tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18216523549662604902024-02-20T09:41:44.743+09:00My Overseas Journey(s), UnfilteredOK, it's a little filtered.Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-80482725130238949672017-08-30T06:06:00.000+09:002017-08-30T06:06:34.122+09:00Nicaragua Part II<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><u>Granada</u></span></div>
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One day, J, a few of her cousins, and I went on a trip to a city called Granada, which is southeast of Managua. Granada is a popular tourist town as it has beautiful Spanish colonial architecture and is located by the water. We took a boat ride off the coast of Granada and rode around the thousands of islands created by a volcanic eruption a long time ago. Many of the islands have houses or hotels on them and two of them had restaurants. We stopped at one to eat some fresh fish and drink Nicaraguan beers. There was even a small pool for the kiddies.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Catédral de Granada</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view from the boat</td></tr>
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<u>Diriamba and the Festival of San Sebastian</u></div>
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Diriamba is a small town known primarily for its clock tower and its annual Festival of San Sebastian, which I was fortunate enough to attend. It is a relatively poor town and most of the residents seemed to own their own businesses and sell goods at the market or provide services such as auto repair or tech support. J's cousin who hosted us, for example, made Nicaraguan cheese, a delightful smoky, salty cheese, in his back patio and sold it at the market. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famous clock tower of Diriamba</td></tr>
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When I first told J that I would be able to join her on her trip to Nicaragua she mentioned the Festival of San Sebastian and said that she was excited because she had never had a chance to see it before. San Sebastian is the patron saint of Diriamba and the next town over also celebrates its patron saint the week before, so the area basically has a two week long party. She mentioned that there would be a horse parade and that we might even get a chance to ride her uncle's horse. She also said there would be dancing and music and, oh yeah, a bull they light on fire that runs through the streets. A bull on fire? That runs through the streets? She didn't provide any additional detail and I assumed that I had misheard her and later forgot all about it.</div>
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The festival lasted a number of days. One day was dancing and music, another day was the horse parade, still another was a re-creation of the Spanish colonialists arriving in Nicaragua. For the latter, male residents dress up in white masks and costumes and dance with each other. Both male and female characters are played by men. It was a strange sight to behold. Later, they had a shrine to San Sebastian which they carried through the town.</div>
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Later in the week, J and I arrived late at night and saw that a huge crowd had assembled in the town center. People were squished onto the sidewalks though the streets had been closed to cars for the festival. We waited and waited not knowing what was supposed to happen and finally some fireworks went off. J and I couldn't figure out why people were watching the fireworks from just a few areas of the square. The fireworks were up in the air, so shouldn't they be standing all over? We moved from the very crowded sidewalk onto the street where a few men and teenage boys were standing drinking beer. There was a lot more space there and we enjoyed the fireworks in our spacious spots. Then, all of a sudden, we heard screaming and I just caught a glimpse of what appeared to be fire running through the street. Then I heard J yell "the bull!" We quickly ran to the sidewalk and fought our way through the crowds to get away from the bull just as it rammed itself into a bunch of people. I couldn't see it but I heard screaming and could tell that it was running from one side of the street to the other. "Is that a real bull?" I asked incredulously. J laughed. She explained that it's just a man dressed up as a bull with fireworks shooting off of him. We later found out that teenage boys will intentionally confront the bull in order to obtain burns and scars, which they show off to teenage girls. We left soon after the bull arrived.</div>
Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-46627981404728655742017-08-25T04:40:00.000+09:002017-08-26T05:43:10.517+09:00Nicaragua Part I<div style="text-align: justify;">
My good friend, J (no, not that J, a different J) invited me to visit Nicaragua with her. J's family hails from there and she visits frequently. I'd never been to Central America and had always wanted to go so I was excited to join her. Little did I know that Nicaragua would mean active volcanoes, fantastic food, and a fiery bull running through the streets. Such fun!</div>
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<u>Arriving</u></div>
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I flew to Managua, the capital city, by way of San Salvador* and arrived late at night. Flying into Managua at night, the most obvious feature was the presence of hundreds of neon trees lining the city's boulevards. I thought they looked nice and inviting but I later found out that they were a little bit controversial. Apparently they were a pet project of the president's wife,** but in a country where electricity is unstable and frequently goes out, it was seen as wasteful.</div>
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J's cousin was nice enough to come pick me up from the airport and we made our way to Diriamba, where J's family resides. Managua was foggy at night and its winding roads meant the 25 mile trip to Diriamba took a couple of hours. Though Diriamba is a relatively small town, we were there during a weeklong feast day celebration and so there were often big crowds of people, particularly at night. My friend J was just leaving a music concert and we grabbed some late night dinner from a restaurant with an outdoor grill and patio.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a great picture but a good summary of what I ate in Nicaragua: grilled meat, plaintains, beans, and rice.</td></tr>
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<u>Volcanoes</u></div>
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The next day we went volcano hopping. We started at Mombacho, a volcano which I was told was dormant only to find when we got to the top of it that no one actually knows whether it is active or dormant since steam comes out of the top. We walked around the perimeter of the crater and saw some fantastic views of the surrounding area.</div>
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Next up was the active Masaya. You can drive to the top and peer over the edge at the bubbling lava.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A great place to destroy an evil ring.</td></tr>
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<u>The Beach and Public Transportation</u></div>
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Even though it was the dead of winter, the temperature in Nicaragua was in the 70s. Since the weather was so nice, we decided to spend a day at the beach at a place called La Boquita. To get to the beach, we took public transportation, which is a little bit different from the public transportation I've used in other countries. For one thing, the vehicles consist of minivans and donated school buses. And the vehicles do not have set times or stops. Instead, they leave when they are completely full (and when I say "completely full" I mean every seat is taken, people are standing in the spaces between the seats, and in the case of the minivan, people are holding onto the door and hanging out of the vehicle) and stop wherever people ask them to stop along the route. Because the vehicles are so packed with people, you get to know your fellow riders very well. For most of the ride to La Boquita, I had a man's sweaty armpit in my face. Fortunately, it wasn't a long trip.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_i-xVrmE3lmxhK47P7TQ6Ua0GWt2SnDUT-VMTjXLHXLNQnP2lit3HuQe_IiKpBukUV92iiEcz1GPPvtqnip6qJ-pGQkuuba9VwOQGn76jY7Qnw_HojlcunKK7uYLyOAG_1IZnFVTe56Q/s1600/15965896_10106217477157743_8156954035443780103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_i-xVrmE3lmxhK47P7TQ6Ua0GWt2SnDUT-VMTjXLHXLNQnP2lit3HuQe_IiKpBukUV92iiEcz1GPPvtqnip6qJ-pGQkuuba9VwOQGn76jY7Qnw_HojlcunKK7uYLyOAG_1IZnFVTe56Q/s400/15965896_10106217477157743_8156954035443780103_n.jpg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picture of us taking public transportation.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgwM9ElnvZeoRdxkJEUGG7KHwkuSSJ1OkgLG1jwTVeoBq690PvY6yxA6rN8S_vGVfICb6396h86Mf9dghyphenhyphenKx8LmHTRH3xW_W7HLNKXt4Wk6c1PFgjxdaYSiAgL_Iy1VcA9T0ccGrVRxg/s1600/IMG_1271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgwM9ElnvZeoRdxkJEUGG7KHwkuSSJ1OkgLG1jwTVeoBq690PvY6yxA6rN8S_vGVfICb6396h86Mf9dghyphenhyphenKx8LmHTRH3xW_W7HLNKXt4Wk6c1PFgjxdaYSiAgL_Iy1VcA9T0ccGrVRxg/s400/IMG_1271.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seafood stew at the beach: lobster, crab, shrimp, raw turtle eggs, and some type of fish, with a side of plaintains and rice.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">What we didn't realize when we took public transportation was that it stopped running at around 5pm. Since we didn't leave the beach until 7pm, we were in a bit of a pickle. Fortunately for us, a large cattle truck had stopped by the beach to get some provisions and the driver was willing to take us back to Diriamba. We waited the half hour or so it took the driver and the workers who were with him to finish their refreshments and then we all piled into the back. The workers sat atop the truck but we chose to sit inside the truck bed (I think that's what it's called). At one end was a hammock which one of the workers slept in while we drove. Since the truck bed was comprised of wooden slats, we were able to see the stars above us while we rode. Perhaps not the safest method of transportation, but it was a beautiful clear night.