up to apartheid and what led to ending it. I cannot stress enough how much information is there, and how everyone visiting Joburg should go, but maybe spring for a guide who knows the lay of land a little bit. And maybe plan for more than two hours, because that was not nearly enough time for us.

Day 224: Liliesleaf Farm

Liliesleaf Farm is probably not the first thing that one thinks of when discussing Apartheid. I knew nothing about it, until Andrew discovered it was one of the top rated things to do on TripAdvisor in the area we were staying. We went and learned that it was a farm used by the ANC (political party in South Africa that defines itself as the “disciplined force of the left” and has been the ruling party since post-Apartheid South Africa) secretly during Apartheid in the 1960s. It was here where 12 activists were arrested, leading to the Rivonia Trial where 10 of these activists, ANC leaders, including Nelson Mandela were tried for attempting to overthrow the apartheid system.

It was interesting to see that a white family in the middle of Apartheid was pretending to live on a farm while hiding members, leaders of the ANC while they met. It reminded me a little of the Underground Railroad in the States during slavery (except this house was just for meetings, not smuggling people) and it just really surprised me that this was going on not so long ago. I’m always a bit befuddled when I hear about inequality. It gets me quite ranty and those who are friends with me on Facebook have probably hid me by now from their feeds (as they should) when someone tries to justify inequality.

On the farm, there was also an old safari bus that was used to smuggle weapons into South Africa for the ANC. Unsuspecting tourists provided a believable cover for the safari bus full of weapons. They showed a video of the tourists- more recently- being told that the bus they were on was smuggling so many weapons. It warmed my heart when some of the tourists, aside from being shocked, said that it might have been the best thing they’ve ever done- and it was done unknowingly.

Apartheid is gone, technically in South Africa, but the differences between races in the country were glaring to us as outside visitors. Domestic servants not only seem to be ONLY black women, but it seems that there is some underwritten requirement that they have to wear a maid’s uniform that reminded me of the Mammy archetype in old movies. Along the streets, we would see domestic servants walking to work. The only white people walking on the street seemed to be us (the few times we were walking somewhere). Whenever we interacted with a black person, it was because they were serving us to a some degree- they were the ones behind a deli counter, at the cash register in the super-market, our waiter at a cafe… It made me (and Andrew) feel uncomfortable. One time there was a white person working behind a counter and I immediately identified that that wasn’t exactly of the norm, and again, felt strange for noticing. It just felt strange.

I’m not pointing any fingers, I know change doesn’t happen overnight, and I certainly know that life must be better than it was during Apartheid days, but the differences we noticed, perhaps as Americans with a history (and a continued battle) with inequality, and after traveling through Uganda, Tanzania, and Mozambique, where everyone was black (except for those visiting or the white Portugese in Mozambique) it felt strange.  Tony and Raquel, both Portugese (Tony being Portugese-South African) told us that they weren’t characterized by the color of their skin, they were, to other South Africans, “Portugese.”

The strangeness continues…

These books are a memorial to those who lost their lives during the days of Apartheid. I thought they were so beautiful against the bright blue sky, don’t you?

Afterwards, Tony picked us up for dinner and we arrived to an abundance of food that Raquel had prepared for us. Thank you, so much to both of you! It was so fun hanging out with friends, that we had known prior to stepping foot in the country and being able to talk about everything from annoying tourists (Anya, I’m looking at you!) to South African politics to Mozambican economics to traveling through Laos… It made me wonder what conversations would be like over dinner back in the States.

Day 223: Main Street Market + I was shot in Joburg

When you plan to go on a trip around the world, you get excited about all of the new friends you’re going to make. You don’t prepare yourself for making new, wonderful friends from elsewhere in the world and then meeting up with them several months later in their home country. That’s what happened today. Even better, they came to pick us up and took us out around Joburg for the day! We headed to The Main Street Market and discovered I was shot in Joburg!

We met Tony and Raquel trekking through Northern Vietnam for three days. Tony even had seen my blog prior to the trip! (I’m sure he was just humoring me, but I felt like a celebrity nonetheless that he actually had read my blog before!) They had planned on us staying with them while we were in Joburg, but our timing was off and we arrived the very week they moved into a new place AND started a new job. To give you an idea of how sweet these two are, they told us how they kept us in mind when shopping for a pull-out couch for us to sleep on. They wanted to make sure it was not only comfortable for us, but that Andrew would fit on it. I could have kissed them. After traveling around for nearly eight months now, we’re used to taking care of each other, but when someone else jumps in to help take care of us, well, it just feels special.

They decided to take us down to Main Street Market, similar to Neighbour Goods Market, but in a different part of town. We were thrilled to have the opportunity to try foods we didn’t try the day before. Andrew found a micro-brewery. Thanks, SMACK! Republic!

I found some photography exhibitions, specifically one featuring street kids that totally rocked my socks off. (I have a thing for grids, alright?)

I was shot in Joburg (from their website) “is a brand providing a platform for street children, who’ve received photography training through the Studio_Bernard Viljoen Foundation [NGO], to apply their newly developed skills and generate an income…

Now, how can I do this in NYC when we move there next year? I was shot in Joburg people, let me know! I’ll be your American liaison! Your American counterpart! Your American fan- if nothing else. (Even though, I’m sure you probably have one of those already…)

And then, I found some street art on the way out, made everyone wait in the car for me, while I ran down the street to photograph them.

And then we went for coffee and Bloody Marys. Do you like how I made it sound like we all had both? We didn’t. Everyone else had coffee. I had a Bloody Mary. My first Bloody in at least eight months. “Once it hits your lips… It’s so good!”