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TyXJ5DDAnbpNTx6yo7S5EFAv6NmC9-HJhJrUB5xjP4rmaRnRO8Faq0bn-E8KNmIE7njrBePbQPt-BdscpzYhqiIi8a-IDN1J3WhV8NH2ow7sDoyXs4Oliddm3XHKfGB6kQv0f2V4IjU/s1600/15965137_10106217359708113_2429621247261975819_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TyXJ5DDAnbpNTx6yo7S5EFAv6NmC9-HJhJrUB5xjP4rmaRnRO8Faq0bn-E8KNmIE7njrBePbQPt-BdscpzYhqiIi8a-IDN1J3WhV8NH2ow7sDoyXs4Oliddm3XHKfGB6kQv0f2V4IjU/s320/15965137_10106217359708113_2429621247261975819_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picture of us taking a very different type of public transportation.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Tip: When you fly to Managua by way of San Salvador, you will not need to go through any additional customs/immigration/security. However, when you fly back to the US by way of San Salvador, you will. So make sure you're not carrying on any big liquids (like, for example, a big bottle of flor de caña) with you when you're flying back.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">** The president's wife, Rosario Murillo, is a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosario_Murillo">fascinating</a> woman. Among other things, some Nicaraguans believe she is a witch.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-72342068144848474402017-05-29T12:35:00.001+09:002017-05-29T12:35:10.550+09:00Lima: Where Everything Went Wrong and Then Right: Part IIIWe arrived in Aguas Calientes, a small jungle village at the base of Macchu Pichu, in the evening and were met by the French owner of our B&B when we arrived at the train station.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Yjh2t8tfLZhmtSeNCzfFgV8RqiSedSgv8FOzrUSbyyJbKXYBkCZasdsDAUqGec2PHvR5VSG7mjSkp0aq-qYwKH0WcCzblB2nOyJ65G8PboMlp46aP48AzTAe-kpWxqIztX8NjpvV390/s1600/IMG_5743.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Yjh2t8tfLZhmtSeNCzfFgV8RqiSedSgv8FOzrUSbyyJbKXYBkCZasdsDAUqGec2PHvR5VSG7mjSkp0aq-qYwKH0WcCzblB2nOyJ65G8PboMlp46aP48AzTAe-kpWxqIztX8NjpvV390/s320/IMG_5743.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Our host asked us how we were planning to get to Macchu Pichu and we told him that we had bus tickets to the top of the mountain. He suggested that we walk up the mountain since it's beautiful and only takes an hour and a half (two hours if you're <i>very</i> slow, he said). Plus, to take the bus to the top you have to wait in line at the bus station for 3 hours. For our tour at 8am the next morning, we would have to get to the bus stop by 5am. We told our tour guide that we had decided to walk rather than take the bus and he told us to meet them at the entrance at 8am. He suggested we leave by 6am to get there on time. Pfsh, we thought, we're young and fit. We'll leave at 6:30. The next morning, we woke up, had breakfast, and left around 6:30. The B&B packed us a lunch to eat at Macchu Pichu and we headed out. The walk started off fairly easy and we quickly obtained two friends.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6U2BZTnN7sboimBXpc9924kwCSeLhgPrbc8g6a0Go4_i7xEi0JrCYqcf9OgmKJQ_kQbLkHfROAWs32Kocy7KuMw3C3YCrPBq7DxToCMm95L79Uzz2oaHx1PzFxz5haz2KoUaZJEJI1xI/s1600/IMG_5747.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6U2BZTnN7sboimBXpc9924kwCSeLhgPrbc8g6a0Go4_i7xEi0JrCYqcf9OgmKJQ_kQbLkHfROAWs32Kocy7KuMw3C3YCrPBq7DxToCMm95L79Uzz2oaHx1PzFxz5haz2KoUaZJEJI1xI/s320/IMG_5747.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHoK3BTxM9-odO9l7bpplPFMONoVrl2C33GdduRil92lPXUPzqfOvEKTbWjtB_5bFjx0u6Su4Uf_bmiT6dop8OwsV5Pv5JqseWL8Ip4IrI_EBhN0mH4gfEKrnpLkkyip5IA6DuscrBwc/s1600/IMG_5746.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHoK3BTxM9-odO9l7bpplPFMONoVrl2C33GdduRil92lPXUPzqfOvEKTbWjtB_5bFjx0u6Su4Uf_bmiT6dop8OwsV5Pv5JqseWL8Ip4IrI_EBhN0mH4gfEKrnpLkkyip5IA6DuscrBwc/s320/IMG_5746.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
J told me not to name them so I immediately dubbed them Marlin and Pookie.<br />
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We followed them (and the signs) up the mountain, which quickly became very steep.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT9JY4c3hdKPrTZeiR0il9TParuu2JvqI9ZbdnawAgIlHfVMpxvEHbxCS6xdHTvKGdI6-h8ek-xeWaKoMXTjYmpetIuamMVHCoM1XhcmCePOG_cSPTrAfV99XkHWIV2vbSbpJOQVTcWVY/s1600/IMG_5753.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT9JY4c3hdKPrTZeiR0il9TParuu2JvqI9ZbdnawAgIlHfVMpxvEHbxCS6xdHTvKGdI6-h8ek-xeWaKoMXTjYmpetIuamMVHCoM1XhcmCePOG_cSPTrAfV99XkHWIV2vbSbpJOQVTcWVY/s320/IMG_5753.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
About a half hour into our hike/climb, we realized that it was not going to be easy. As we peeled off layers of sweaters and jackets, we noticed that we hadn't seen any other tourists on the path. We had certainly heard many people that morning and we'd seen a Peruvian family stroll up the path easily, but other than that we were alone.<br />
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The view was stunning. We watched as the fog rolled off of the peaks.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTKt0mPXGSMNQhJVnwEsht_KxuO0ivmAXX943Bfzf5g__XH8qbac6BM3z9uvEzgadr9m-tgSbDojId8b4gAaxXbngGQMpp44jEeM5zbuDd8XBSrdev6XAEqf40HdAfmXqb6hx6SXHiE4/s1600/IMG_5757.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTKt0mPXGSMNQhJVnwEsht_KxuO0ivmAXX943Bfzf5g__XH8qbac6BM3z9uvEzgadr9m-tgSbDojId8b4gAaxXbngGQMpp44jEeM5zbuDd8XBSrdev6XAEqf40HdAfmXqb6hx6SXHiE4/s320/IMG_5757.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
At 7:30 we realized that we needed to start going a lot faster. We could see that we were not very close to the top. Breathless and shaking, we finally came to the top of the mountain and saw dozens of tour buses and hundreds of people milling around the entrance. As soon as we got to the entrance, I heard someone yelling my name. Our tour guide was yelling that we were late. It was 7:45. He yelled my name again. "Come on, you're late. We are starting soon." We quickly got in line and made our way to the tour. The tour began with a climb to the very top of Macchu Pichu.<br />
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After an exhilarating and exhausting day, we headed back to Cusco. We spent our last day in Cusco wandering around and eating Peruvian food.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ABlVWmZtFTwZP1KmqgjmEa8IbzxIR7LPvBXVAMQD6uZ17n0LIgw8IlrkqqN8r6lgtNIAQn-V7N88ej0EU0zk_tfPVB3PgxutWakLFJttlhO9NHzpO0lRAHfOZIxZWNAwFOAGOq-q6lY/s1600/IMG_5810.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ABlVWmZtFTwZP1KmqgjmEa8IbzxIR7LPvBXVAMQD6uZ17n0LIgw8IlrkqqN8r6lgtNIAQn-V7N88ej0EU0zk_tfPVB3PgxutWakLFJttlhO9NHzpO0lRAHfOZIxZWNAwFOAGOq-q6lY/s320/IMG_5810.JPG" width="320" /></a>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-25043426291258150072017-03-11T02:51:00.001+09:002017-03-11T02:51:22.371+09:00Lima: Where Everything Went Wrong and Then Right: Part IIOn August 11th, we headed to Cusco. Our plan was to head to the Ministry of Culture as soon as possible to see if they had any tickets left. Fortunately I had (or thought that I had) arranged for an airport transfer with our hotel. Unfortunately, no one came to pick us up and we made our way to the hotel on our own.<br />
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Cusco is a wonderful city filled with stunning cobblestone streets and surrounded by mountains on all sides. It is also located at around 11,000 feet above sea level. Because of the altitude, we struggled to walk without needing to stop to gasp for air. We were also a little bit achey and nauseous. However, we were determined to find tickets to Machu Picchu, so we walked determinedly around the streets of Cusco popping our heads into each of the myriad travel agencies as we walked by and asking about tickets (and then stopping to gasp for air). At first, we had no luck. "You need to buy them in Aguas Calientes," they all told us. Finally, we came across a small luggage store that had a few signs saying that they also organized tours. It was a tiny little place with two women inside chatting in Spanish, one holding a baby. "What about this place?", I asked J. He said "I don't know. It doesn't look very professional." We stood outside the door debating for about five minutes in the 30 degree Cusco evening. Finally, one of the two women inside peeked her head outside and said "Yes?" and we said, "umm tickets to Machu Picchu?" and she said "Yes! Come in, sit down" and she ushered away the other woman, taking the baby from her and setting it in a baby seat (I think that's what they're called).<br />
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The woman told us she could get us tickets to Machu Picchu and hire a tour guide for us. Also, she organized bus tickets to and from the train station which was located about 2 hours outside of Cusco. She offered a number of other tours that we probably would have done if we'd had more time. It all seemed a little too good to be true. Then she asked us to pay in cash in US dollars. We thought there was probably a 50% chance it was a scam but also that it was our best chance of getting to see Machu Picchu. The total price for everything was fairly low so we figured it was worth the risk. We paid her and she told us that she would bring us all of the tickets the next day at 1pm and then take us to the bus station where we could catch the bus to the train station.<br />
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The next day, we waited outside our hotel at 1pm as requested. A small car stopped in the middle of a busy street and the woman appeared, holding a baby in one hand and an envelope in another. She came running across the street to meet us. "I have everything for you. Please review and then we will go to the bus station." I opened the envelope and two tickets to Machu Picchu for August 25th were inside along with our bus tickets. I pointed out the wrong date to her and she said not to worry and that they would definitely let us in on August 13th. Then she called her husband who had driven around the block a few times while we reviewed the documents. He picked us up and the four of us squeezed into the back of his car while their older son sat in the front passenger seat.<br />
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While we were driving along, ostensibly to the bus station, the woman continued to yell at her husband a few times in Spanish, probably something about how he needed to hurry because our train left in 3 hours. Instead of taking us to a bus station, however, they drove us to a parking lot. At this point I thought it was about a 90% chance we were getting scammed and a 50% chance we were also getting mugged and/or kidnapped. The woman got out of the car and talked to a man standing in the parking lot. She gave him some cash and then told us to get out of her husband's car and into this other man's car. We did as we were told.<br />
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About an hour and a later, after driving through the slums of Cusco, numerous rural villages and winding mountain streets, we arrived at Ollantaytambo train station. "Your train is there," he pointed out. We got out of the car and he drove away. "How are we getting back?" J asked. It was a question for another day.<br />
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Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-67960537940029049302016-08-29T11:21:00.000+09:002016-08-29T11:21:44.986+09:00Lima: Where Everything Went Wrong and Then Right: Part II know I haven't written about my last few trips but I very much would like to share my wacky and wonderful trip to Peru. Things went wrong pretty much every step of the trip but somehow it all worked out in the end.<br />
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We flew to Lima by way of Mexico City and after about 20 hours of traveling arrived in Lima at 7am. I didn't sleep along the way and was looking forward to taking a nap. We had booked a short-term apartment rental and arrived at the apartment in good time since there wasn't much traffic that early on a Sunday morning. We walked into the reception area and I handed the reservation information to the man behind the front desk. He looked at me puzzled and asked me some questions in Spanish. Since it had been a while since I had taken Spanish and hadn't slept in around 30 hours, I looked back at him puzzled. His friend pulled out a translator app on his phone and a number of strangely translated questions later ("your contract is here?", "you would like to view the apartment?"), we were not much closer to an understanding. Then he said, "Guillermo" and handed me his phone. Guillermo was the owner of the apartment and a number of other apartments in the building and explained that the apartment wasn't ready yet. Oh and he also noted that I had booked it for August 8th through the 11th and wasn't today August 7th? Whoops!* He was able to extend our reservation for August 7th and then very nicely drove us to a Starbucks and showed us around a little bit. OK, just a little hiccup and no big deal. Everything worked out in the end. Here are some pictures of Barranco District, Lima where our apartment was located.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18NLFDL9rCifyM80y8wf-X6SReczvKo_Kz3yLzRn7D87zOh9CL3g6pxtI-owao4g6BcuevDMd2CTgRcnmYLK2_iwJc4mgIS0qASdcw0LWF6BUIYHTopnsbMPFW14NYhWtf0SKHqdiDFU/s1600/IMG_1051.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU86CgeCJocBdgDwD3dVDosS6t0Uzu0pE4__HEl_woOvJub_UX7MDe6mokM3nKn4FK73PsIMlrCsVVyo4Q7XNHMuWWqCw8xH-vkbUA9E8lbUljhINHCphGA7Ch5eDngr7WDUVDL1z5V0/s1600/IMG_5694.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU86CgeCJocBdgDwD3dVDosS6t0Uzu0pE4__HEl_woOvJub_UX7MDe6mokM3nKn4FK73PsIMlrCsVVyo4Q7XNHMuWWqCw8xH-vkbUA9E8lbUljhINHCphGA7Ch5eDngr7WDUVDL1z5V0/s320/IMG_5694.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18NLFDL9rCifyM80y8wf-X6SReczvKo_Kz3yLzRn7D87zOh9CL3g6pxtI-owao4g6BcuevDMd2CTgRcnmYLK2_iwJc4mgIS0qASdcw0LWF6BUIYHTopnsbMPFW14NYhWtf0SKHqdiDFU/s320/IMG_1051.JPG" width="320" /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNNOJKg_7g_loyTGjIiTHElMki_bTUAEnvEvcRmGzLOgonzRA-H4DRzPEhLJzcravfio_sozRROS80GZuB416hLicGZpVfH7pYud_UFc3ScKyvbbZdiH8J5gTUv-rEOBvr08O4REDbVU/s1600/IMG_1074.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNNOJKg_7g_loyTGjIiTHElMki_bTUAEnvEvcRmGzLOgonzRA-H4DRzPEhLJzcravfio_sozRROS80GZuB416hLicGZpVfH7pYud_UFc3ScKyvbbZdiH8J5gTUv-rEOBvr08O4REDbVU/s320/IMG_1074.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Barranco is a lovely little neighborhood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Though it was overcast our entire time in Lima, the temperature was moderate (a nice change from the heat and humidity of Chicago) and we wandered around for hours each day. There was fascinating architecture all over the place and plenty of cafes and restaurants in which to stuff our faces.<br />
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While we were waiting for Guillermo to get the apartment ready, we decided to go over our other reservations to make sure that everything else was in order. Because getting to Machu Picchu is quite complicated and requires a carefully orchestrated set of trains, planes, buses and hikes, we had attempted to plan everything in advance. It was also the busy season and tickets to Machu Picchu sold out months in advance. The Ministry of Culture in Peru only permits 2,500 visitors to the site per day in order to reduce the amount of wear and tear on the ruins. Fortunately, I had (or at least thought that I had) booked our tickets in advance. As we went through the various reservations and confirmations, I remembered that I had <i>reserved</i> tickets to Machu Picchu but had not yet paid for them because the website was being buggy. According to the Ministry of Culture website, you could pay for reserved tickets in person in Cusco or Aguas Calientes, the nearest town to Machu Picchu. Phew, no worries, I thought.<br />
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Then I noticed on the Ministry of Culture website that you only had 24 hours to pay for reserved tickets after which they were cancelled. Uh-oh. We decided to check to see if we could obtain new tickets in case the previously reserved ones had been cancelled, but there were no tickets available the day we were going to be there...or within one week of that date. Perhaps a travel agent could hook us up? We found a few travel agencies in Peru and reached out to a few of them. No tickets available. "Maybe check in Cusco," they said. I reached out to our hotel in Cusco who had a travel agency. No tickets in Cusco, they said, "maybe check Aguas Calientes" (the town that was the closest to Machu Picchu).<br />
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Well, we had three days left in Lima and didn't want to spoil our time there worrying. We napped, wandered, and ate our way through the city. Lima is a super foodie town. In addition, everyone was super friendly and patient and they indulged my efforts to converse in Spanish when possible. We visited local ruins at Huaca Pucllana, the site of an ancient pyramid built by the pre-Incan Lima people and later taken over by the Wari people (also a site of human sacrifices).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4GyuHUIUSljxUem_yX6w45UBKN1F3sUGpOAXnWQTlyUQo4CQ9sOlXQJ2GrUUZ6zUuDJcGKzqIBFpbD0vozanEhMN-SeCt3_4RSx3s75P5TlYcoN6oM-qg4MpYOmYqijEkqYaoVwoCZM/s1600/IMG_5708.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4GyuHUIUSljxUem_yX6w45UBKN1F3sUGpOAXnWQTlyUQo4CQ9sOlXQJ2GrUUZ6zUuDJcGKzqIBFpbD0vozanEhMN-SeCt3_4RSx3s75P5TlYcoN6oM-qg4MpYOmYqijEkqYaoVwoCZM/s320/IMG_5708.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
We also visited the wonderful Larco Museum which contained a ton of beautiful and fascinating artifacts as well as an entire wing devoted to erotic art.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyAnbX7OnyWQWyhxdBJYPD_G7gcn-7rUaGv4rwIf0uxtp5tH_tE5Uh6uw08lZq4HeA-1qAn3K_uO1WjzuV_kY5pAnEdtT5HVwl7syL6MTI1wMa7O7oizXuNLFdDSUZseIvDhdxwY4nLE/s1600/IMG_1095.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyAnbX7OnyWQWyhxdBJYPD_G7gcn-7rUaGv4rwIf0uxtp5tH_tE5Uh6uw08lZq4HeA-1qAn3K_uO1WjzuV_kY5pAnEdtT5HVwl7syL6MTI1wMa7O7oizXuNLFdDSUZseIvDhdxwY4nLE/s320/IMG_1095.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGeFGeMfyOz7K6MRE4HQOjuGYvlU4f7nRKyP_2HZje-Zn_QEViwC3Qjje2Mu_fF48WXgfK8Ocz4fo07KY91HK-3Dx1RgeDmGuRCAiKcMya8eU9WFkHh4dxWAmIBprrmYVuAnKcFFiT2c/s1600/IMG_1109.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGeFGeMfyOz7K6MRE4HQOjuGYvlU4f7nRKyP_2HZje-Zn_QEViwC3Qjje2Mu_fF48WXgfK8Ocz4fo07KY91HK-3Dx1RgeDmGuRCAiKcMya8eU9WFkHh4dxWAmIBprrmYVuAnKcFFiT2c/s320/IMG_1109.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Lima was delicious. Here are some pictures of the things we stuffed in our faces.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNB8ZyLW_Buur0pJayMVEC3pU0OnyztjDGYi0kHaLBA0UBRBIJFinC_q7A9XJ-0xMjtWOVH5Bwhk1uaObbByLioAoZi_hVrHqPIN_gnvStX78XEajUd3nWyueky4SuNrr46LJrqjkQAg/s1600/IMG_1080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNB8ZyLW_Buur0pJayMVEC3pU0OnyztjDGYi0kHaLBA0UBRBIJFinC_q7A9XJ-0xMjtWOVH5Bwhk1uaObbByLioAoZi_hVrHqPIN_gnvStX78XEajUd3nWyueky4SuNrr46LJrqjkQAg/s320/IMG_1080.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pisco Sours.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peruvian fish and chips (yucca).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delightful "monster" sandwiches. That face is "why are you taking a picture of me eating a sandwich" and not "this sandwich tastes funny".</td></tr>
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Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-67003259950022712462012-10-15T23:49:00.001+09:002012-10-15T23:49:18.729+09:00ExpatriaIt's been a while since I posted about travel and over a year since I left for South Africa. I do miss it. But while I used to believe that I loved traveling, I now realize that I miss something different. It isn't just going abroad that I enjoy, but the permanence of living abroad. Traveling can be eye-opening and wonderful, but it can easily become a tireless trek from attraction to attraction. There's nothing wrong with that, of course - many of my trips abroad have been just that, but after a while it can be stressful and exhausting. And often at the end, I don't feel like I ever really knew the place. I think what I most enjoy about going abroad is immersing myself in something different. When living abroad, every mundane task becomes an adventure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENySKdJjHDh5GUn7qfcHgqXZCzLQJsBj1M3SSb1z05HyjwcCvPVPAgydVsOz8CbuFtc6Ab1h1_RbkgCpLyiY6kAasA-gMpR98WoPEF8MMZFcNoDekpIo5Mknr65vkeQYDWpzY8jisQwg/s1600/IMG_1594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENySKdJjHDh5GUn7qfcHgqXZCzLQJsBj1M3SSb1z05HyjwcCvPVPAgydVsOz8CbuFtc6Ab1h1_RbkgCpLyiY6kAasA-gMpR98WoPEF8MMZFcNoDekpIo5Mknr65vkeQYDWpzY8jisQwg/s400/IMG_1594.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first attempt at buying a trash bag in Seoul. Instead of buying a ten liter bag, I bought a one hundred liter bag.</td></tr>