Day 222: Joburg Neighbour Goods Market

There are good people in the world. And those people are couchsurfers. In this case, our hosts. If you’re unfamiliar with what couchsurfing is, just check out their website to see. We couldn’t do this trip without it and will forever be thankful for the opportunity to be a part of this crazy, yet unbelievably hospitable community. Our hosts for the night (and the following few nights) graciously picked us up from our hostel (we later found out it was roughly thirty minutes away from where they lived) and took us to the Joburg Neighbour Goods Market for the afternoon!

Niel and Resh tried to explain that they get out more when they host and appreciate where they live even more. I hope they weren’t just saying that to be nice. When Resh insisted on buying us coffee, Niel joked that she was rich and could afford it. I wanted to explain how meticulous we are with recording what we spend everyday. How not paying for coffee today could mean I could buy a beer tomorrow. On top of not spending money on accommodation for the night or a taxi to get to the market… Instead, I thanked them both profusely. for a my first latte in three months. (Because Uganda and Tanzania export all of their coffee, using the cheaper Nescafe instead. I’m assuming the same goes for Mozambique- but I don’t know if coffee is a big export for them, or they simply don’t grow it. Either way. We’ve been drinking Nescafe for awhile now.)

We walked around the market. Andrew and I were overwhelmed. It’s the same kind of reverse culture shock I get whenever I’m in an American grocery store after being in Korea for extended periods of time. (Once, an aisle of hummus and an attractive store clerk- who spoke English! – sent me running home without any groceries at all. I was so overwhelmed and didn’t know what to get or how I would ask someone for the cut of pork that goes in kimchi chiggae in English that I ran.) Now, going to any kind of grocery store is an adventure for the two of us, so an artisanal foods market was overwhelming.

Cheese. An entire stall devoted to Mexican food. Pizzas. Sushi. Homemade jams. Sausage. Beer. Mimosas. Champagne and Oysters. Bread. Sandwiches. Burgers. Quiches!

There was everything… except… black people. Being in Africa for three months, reminded me of what it was like in Korea at times. I didn’t really think I stood out until a child would touch my hair or my arm, or I would be sitting next to someone with beautiful skin that looked a bit different than my own and be so envious of how they would never be pasty white. As in Korea, in Africa, I got used to standing out from the crowd a little. In Korea, I would notice more readily when another “foreigner” was around. Now, in South Africa, here at the Neighbour Goods Market, I noticed more readily how many others looked similar to me and how few looked different. It was strange.

“There’s a lot of white people here.” Andrew stated the obvious within the first few minutes of walking in the doors.

“Yea… Weird…” I agreed. That, and the plethora of options to eat continued to befuddle us throughout the afternoon.

After the market, we headed back to their place where we sipped on Scotch and a South African cream liquor while we watched 2001: A Space Odyssey. Andrew and I could not stop saying “Thank you” and were in constant awe of how easy everything was after Mozambique.

Day 221: Joburg Hop on – Hop off bus tour

I’m cheating on this post. We didn’t actually go on the bus tour our first day in Joburg. There, I said it. (Whew! I feel better!) Instead- we arrived in town around four in the morning and crashed in our hostel until mid afternoon. It was gloomy. Thunder. Lightning. A rainy day perfect for sleeping after jumping countries. We managed a quick trip to the mall nearby to get lunch and a sim card, and then went back to bed.

A couple days later, our friends (made in the very first month of this trip trekking in Northern Vietnam), Tony and Raquel, suggested we do the Joburg Red Bus (also known as the Joburg Hop on – Hop off bus tour) while we were in town. A blogger friend of theirs wrote all about her adventure (here) and told us to check it out to see if it was something we would like to do. As we didn’t have our own car, we figured a bus to a lot of places we’d otherwise have to pay (a super overpriced taxi) to get there was probably a good idea.

Instead of showing you one minute of rain, I thought I’d take this day (this post) to show you a little of what we saw from the bus, and the fun pictures I got from the roof of the bus driving around Joburg!

We hopped on downtown right at the start and wound our way through the lively inner city. One that I would have LOVED to explore by foot with a camera in hand on my own, but safety doesn’t exactly permit one to walk around downtown Joburg by herself with a couple thousand dollars worth of camera gear in hand. I was really excited to shoot the city from the bus and maybe get some different perspectives and angles than I would have on foot.

he architecture is stunning. Despite the decay that is evident in many buildings, it becomes a beautiful juxtaposition. I could have ridden the bus around in circles just in the downtown area people watching. We drove out to the Apartheid Museum (more on that later) and around some other sites on the outskirts of town and made our way back into the city. Some old mining mills were still standing off the sides of the expressway.

When we got back downtown, my finger started twitching and I wanted desperately to get off the bus and walk around to take pictures. I spent two years shooting for Seoul Suburban walking around on my own (or with Charlie) photographing daily city life in Seoul. It was frustrating to not feel like I could do that. Except, I just had to make the decision TO do it. I told Andrew we were getting off the bus.

“Are you going to put your camera away?” He asked.

“No. I want to take pictures.” I was indignant. He sighed, knowing this was probably a battle he wasn’t going to win. I pulled my confidence pants up and we walked around until the next bus came.

We had to sprint to catch the next bus, which entertained quite a few people making their way into the park we were running through, but we made it and hopped on the next bus. Which is probably good, because Andrew later said he was a little bit nervous walking around that area of town.