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Take opening a bank account. I opened an account in Bordeaux when I studied abroad and in Seoul when I taught there. They produced two very different experiences that I believe taught me more about those countries than visits to a vineyard or noraebang. In France, as with just about everything there, it was a bureaucratic hassle. Armed with an EU citizenship, a French residence, registration as a student at a local university, and decent French language skills, it still took over a week and mounds of paperwork just to set up an appointment to meet with the bank manager. When I finally had my appointment, she asked me a number of questions, had me sign a lot of contracts I didn't understand, and finally granted me an account. From start to finish, it took two weeks. In Seoul, on the other hand, it was swift and efficient. I showed up just before closing, asked if they had anyone who spoke English (they did), handed over my passport, and within a matter of minutes had a fully functioning bank account. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZUQy3MbyFlUSmQ-IFJ3yqeTEthqpkSxyVeLeJSsFCJum5ZYCQEQF8tFViIe-k9UZaQJofr_T8ZAYIbiQmEzYod6GWjySMWJzCGFzT9QwIqQ3SzyC1HzbZ1KTIvB6lvvcp8BCQxU2uSg/s1600/DSC00898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZUQy3MbyFlUSmQ-IFJ3yqeTEthqpkSxyVeLeJSsFCJum5ZYCQEQF8tFViIe-k9UZaQJofr_T8ZAYIbiQmEzYod6GWjySMWJzCGFzT9QwIqQ3SzyC1HzbZ1KTIvB6lvvcp8BCQxU2uSg/s320/DSC00898.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My kitchen in Bordeaux. It wasn't long before I learned the words for "mouse droppings" - "crotte de souris."</td></tr>
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Closing my bank accounts produced just as different, and just as telling, experiences. In Bordeaux, the bank teller, who had come to know me well from my visits to the ATM, was shocked when I told him I wanted to close my account. "Why not leave it open for when you come back?" he said. "I don't know when I'll be back," I answered. His face fell. "But you just moved here." I told him that I'd been studying abroad and had to return to my college back home. He shook my hand, wished me well in life, and encouraged me to return. It was an oddly sentimental ending to what I'd considered only a business relationship. In Seoul, closing the account was as easy as opening it. No one knew me or cared that I was leaving after almost a year in the country. Fifteen minutes and a few quick entries into a system and my account was dissolved as if it had never existed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLo-Ip5r_lpnDTesw1Bhnbq2JhlN2YyOcQQfZB72TgENXZeYgnKcIw4z8H1B7sc3O-oXBst0WabRQP9lQE8ckSoSUR6VfJ2TBsevFU-vtl1J32VnqjbGb06lejDtojnTVwfiAgqWrCmhs/s1600/IMG_1528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLo-Ip5r_lpnDTesw1Bhnbq2JhlN2YyOcQQfZB72TgENXZeYgnKcIw4z8H1B7sc3O-oXBst0WabRQP9lQE8ckSoSUR6VfJ2TBsevFU-vtl1J32VnqjbGb06lejDtojnTVwfiAgqWrCmhs/s320/IMG_1528.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Korea, prescriptions come in daily portions, so that you don't have to worry about what to take when. Unfortunately, it also means that if one of the drugs upsets your stomach you have no way of knowing which one to stop taking.</td></tr>
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When I was in France, this experience and others taught me that the French eschew shallow relationships. Sometimes appearing unfriendly, they rarely chat with the person next to them in line or welcome the new foreign student. But once a relationship is established, it runs deep. In Seoul, on the other hand, people are warm and welcoming to visitors and it is easy to strike up a conversation with someone at the park or on the street. But at the end of the day, Seoul is a mega-city in which millions of people engage in millions of transactions every day. A foreigner closing a bank account does not elicit much interest.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2U1UkhKQdngrJJhGLqLoNObwvj4NC7c0nCgd0vhXransxZpNIGgbN-mhLyQb2Auf3oY1UVoYteSxnUyY15vCCLwMPn9T236ZY-RnHIPBErv9KeH7qBYLgrQBAtClR1S1ZhMt0llf8N0/s1600/DSC01094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2U1UkhKQdngrJJhGLqLoNObwvj4NC7c0nCgd0vhXransxZpNIGgbN-mhLyQb2Auf3oY1UVoYteSxnUyY15vCCLwMPn9T236ZY-RnHIPBErv9KeH7qBYLgrQBAtClR1S1ZhMt0llf8N0/s320/DSC01094.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotsmen really do wear kilts! </td></tr>
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What I like about living abroad is the reduced pressure to rush around taking pictures of iconic attractions in a span of a few days or weeks. I like that living abroad creates unexpected hiccups and surprise friends. To that end, I think I'd rather live in a few places than visit many.Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-73198595572088992182011-12-22T19:20:00.000+09:002012-02-15T12:55:47.218+09:00Cape Town and other Beautiful ThingsI'd been told by a few South Africans that Cape Town was the most beautiful city in the world. It was a superlative I'd heard before from people in various countries talking about various cities. My co-interns and I were skeptical. Between the three of us, we'd traveled to six of the seven continents and seen quite a number of beautiful cities. And yet, as I'd found a number of times during my trip to South Africa, the place rarely underwhelms. <br />
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Cape Town couldn't be more different from Johannesburg. Where Jozy is urban, gated, and fast-paced, Cape Town is beachy, open, and slow.* It has beautiful geography, including the famous Table Mountain. Unfortunately, while we were there, the cable car that goes to the top of the mountain was under repair, so we had to hike up it. We were warned that it was quite a tough 4-hour climb, but our 20-something selves said "psh." Climbing to the top of Table Mountain was sort of like doing 2000 lunges up boulders of seemingly increasing size. Fortunately, the hike was worth it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see one of the World Cup stadiums to the left.</td></tr>
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Interestingly, climbing down Table Mountain was also like doing 2000 lunges, except instead of putting all my weight on my quads, I put it on my knees. I'd recommend taking the cable car.<br />
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Cape Town also has fascinating history. District Six, a township in Cape Town, was the inspiration for the movie District 9. In addition, Nelson Mandela was famously imprisoned on Robben Island, about 30 minutes off the coast of Cape Town, for 18 years before being transferred to a mainland prison for another 10 years.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of the tour guides are former political prisoners.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recreational area for prisoners</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBT4D29YyEVXt2tBBfwuTy0dSAlAP3esXsxL0BZntE_wlyPOivFGGx3fAABNDj7gCe7m-B64jsoRN-grp4WKGwqIG-480kRRZZknkoLReloNcpxzcF_FvuPtUdk9-b6AcgUh_ScK7-_s/s1600/IMG_3838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBT4D29YyEVXt2tBBfwuTy0dSAlAP3esXsxL0BZntE_wlyPOivFGGx3fAABNDj7gCe7m-B64jsoRN-grp4WKGwqIG-480kRRZZknkoLReloNcpxzcF_FvuPtUdk9-b6AcgUh_ScK7-_s/s640/IMG_3838.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view wasn't so bad from outside the prison. Table Mountain in the distance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nelson Mandela's cell.</td></tr>
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They also have a wharf that is arguably much better than Fisherman's Wharf.** No, there aren't any smelly sea lions, but they do have nifty sculptures.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Made entirely out of Coca-Cola crates.</td></tr>
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While many cities can claim to be near the
ocean, Cape Town can claim two: the Indian and Atlantic meet a few miles south of the city at Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope. To get down the cape, there's a highway that winds its way along the coast, much like the Pacific Coast Highway in the US. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt like the area practically photographed itself.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeqVbrocI6TZ9UeByillopbFbn2gTmUqR4zPBb5vWkLXNoOt3ANgR0E7eyiDUcGVYO1gkEl7JJ4m6QuhffmuZfgzOmWXvib-8L40wNaKgayM6i1xCLm8c3srlhA4KCe0YsillIabV76Q/s1600/IMG_3882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeqVbrocI6TZ9UeByillopbFbn2gTmUqR4zPBb5vWkLXNoOt3ANgR0E7eyiDUcGVYO1gkEl7JJ4m6QuhffmuZfgzOmWXvib-8L40wNaKgayM6i1xCLm8c3srlhA4KCe0YsillIabV76Q/s400/IMG_3882.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just like me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild ostriches</td></tr>
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The area is also known for its fauna. About halfway between Cape Town and Cape Point is Simon's Town. The city used to be an important naval site and is now known for its penguin and great white shark populations. Since I was forbidden from swimming the sharks (lame!) I hung out with the penguins instead.<br />
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Also, if you're a sandwich fan, I have to say that I had pretty much the best sandwich I've ever had in Cape Town.*** Called the Gatsby, it was apparently created by the residents of the nearby township, the Cape Flats, who used to put any food they could find between two slices of bread. Today, the Gatsby is usually meat, salad, and french fries on a large subway roll and with a delicious sauce on top. I ordered a "half Gatsby" and the woman behind the counter asked me how many pieces I wanted it cut into. I didn't really understand what she meant until I saw the thing. A half Gatsby is probably the largest sandwich I've ever ordered, half or whole. I got about two-thirds into it before collapsing into a stuffed heap.<br />
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In case you couldn't tell, Cape Town is awesome. The most beautiful city in the world? Maybe.<br />
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<b>Other-non-Cape-Town-but-still-beautiful-things</b><br />
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At the end of our safari in Kruger, our safari guide took us to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blyde_River_Canyon">Blyde River Canyon</a>, one of the largest canyons in the world. Yet another feature of the wonderful Drakensberg, the Blyde River Canyon also contains the Three Rondavels, Lucky's Potholes, and a view from the top of the canyon known as God's Window.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We went on a walk and stumbled across some kudu.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone let me captain the boat cruise??!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hippo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterfall that sorta looks like a crying monkey.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIUn95V5JJe0xk4JYkTaB1yKVEj6W__SRaaT5lu2bC3MDn3hVnu_cJxAly88gX17Pmmm5k8iCrk6OBUpetbNq0_jFuGFzRSaK7l74ueRMGfyQGT9hetiyhiule2qbm5CVUTDMPfb4F8Q/s1600/IMG_4254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIUn95V5JJe0xk4JYkTaB1yKVEj6W__SRaaT5lu2bC3MDn3hVnu_cJxAly88gX17Pmmm5k8iCrk6OBUpetbNq0_jFuGFzRSaK7l74ueRMGfyQGT9hetiyhiule2qbm5CVUTDMPfb4F8Q/s400/IMG_4254.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We stayed in the canyon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing an old bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We drove by the Three Rondavels.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucky's potholes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The inside of a pothole.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CZ25qVZm7q1Z5W89ffD51TP1FXy6A4yBGKy_TOZK_HSg3mxMMXs9YMV57d55T96ig57nlpq-DwwZfBvsJFEZqRPWMyMn8t8aN88oQ78dwj8igAb-gtrMnpASR5x5k87Ps764hoNhXV8/s1600/IMG_4291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CZ25qVZm7q1Z5W89ffD51TP1FXy6A4yBGKy_TOZK_HSg3mxMMXs9YMV57d55T96ig57nlpq-DwwZfBvsJFEZqRPWMyMn8t8aN88oQ78dwj8igAb-gtrMnpASR5x5k87Ps764hoNhXV8/s400/IMG_4291.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We also paid a visit to God's Window.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigsjB_nYCYHRN-oYCZQrDoCfE9jZxeUKIIUAG6S3arzRID3Af4isvrLOFm7nXNFC5s0z2aEarZlVpgcYZImP9qo_asFOJYw0hWsGxP7HyjWYrwrzm4HhkR0RDPmFVS889GilqKUE-p1mA/s1600/IMG_4294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigsjB_nYCYHRN-oYCZQrDoCfE9jZxeUKIIUAG6S3arzRID3Af4isvrLOFm7nXNFC5s0z2aEarZlVpgcYZImP9qo_asFOJYw0hWsGxP7HyjWYrwrzm4HhkR0RDPmFVS889GilqKUE-p1mA/s640/IMG_4294.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from God's window.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGU04MAAAjhlzmafn-RyDQM42_FJOIo_r32IlfBY7xLyP4UWEiH4qY0f1sAw0g6pCmjBPhJQUNBo3fKkyxydEz-jTTch8iL9vE7BXDZQgFtQ9YRxh1njYOIwQ-IJVDafD8tZ4PxMoj6xs/s1600/IMG_4300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGU04MAAAjhlzmafn-RyDQM42_FJOIo_r32IlfBY7xLyP4UWEiH4qY0f1sAw0g6pCmjBPhJQUNBo3fKkyxydEz-jTTch8iL9vE7BXDZQgFtQ9YRxh1njYOIwQ-IJVDafD8tZ4PxMoj6xs/s640/IMG_4300.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Someone told us that things don't get started until around 2PM there. Sounds like my kind of place.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**There were actually a lot of similarities between Cape Town and San Francisco - laid-back, beautiful scenery, infamous island prison. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***That's right, better than a kebab.****</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****OK, I take it back, maybe not better than a kebab. But it's definitely up there. </span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-6825774895020505802011-12-17T16:17:00.001+09:002011-12-20T17:12:08.887+09:00The Country Part II: Dragon Mountain<div style="text-align: left;">
Not long after my research trip, I returned to KZN, this time for pleasure. One of the attorneys at our NGO, L, offered to host the interns at her family's chalet in the Drakensberg ("Dragon Mountain" in Afrikaans). Ever since I'd read the following description of it in Lonely Planet, I knew I wanted to go to the 'Berg: "If any landscape lives up to its airbrushed, publicity-shot alter ego, it is the jagged, green sweep of the Drakensberg."</div>
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I was particularly excited when L's parents mentioned that they'd spent the weekend chasing baboons out of the chalet. When they saw the huge goofy smile on my face, they'd replied grimly: "Baboons are aggressive." <i>Maybe I'll get to hug one</i>, I thought to myself. </div>
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A long, winding drive later, we arrived at the chalet. In the mailbox was this letter:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgugnOFqLN8PathdsIXwE8cnPW89K9KE8UxHLkvo0E3gKEvFDjGskqXfYAxYMkb5jpJumancMhQLRJwZdYdTaF1gkWlJDP4gj6hyphenhyphenTZZVuNtThI898iStOwhcORfooFbaPOCmAtovGSVU/s1600/IMG_3726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgugnOFqLN8PathdsIXwE8cnPW89K9KE8UxHLkvo0E3gKEvFDjGskqXfYAxYMkb5jpJumancMhQLRJwZdYdTaF1gkWlJDP4gj6hyphenhyphenTZZVuNtThI898iStOwhcORfooFbaPOCmAtovGSVU/s400/IMG_3726.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I read: <i>Leave bananas in your room if you want to cuddle with baboons.</i></td></tr>
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When we arrived during the night, it was hard to see exactly where we were in relation to the mountains. By the light of the morning, it became obvious.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-u-JT6ZWvh7rQ7f1NCiRxYFu60cVQKcSSGAyq9aOduQj-WrU8movIoS0laNuj0J1v7N-kmaMLTHi8-VHBJsU8S7FM6_IyRBcKlA3IjUpKUR4WOTLZYDRU3EuEg1d-0kkUIcqkKFiCJh0/s1600/IMG_3723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-u-JT6ZWvh7rQ7f1NCiRxYFu60cVQKcSSGAyq9aOduQj-WrU8movIoS0laNuj0J1v7N-kmaMLTHi8-VHBJsU8S7FM6_IyRBcKlA3IjUpKUR4WOTLZYDRU3EuEg1d-0kkUIcqkKFiCJh0/s400/IMG_3723.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A room with a view</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlW2dPg3Uhe1zQFFmhLHq8bS48Ry_JnRjtet4hRYqmbxtS052u5vkeHWNah1YgU2rzoCQvT18hjyezfbtrqAvOIo9nTtYNkolXxWnLcgzRg24E7cBgDv08XWPTqR-2tt619yt2WcRLks/s1600/IMG_3724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlW2dPg3Uhe1zQFFmhLHq8bS48Ry_JnRjtet4hRYqmbxtS052u5vkeHWNah1YgU2rzoCQvT18hjyezfbtrqAvOIo9nTtYNkolXxWnLcgzRg24E7cBgDv08XWPTqR-2tt619yt2WcRLks/s400/IMG_3724.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The Drakensberg was our backyard!<br />
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Signs of zebra dung near the deck of the chalet had us on the hunt. Apparently there was a herd that roamed the area.<br />
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The scenery was stunning and before long we found the zebra herd (i.e. three zebras). We followed them closely, hoping for a zebra encounter <span style="font-size: x-small;">of the striped kind</span>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4MulLaG4klXRrPlGWvrGaEm1tUEfIguqy2dzRIIsBTuaRdQYsmqvoCV_HwqTifTOcmXZAByADOQEJDfu_uxcYeje9XUpced56jBGcnlWy9N8s_ZilFPn3gXMVvwtLaq7MUbE4LfXm8A/s1600/IMG_3731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4MulLaG4klXRrPlGWvrGaEm1tUEfIguqy2dzRIIsBTuaRdQYsmqvoCV_HwqTifTOcmXZAByADOQEJDfu_uxcYeje9XUpced56jBGcnlWy9N8s_ZilFPn3gXMVvwtLaq7MUbE4LfXm8A/s400/IMG_3731.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpBACONsRhGKO5BuSADmHCzadNgOWgW_yB2LzO3WEdrq8CZxVSyvV-JrIDtflpB1oqMizRUT8Himk1NdEqsMLh378LTQ8CIs9YukONA-fbT7DjTAlunQRrSxphfT0oIOgp9yo_Ojk594/s1600/IMG_3735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpBACONsRhGKO5BuSADmHCzadNgOWgW_yB2LzO3WEdrq8CZxVSyvV-JrIDtflpB1oqMizRUT8Himk1NdEqsMLh378LTQ8CIs9YukONA-fbT7DjTAlunQRrSxphfT0oIOgp9yo_Ojk594/s400/IMG_3735.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They were gracious enough to pose for my pictures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizqhcATSZC2For6OsBhLq6EbGRgs8wW98e_tDgR76ncIXzUbV2nxnyL_RAZXOKvfH4NdtJ55dUnyz3mQtlueJJRkFdZrTlR_r108g9AqpeP1bJeF7TfgDx-kTK_C9_hVI_l47wGkEjl2U/s1600/IMG_3737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizqhcATSZC2For6OsBhLq6EbGRgs8wW98e_tDgR76ncIXzUbV2nxnyL_RAZXOKvfH4NdtJ55dUnyz3mQtlueJJRkFdZrTlR_r108g9AqpeP1bJeF7TfgDx-kTK_C9_hVI_l47wGkEjl2U/s640/IMG_3737.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">D, the zebras, and the Drakensberg</td></tr>
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The zebras never got close enough to pet (or ride) so we went on a hike instead. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV8etZC41Mm5JzMJ507HwUl85WJmBdI5BIfb_BxDWWywofcz-QOJs22y-ME801TSbnh-iWaBfd5cfryBx07mvLJ_29YIxJ2Of1FlNj-NY8sCmuQjwY_ndzsSOZXmYVqrVeetpc_vE5ek/s1600/IMG_3742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV8etZC41Mm5JzMJ507HwUl85WJmBdI5BIfb_BxDWWywofcz-QOJs22y-ME801TSbnh-iWaBfd5cfryBx07mvLJ_29YIxJ2Of1FlNj-NY8sCmuQjwY_ndzsSOZXmYVqrVeetpc_vE5ek/s320/IMG_3742.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting around pesky fences with old wooden ladders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyhEna6KMI_INwV_fcbprKcZSBBw0bGk5D9hKAvIsReTD0E0JxZXLsQcjee1tn7xqWOe2dcupsAhV_cX2R2mIZzUs9tNf1E8iCSc1skUYHebH5UtrpuhuoYZyHuIQdr8B1hX-qPp7E0o/s1600/IMG_3745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyhEna6KMI_INwV_fcbprKcZSBBw0bGk5D9hKAvIsReTD0E0JxZXLsQcjee1tn7xqWOe2dcupsAhV_cX2R2mIZzUs9tNf1E8iCSc1skUYHebH5UtrpuhuoYZyHuIQdr8B1hX-qPp7E0o/s640/IMG_3745.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We watched two foolish individuals walk across the raging waterfall.</td></tr>
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<tr align="left"><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvMqNdScoa7Y7VQVfibgKwM2glJ3dWWhnlNcpm4h7nIlOfyVCl8I_cue2Zwiyir5cEtQ6iym5lVM7j3i5tJ-AGjMWYVfTvRyNgLpSOmzdzu7tn_OokeCRRl5v0WcfkG4o_uwE7_ggbfM/s1600/IMG_3751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvMqNdScoa7Y7VQVfibgKwM2glJ3dWWhnlNcpm4h7nIlOfyVCl8I_cue2Zwiyir5cEtQ6iym5lVM7j3i5tJ-AGjMWYVfTvRyNgLpSOmzdzu7tn_OokeCRRl5v0WcfkG4o_uwE7_ggbfM/s400/IMG_3751.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then we did it too.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EPAOhj04tkutdptSETcCVx3qlaNTAt9XybbcQyr9nVj-HTbLQ4xgxWcJ3YprNjRXNonyD9niZHmA4CzJU6rh5pxQP9pczJ8rxsTUYej9MEzUBsuJmksaUbCzegUNr_nmdTqydV7QhDY/s1600/IMG_3750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EPAOhj04tkutdptSETcCVx3qlaNTAt9XybbcQyr9nVj-HTbLQ4xgxWcJ3YprNjRXNonyD9niZHmA4CzJU6rh5pxQP9pczJ8rxsTUYej9MEzUBsuJmksaUbCzegUNr_nmdTqydV7QhDY/s400/IMG_3750.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We lay on our bellies and peeked over the edge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhntHpiT3COlFLiO0AGs4humrWOwHSWDEvAc_Ez5p5CHt3WTSBfrcpTY9Y4rXrfDKNkJS3znc3b6JM0WN_xaSxFGdiLQrnOAtNUHvwEN_aLQj83AM_YDjA1ZKzXrl8wrWFxdQV_4SM68k/s1600/IMG_3758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhntHpiT3COlFLiO0AGs4humrWOwHSWDEvAc_Ez5p5CHt3WTSBfrcpTY9Y4rXrfDKNkJS3znc3b6JM0WN_xaSxFGdiLQrnOAtNUHvwEN_aLQj83AM_YDjA1ZKzXrl8wrWFxdQV_4SM68k/s400/IMG_3758.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water was clean enough to drink, so we scooped it in our hands and tasted the sweet dragon mountain water.</td></tr>
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That night, I had my first braai. We had boervors, chakalaka, and Mrs. Ball's chutney. <br />
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Alas, we left seeing neither friendly nor rogue baboon. Nonetheless, the Drakensberg was quite wondrous, and as we drove back home to the city, a sunset followed alongside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvBWlU_nv11W-0NPv6S4WtgoMNwnt9Lg_hdoo9q5cvMNsIj5hxS2w9fIo38RHvTlw36Un93triLtmH03g2NvXNOwwzgLtFWHRLxxAYAoeKV6Ui9nXhiC_-AGyKO9P8CmAgihyxvwWA2k/s1600/IMG_3762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvBWlU_nv11W-0NPv6S4WtgoMNwnt9Lg_hdoo9q5cvMNsIj5hxS2w9fIo38RHvTlw36Un93triLtmH03g2NvXNOwwzgLtFWHRLxxAYAoeKV6Ui9nXhiC_-AGyKO9P8CmAgihyxvwWA2k/s400/IMG_3762.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">*** In all seriousness, baboons are very dangerous; do not pet, cuddle, or play Scrabble with them. And do not attempt to ride a zebra. Their stripes make you look fat.***</span> </span></div>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-15953452630996395232011-12-15T00:30:00.000+09:002011-12-22T06:43:30.411+09:00The Country Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiwMpP4ie3Ah1WtsCJ4bx_iI85-Ll2GYbZd3lhjv0kouo_Cr9nyS0v3ibhd9F6inb-iDSHdVEqQn1hu2_ksTIfdXSJg42-sVyHeurTEtmz65MgmmQfG2RHhH6YbA3yW-vgjCXJDaADBY/s1600/IMG_3389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3-K3H_We8mbG90Di9hf-om-pJXgIq4QB5J73cB695Jpl9zQqBFeiyTogq4DTNblztG2o31WdVNpbJLjUENYk6NegQn36Y2TdPk_pJfxWf63yDPzenGXaMesPiduZ5bxmeOI77fWPPUg/s1600/IMG_3424.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3-K3H_We8mbG90Di9hf-om-pJXgIq4QB5J73cB695Jpl9zQqBFeiyTogq4DTNblztG2o31WdVNpbJLjUENYk6NegQn36Y2TdPk_pJfxWf63yDPzenGXaMesPiduZ5bxmeOI77fWPPUg/s640/IMG_3424.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiwMpP4ie3Ah1WtsCJ4bx_iI85-Ll2GYbZd3lhjv0kouo_Cr9nyS0v3ibhd9F6inb-iDSHdVEqQn1hu2_ksTIfdXSJg42-sVyHeurTEtmz65MgmmQfG2RHhH6YbA3yW-vgjCXJDaADBY/s1600/IMG_3389.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiwMpP4ie3Ah1WtsCJ4bx_iI85-Ll2GYbZd3lhjv0kouo_Cr9nyS0v3ibhd9F6inb-iDSHdVEqQn1hu2_ksTIfdXSJg42-sVyHeurTEtmz65MgmmQfG2RHhH6YbA3yW-vgjCXJDaADBY/s400/IMG_3389.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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About six hours outside of Johannesburg, I found myself here, where the
smooth roads of the city gave way to potholes and dirt roads. For
hundreds of miles, there was nothing but dry fields, hills, and the occasional settlement of mud huts. Aside from the huts, the landscape reminded me of Silicon Valley. As usual, I slept the majority of the way, while my boss drove and the NGO's economist and another intern rode along. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrzSgA2rgeiE281oisDriuXJE8NtlIM76YmgNeKQMTvcDIxwJMQXNAdupGaQbiv1yMlkLIoA7C32d6mx7-LuF5a7qL8S-dJyxrx04f_nZSOs4to0ngoIPkMVqqkYU-Ak09f1G_OZJoY8/s1600/IMG_3390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrzSgA2rgeiE281oisDriuXJE8NtlIM76YmgNeKQMTvcDIxwJMQXNAdupGaQbiv1yMlkLIoA7C32d6mx7-LuF5a7qL8S-dJyxrx04f_nZSOs4to0ngoIPkMVqqkYU-Ak09f1G_OZJoY8/s640/IMG_3390.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you squint, you can just make out a few mud huts in the center right of the picture.</td></tr>
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The NGO I worked for was conducting a project on the effects of coal mining in rural areas. They had done a few studies in other parts of South Africa, but never in a place so remote.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An abandoned "farm school"</td></tr>
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We were in the county known as KwaZulu-Natal* not too far from the tiny nation of Lesotho. KZN is one of the poorer counties of South Africa, but is rich with minerals such as coal. As a result, many large (mostly foreign) coal companies have moved in to extract the coal through mining. While coal companies bring relatively high-paying jobs, roads, and schools for the mostly unskilled population, they also tend to leave behind a mess. Past trips had revealed polluted rivers and land, and a general distaste for coal mining. This trip was going to be interesting because coal companies were prospecting in the area, but had not yet started mining. We were curious to see what people's impressions of coal were.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-wajWnDpHMbNFNkA8RTkkCeazQnYzu9_wY5le_MrPcDIu8ea94tACyyXlLUjm0jOkPytqeNg835U72TZF8mLnn6dKBl6rTScqfsjYZaTX6mVexf9jhIALvMX6PjM8R0SU1jT-avnipE/s1600/IMG_3413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-wajWnDpHMbNFNkA8RTkkCeazQnYzu9_wY5le_MrPcDIu8ea94tACyyXlLUjm0jOkPytqeNg835U72TZF8mLnn6dKBl6rTScqfsjYZaTX6mVexf9jhIALvMX6PjM8R0SU1jT-avnipE/s320/IMG_3413.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new school, with a water tower</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When the schoolkids turn the wheel, it pumps water into the water tower. Pictured is the NGO's (former) economist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They use controlled fires to prevent wildfires.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteSbmNpI2-Nz61V_S-X_rx-3HMAp3cy7lqwm9_hS6YdWKFgpCnKzwtYPp9ZRWcPLRCl-Va9GUFLAI_kpvrCRjvOuRp3ZIktFEfJvibGBAm4s_1IORNqQ9bT4qTLeoiMNFEzD1NuuxQVE/s1600/IMG_3420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteSbmNpI2-Nz61V_S-X_rx-3HMAp3cy7lqwm9_hS6YdWKFgpCnKzwtYPp9ZRWcPLRCl-Va9GUFLAI_kpvrCRjvOuRp3ZIktFEfJvibGBAm4s_1IORNqQ9bT4qTLeoiMNFEzD1NuuxQVE/s320/IMG_3420.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piggery!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqUduOy69LwWthu2stkq_mKDeBMvE7MnNzAWBF9SCW4D54ojeMay21XGRRI23SKHPg7D3gnbK7t7uI2mBCMVOj_iFC2kHQ0jNH_ZxFsiJjh0F_DbYssBBBHkpZoVrUxPMGveGoavfpcA/s1600/IMG_3423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqUduOy69LwWthu2stkq_mKDeBMvE7MnNzAWBF9SCW4D54ojeMay21XGRRI23SKHPg7D3gnbK7t7uI2mBCMVOj_iFC2kHQ0jNH_ZxFsiJjh0F_DbYssBBBHkpZoVrUxPMGveGoavfpcA/s320/IMG_3423.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The farmhouse where we stayed</td></tr>
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We were hosted by a farmer and his wife, who ran a bed and breakfast. They were of German ancestry, but their families had been in South Africa for many generations. The farmer said that five generations of his family had lived on that farm ("I'm not German," he said, "I'm South African"). There were many farmers of German and Dutch descent in the area. It was surreal to hear German and Dutch being spoken in the South African countryside. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-xQvAOqHdTiGqWMw-0Zzn3z7ZkLJAcQ1tu0BsZpDq9cFOm5dj8kTQaqLTlU0OxXaoVibpP-XnwUvLx-vY28NvEX7dVEpBEyL1diiRg152Obn6gsaq08O_g2r9jFTiLqV-5e3KAPjl50/s1600/IMG_3433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-xQvAOqHdTiGqWMw-0Zzn3z7ZkLJAcQ1tu0BsZpDq9cFOm5dj8kTQaqLTlU0OxXaoVibpP-XnwUvLx-vY28NvEX7dVEpBEyL1diiRg152Obn6gsaq08O_g2r9jFTiLqV-5e3KAPjl50/s640/IMG_3433.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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While the vast majority of farmers were White (they didn't like being called "European"), all of their laborers were Black. An unfortunate consequence of the laws during apartheid, the greatest inequality was not in the cities, where affluence and poverty were both so abundant, but out in the country. While the White farmers paid for private schools for their children (whose principal language of instruction was German), the Black farmworkers' children, who often spoke only Zulu, walked up to 20 kilometers to their local farm schools (whose principal language of instruction was English). The language and cost barriers for Zulu children meant that segregation was inevitable. A few glimmers of hope existed: hostel schools, sort of like boarding schools, were being used as a substitute for farm schools to some success; and bicycles were given to secondary school students to give them greater mobility. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A completely modern farmhouse. Pictured are our farmer host and my boss.</td></tr>
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We aimed to fill out thirty-two surveys, with equal representation from White and Black participants. Our host drove us from farmhouse to farmhouse where we spoke first with the farmer and his family, and then with his farmworkers. (Our host was fluent in four languages: German, Afrikaans, English, and Zulu, and often acted as a translator for us.) I was shocked at the modernity of the farmhouses. Hundreds of kilometers from the nearest towns, they nonetheless had all the features of modern living: satellite dishes, internet, and central heating (which most people in Johannesburg didn't even have). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1sdVJ5bFpFSiMEuXIUJVnDHsCdXxBrwgCWLHEuVY7pc7rygfhaFXuYX4pmpG3KBi8avy01y8kvrT6IT56TXIdgTfc35ZwXkgZKAQ72u1uoOtY63mjSfNIKPf8f81agFj8caMHM1n7WJ0/s1600/IMG_3437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1sdVJ5bFpFSiMEuXIUJVnDHsCdXxBrwgCWLHEuVY7pc7rygfhaFXuYX4pmpG3KBi8avy01y8kvrT6IT56TXIdgTfc35ZwXkgZKAQ72u1uoOtY63mjSfNIKPf8f81agFj8caMHM1n7WJ0/s400/IMG_3437.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The farmhouse's front yard.</td></tr>
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One of the most interesting things about rural South Africa was the widespread use of renewable resources. I suppose when your livelihood depends on the land, you have a huge incentive to take care of it. It was no surprise that solar panels were very popular, but we also saw <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vermiculture#Vermicompost">vermiculture</a> and sustainable forestry. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vermiculture, mounds of composting worms, in the foreground, and sustainable forests in the background</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_O4F35xFwc17OqdFY37NwE7MrrmJc3Px_Z6JBOF4FyuLrNzraqJ7dOJD2o_bWHEzV4vYJ75td5niU_AIS7NYxL0w8ioQLp63m0OA5XdIFEqYNHFMYdHC2fXeICsL231TIEgJDYYCNhM/s1600/IMG_3477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_O4F35xFwc17OqdFY37NwE7MrrmJc3Px_Z6JBOF4FyuLrNzraqJ7dOJD2o_bWHEzV4vYJ75td5niU_AIS7NYxL0w8ioQLp63m0OA5XdIFEqYNHFMYdHC2fXeICsL231TIEgJDYYCNhM/s400/IMG_3477.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sustainable forests are used to make paper and charcoal.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interviews</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Because the farmworkers were busy working during the day and because the sun set so early during those mid-Winter days, we often had to interview people at night by the light of our cell phones.** <br />
<br />
We met a lot of fascinating individuals. Everywhere we went, we met young people who could speak multiple languages fluently who translated for us. The woman in the striped sweater was our translator for these two older women. These grandmothers were funny, and were the only ones to give us sass over our (poorly worded) survey questions. In response to my question "How old are you?" one replied that she'd never learned how to count so she couldn't tell me.<br />
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I also met a fascinating woman who talked to me at length about the value of education. She worked in vermiculture, but also had a side business of collecting garbage from the side of the street and making it into handicrafts. She stressed to me the important of keeping the environment clean. Her handicrafts were awesome and the most inspiring thing I saw in South Africa:<br />
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Using the money from her job and business, she was able to put her daughter through college. <br />
<br />
The trip to rural South Africa was fascinating and beautiful. Our hosts were warm and welcoming, and we met a range of interesting people. For more about my trip to KZN, click <a href="http://sonaliinseoul.blogspot.com/p/extras.html">here</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The farmhouse in the morning</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">* "KwaZulu" means "place of the Zulu" and was the name given by the ethnic
Zulus for the area. "Natal" means "Christmas", which was the name
the Portuguese gave to the area when they discovered it on Christmas. During apartheid, the area was called Natal, but in 1994 it was renamed KwaZulu-Natal, or KZN (pronounced "kay <i>zed</i> en" because of the British English influence).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">** Cell phones frequently come with built-in flashlights in South Africa.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-55206703468194127782011-11-23T16:12:00.001+09:002011-11-23T16:14:14.920+09:00Animalia II: Lion cub pics of me that totally deserve their own post<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAeR9bDkpHrmib1vk_KRjW2PXJpcO9qGeIsCK_YIcpEzsFIMcsI5ef0pV8J8BrFI5xbP8WRLUeHMZoVMSF197uGL7YXqH06dZu6diHaXZBP-N9prtt8VBMDA5HBV2NFSosGClCJMJNv0/s1600/281698_10100167409052715_411106_47360656_2721840_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAeR9bDkpHrmib1vk_KRjW2PXJpcO9qGeIsCK_YIcpEzsFIMcsI5ef0pV8J8BrFI5xbP8WRLUeHMZoVMSF197uGL7YXqH06dZu6diHaXZBP-N9prtt8VBMDA5HBV2NFSosGClCJMJNv0/s320/281698_10100167409052715_411106_47360656_2721840_n.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look how happy she looks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeU31eBXP_b9tjF9pfFr6Kj7QH7363ynReuPJOOSMEJTULsRodmi5BnTp36BOeh38lkCcxDMA7Z56tJIUYNw3_Ar105YLBQC5JBgVWEEOiUMqp-DJ3S-6_HYriAbBosgRYl-b8taWHMAM/s1600/283123_10100167408758305_411106_47360648_4441582_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeU31eBXP_b9tjF9pfFr6Kj7QH7363ynReuPJOOSMEJTULsRodmi5BnTp36BOeh38lkCcxDMA7Z56tJIUYNw3_Ar105YLBQC5JBgVWEEOiUMqp-DJ3S-6_HYriAbBosgRYl-b8taWHMAM/s320/283123_10100167408758305_411106_47360648_4441582_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm smiling, but that hurt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ucCLtvFBgJ6JV2GZUxy9aRF6UcTp55Dx_gaz9uJItxLqXVrLFhyphenhyphen53bsVLNW6bJyS_kFGz60wiqUgv04QPwzLWMvz8zIFcyDDNZWm-mdYOkYKwpsNj04F8-Dok4c0TKm-w2GO2Nw8S3o/s1600/284553_10100167408588645_411106_47360644_4294171_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ucCLtvFBgJ6JV2GZUxy9aRF6UcTp55Dx_gaz9uJItxLqXVrLFhyphenhyphen53bsVLNW6bJyS_kFGz60wiqUgv04QPwzLWMvz8zIFcyDDNZWm-mdYOkYKwpsNj04F8-Dok4c0TKm-w2GO2Nw8S3o/s320/284553_10100167408588645_411106_47360644_4294171_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like a kitten, but with sharper teeth and claws.</td></tr>
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<br />Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-91804521164174386872011-11-14T05:18:00.001+09:002011-12-06T15:11:56.223+09:00The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent Was a Summer in Sub-Saharan AfricaThe air may have been nippy but I knew I could always depend on sunshine. It woke me up every morning and set beautifully every evening. South Africa is far from the equator, but the sun sticks around during the winter. It is exceptionally dry, drier even than California, and my skin paid dearly for it.<br />
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With a low of freezing and a high of 70 (21 C), the winter was somewhat misleading. <i>This is Africa, right?</i> I thought, ignorantly. SA gets cold in the winter and central heating isn't common. In fact, sometimes it felt as if even the natives themselves were surprised at the concept of winter. The tiny radiators of my apartment (floored with tile throughout) did little to take the edge off, so I relied on space heaters, fleece blankets, and hot showers.* Like California, Southern California in particular, Johannesburg was often quite warm in the afternoon but cold after the sun went down. It is also more than a mile above sea level.<br />
<br />
The NGO where I worked technically had central heating, but everyone had a space heater in their office. The lucky ones had offices that faced the sun. Those of us who were not so lucky wore our coats indoors, though we were rewarded with rather splendid sunsets at the end of the work day. <br />
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The cold served us well on safari. Animals hide in or under trees when it gets too hot, so winter is the best time to see them. People hide in or under blankets during the winter, so there were fewer people hogging the best viewing spots.<br />
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I'd recommend seeing South Africa during the winter. You will be assured of great weather (the summers are supposed to be quite wet) and if you're interested in seeing animals, they'll be more likely do interesting things while you're awake.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* I am forever indebted to D who lent me not only a blanket, but also a large space heater for the duration of my stay in SA. The showers were heated by solar power water heaters. Thanks to the ubiquitous sun, there was always plenty of hot water.</span><br />
<br />Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-31560850614313937922011-10-24T11:46:00.000+09:002011-10-26T09:25:28.171+09:00Animalia, or Have you ever seen a baby elephant dance?<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"The most dangerous thing in the bush is a female elephant. Male elephants like this one might mock charge you, but female elephants, when they charge, they don't play around."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>-</i> Our survival guide, Paul<i> </i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">My last post was a bit of a downer, so I thought I'd lighten the mood
with a happy topic: animals! I saw tons of animals this summer. I
even got to play with some of them.* First, let me just clear up some potential misconceptions about where I was living: Johannesburg is a city. There weren't hippos crossing the roads or elephants wandering around. You'd have a better chance seeing wild animals in Chicago than in Jozy. That said, South Africa has enormous game reserves filled to the brim with animals. One we visited, Kruger National Park, has so many elephants they've had to cull them to keep them from destroying the environment. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Johannesburg Zoo </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It might seem strange to go to a zoo in a city where, if you
drive for two hours in any direction, you can see the same animals in the wild.
However, with little to do on a Sunday morning and the zoo near our hostel, my classmates and I decided to give it a try. It was a pretty good trip. I don’t know whether
it's due to lax safety standards or because the people have a better knowledge and respect for animals, but
for some reason the enclosures were not particularly... well-enclosed. For
instance, a small hedge separated us from the buffalo and we were close enough to
feed the giraffes (and feed them we did). I miiiiight have touched both a monkey and a hog. Even more
surprising was the fact that we were the <i>only</i> ones to shirk the rules. Kids and
adults alike stepped back from the animals, didn’t tap on the glass or call to
them, and certainly did not throw things into their habitats (rather unlike South
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The tiny wall that separated us from the giraffe we fed. I mean pet. I mean saw.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The lions had a good time too.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NTREgnClS076dIYD2-qi2w1itqCzipEuHyjAlw-aS76joZDo0j_mtX98Hor17fDkH_TdEK6cnjqqZ-34hY9m8lw30KW0OwMo0QRf9qhbfSSncJZORGl4lAm4YNjdDB9CCjnst8ThHNs/s1600/IMG_3317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NTREgnClS076dIYD2-qi2w1itqCzipEuHyjAlw-aS76joZDo0j_mtX98Hor17fDkH_TdEK6cnjqqZ-34hY9m8lw30KW0OwMo0QRf9qhbfSSncJZORGl4lAm4YNjdDB9CCjnst8ThHNs/s320/IMG_3317.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">So jealous.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lion Park</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A bit of a tourist attraction, yes, but the lion park is no less awesome because of it. This is exactly as it sounds, a park filled with lions. You can play with the cubbies and pet and feed giraffes too. It's sort of like a petting zoo, except instead of goats and llamas you get to pet animals that can take down a buffalo with one swipe.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rJij-63Pag-rnSxlSks19YyGV6wZJ2xlOP10-SCWr5_fzhdJlehG_CSUrv5TunVs-uzgPyJkbTOmcbrzhchqw2aBkOlFjKR4vpd6HTLc2J76xC2bc_748mEg9AWGv6FQrIIyZSi41qc/s1600/IMG_3675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rJij-63Pag-rnSxlSks19YyGV6wZJ2xlOP10-SCWr5_fzhdJlehG_CSUrv5TunVs-uzgPyJkbTOmcbrzhchqw2aBkOlFjKR4vpd6HTLc2J76xC2bc_748mEg9AWGv6FQrIIyZSi41qc/s320/IMG_3675.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vicious I tell you, vicious.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were ostriches there too.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEu8kAoWQ_DwOgaySuj75_dhHSNFhBViuWSe03JpTWSdzlhCKsX9DgDzslXiO1RYFe8YGHC5_63s25KJ-TDM3cFA23wT01n7GigwGehlxBG7WtFCYbxxvUDOpZHWDis7g3tHLaEe4nSJE/s1600/IMG_3714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEu8kAoWQ_DwOgaySuj75_dhHSNFhBViuWSe03JpTWSdzlhCKsX9DgDzslXiO1RYFe8YGHC5_63s25KJ-TDM3cFA23wT01n7GigwGehlxBG7WtFCYbxxvUDOpZHWDis7g3tHLaEe4nSJE/s320/IMG_3714.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;">Safari</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I had the opportunity to go on two safaris, one in the Pilanesberg Game Reserve and the other in Kruger National Park. My friends and I just did a drive through Pilanesberg, but we camped out in Kruger for one week. The campsites are surrounded by fences to keep out the most ferocious of the animals, but baboons and vervet monkeys find their way in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Night were spectacular - I saw the Milky Way and counted more stars than I'd ever seen before. Since we were in the Southern Hemisphere, I was confronted with a strange set of constellations I did not recognize. Other than the Southern Cross, which can apparently tell you the direction of due South at any time, I didn't really learn any of them.** At night, we could hear hyenas cackling from just outside the campsite.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOUpSecQwYJJMN5bPf470YaHPDwff0l4-ubLlfWCBKo5hnnD9movSNYI8i6Ahyphenhypheno0T1NU3_aO9X-111AlZVMoXTaMP30tdmCcwEJ8naptTpt9wlez-9ixNkPk5-5m2n96t8YTB5Hm5Geo/s1600/IMG_3609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOUpSecQwYJJMN5bPf470YaHPDwff0l4-ubLlfWCBKo5hnnD9movSNYI8i6Ahyphenhypheno0T1NU3_aO9X-111AlZVMoXTaMP30tdmCcwEJ8naptTpt9wlez-9ixNkPk5-5m2n96t8YTB5Hm5Geo/s640/IMG_3609.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the entrances to Kruger</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvmYal3i3qHKKkFdQXArLW5zoO1rOFRxLC2m7pjHsDJ_c_nOct6jocUwbub3uAF-ZkRpaAIWi1VR3jR3uk5WW-V4VQ8zsF35lo5GR4qWPz-qW0OcfJ795xcfPxJ1WDRwQYrTaIR_xG_Y/s1600/IMG_3948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvmYal3i3qHKKkFdQXArLW5zoO1rOFRxLC2m7pjHsDJ_c_nOct6jocUwbub3uAF-ZkRpaAIWi1VR3jR3uk5WW-V4VQ8zsF35lo5GR4qWPz-qW0OcfJ795xcfPxJ1WDRwQYrTaIR_xG_Y/s640/IMG_3948.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two male lions on the hunt</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These zebras ran alongside our car for a few minutes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The glossy starling, my favorite Southern African bird</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYg50rcGiBHQAzbw1Dr_SskcpIYxlJfaQOD8-aQ_bUib9slpZrW5Tnq4yRKEW4xj0pq9CJj92pQ_IoBc6EiYAkgrmTS_wM3eTL6YnSdhUs9J82kE40LZqtz6Nqo8afv-4arcL_L_mbJQ/s1600/IMG_4004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYg50rcGiBHQAzbw1Dr_SskcpIYxlJfaQOD8-aQ_bUib9slpZrW5Tnq4yRKEW4xj0pq9CJj92pQ_IoBc6EiYAkgrmTS_wM3eTL6YnSdhUs9J82kE40LZqtz6Nqo8afv-4arcL_L_mbJQ/s400/IMG_4004.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathroom and shower facilities at one of the campsites we stayed at. We slept in tents.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBwJsYwcxb8UpyMrNsV7fYizyzqjWRK6H1RS5S81dbSerher480wCXnmWo_08SN1YU-FV4Xtr4WhA0etGkpN13QQ38lwsLhnD0unOmi4mNECCRAJ23Y3GCEAlKJZRH-26rOyG5c0qgrg/s1600/IMG_4019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBwJsYwcxb8UpyMrNsV7fYizyzqjWRK6H1RS5S81dbSerher480wCXnmWo_08SN1YU-FV4Xtr4WhA0etGkpN13QQ38lwsLhnD0unOmi4mNECCRAJ23Y3GCEAlKJZRH-26rOyG5c0qgrg/s400/IMG_4019.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyena: our guide told us that lions and hyenas are such vicious rivals that a lion will sometimes break a hyena's spine and then just leave it there to starve to death</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXIvkmNNDihl1bKk0XsCr3KdsrjpRxMBlnpfNTUM3uN3ADkCxH-jLlMdMvKktkqOSiqCRgDdFCg120oF_9S5wiTs0tCBF-yblo7gSoLFsiu6VKJPSKRC4IhvSln8vpV1RNKLMkaCGcps8/s1600/IMG_4020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXIvkmNNDihl1bKk0XsCr3KdsrjpRxMBlnpfNTUM3uN3ADkCxH-jLlMdMvKktkqOSiqCRgDdFCg120oF_9S5wiTs0tCBF-yblo7gSoLFsiu6VKJPSKRC4IhvSln8vpV1RNKLMkaCGcps8/s320/IMG_4020.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyena cubs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqSGhVZtY1FG_4a3uUWjB_ljDkC66No4ogkcQgFTGvQnwf88Qc_kf97GT9Twwrun3pac2KptE2ZUaS-ch869719ngeX7aQuG1giwjtpTCglewxHTfJDr3cTcgATACmN_xCTHJKJyBDME/s1600/IMG_4053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqSGhVZtY1FG_4a3uUWjB_ljDkC66No4ogkcQgFTGvQnwf88Qc_kf97GT9Twwrun3pac2KptE2ZUaS-ch869719ngeX7aQuG1giwjtpTCglewxHTfJDr3cTcgATACmN_xCTHJKJyBDME/s640/IMG_4053.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady giraffes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpW7q5KWqphMgK8SMMhkSlx525syX1NNQq4hRMquh12S9AFAhd4p1zRvrgqH4vXU_688AwW74tiPMu5MYBigWYaSHkQPplBIMGHKLeodtVkMzAzRpOP5zjeywBXWOZ-3jTcxn26zdMt1w/s1600/IMG_4051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpW7q5KWqphMgK8SMMhkSlx525syX1NNQq4hRMquh12S9AFAhd4p1zRvrgqH4vXU_688AwW74tiPMu5MYBigWYaSHkQPplBIMGHKLeodtVkMzAzRpOP5zjeywBXWOZ-3jTcxn26zdMt1w/s640/IMG_4051.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An interestingly-colored bull giraffe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKqUjEes9DOqgS0IqNkS4JAptlpkah9W7NCIJa0bJVz31JBT7vaZ669fWkVysdG9mtlLodi6s7EhGElflDK-_Y12T1Z0l3rsKNcJjn4AP6YbEQA_ieT0OK9SwomIqCH6skKiO2hFVNZ4/s1600/IMG_4064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKqUjEes9DOqgS0IqNkS4JAptlpkah9W7NCIJa0bJVz31JBT7vaZ669fWkVysdG9mtlLodi6s7EhGElflDK-_Y12T1Z0l3rsKNcJjn4AP6YbEQA_ieT0OK9SwomIqCH6skKiO2hFVNZ4/s400/IMG_4064.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impala</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-uHapgjw-7hUJVFb6AltY4s_9__6l_eYA6sYPMhbCGbfYWq6q0-BIfM_BwL4oaOuwO2qwIpemz0P6sLbeZHihetYnfdtSxWJHnCvopLF31qcsyqMN7TA8GWwfxVPCi3R1guiOIqN_V8/s1600/IMG_4067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-uHapgjw-7hUJVFb6AltY4s_9__6l_eYA6sYPMhbCGbfYWq6q0-BIfM_BwL4oaOuwO2qwIpemz0P6sLbeZHihetYnfdtSxWJHnCvopLF31qcsyqMN7TA8GWwfxVPCi3R1guiOIqN_V8/s400/IMG_4067.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White, or wide-lipped, rhino</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There are two rhino species at Kruger, the white or wide-lipped rhino, and the black or hook-lipped rhino. The black rhino is very rare and much coveted for its horn. Unfortunately, while we were there we saw a poached black rhino carcass. Rhino horns are more valuable than gold because they are thought to be good for, er, male virility in some Asian countries.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqbNLO15GlNaPepfs2qxw2w9rx7RemEFdOF8DoNGCL1SGWqFUBZnk4y6StZ3tyxyenjbuwOsKxLjUPc3gKzPCP3761ayxwyVRWR3KRrQvqYx0szDDIOnkf0BL74qX8RZCqhx9QXeY0wU/s1600/IMG_4079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqbNLO15GlNaPepfs2qxw2w9rx7RemEFdOF8DoNGCL1SGWqFUBZnk4y6StZ3tyxyenjbuwOsKxLjUPc3gKzPCP3761ayxwyVRWR3KRrQvqYx0szDDIOnkf0BL74qX8RZCqhx9QXeY0wU/s640/IMG_4079.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baboons</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Monkeys gave us serious trouble on our campsite. Not only did they break into our car, steal an entire loaf of bread, and attempt to eat my cards, they may have even stolen my classmate's t-shirt. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjeBcTjUAQyblSeO_jxRGvb1QqOQkEVrxXp2J22VCnH8FiYTYRV60HbPkeQ2fFYyYR_Fl5cPCx03ciA3gPoAovtI7DLuG1RBPMNBwaK275n4o9dKveYvA5MDUr-9raE3OflUZJG6Mbg0/s1600/IMG_4084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjeBcTjUAQyblSeO_jxRGvb1QqOQkEVrxXp2J22VCnH8FiYTYRV60HbPkeQ2fFYyYR_Fl5cPCx03ciA3gPoAovtI7DLuG1RBPMNBwaK275n4o9dKveYvA5MDUr-9raE3OflUZJG6Mbg0/s400/IMG_4084.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kudu***</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QeaA9MNTdWOIo5D3k3-oQtLXjbGFh_IsjzS-0A4zkDvTVUuxG0n74GaJli6TCWHlAv-bNTiUk-yi7n-D37TDffjrJDKOD-x7xcKuWSW5Ieqv3ZEpaenys9uWf03snrWyUAIx1RcrN88/s1600/IMG_4096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QeaA9MNTdWOIo5D3k3-oQtLXjbGFh_IsjzS-0A4zkDvTVUuxG0n74GaJli6TCWHlAv-bNTiUk-yi7n-D37TDffjrJDKOD-x7xcKuWSW5Ieqv3ZEpaenys9uWf03snrWyUAIx1RcrN88/s400/IMG_4096.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old buffalo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When you're in game reserves like Pilanesberg and Kruger, you have to stay inside your car at all times. However, you can sign up for a bushwalk (at a ridiculously early time in the morning, like 5 or something) where you walk around with two guides carrying rifles. Mostly, we examined dung, but we also came across a few cool things.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoy4nGbU3z4dmR7O_2ayukqW668jWgUDCBvj9rZAFdiMKXnjYKlwoKDwCkFqsc-NtzbvMAR7wa0suHK28rPJqv8Dk9C9ZxvQt08yFT42yqn3lwVO2tZcEB-B5KHJiwvOCHTjc26fV0T0/s1600/IMG_4107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoy4nGbU3z4dmR7O_2ayukqW668jWgUDCBvj9rZAFdiMKXnjYKlwoKDwCkFqsc-NtzbvMAR7wa0suHK28rPJqv8Dk9C9ZxvQt08yFT42yqn3lwVO2tZcEB-B5KHJiwvOCHTjc26fV0T0/s400/IMG_4107.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead buffalo, with our two bushwalk guides</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJmLpC9o7He2T4i7xevCFd-MMyGGQZBKoJGezZ-54WUQsd9ptn32DN68QVM7pj-XuMGF0Y8v0pZAa_Wkv017UqNGdxryB6SFx4YcBRN0JPQJX9YAcTuRsCIQjFtAdrVDNISjZw0_mM5fU/s1600/IMG_4113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJmLpC9o7He2T4i7xevCFd-MMyGGQZBKoJGezZ-54WUQsd9ptn32DN68QVM7pj-XuMGF0Y8v0pZAa_Wkv017UqNGdxryB6SFx4YcBRN0JPQJX9YAcTuRsCIQjFtAdrVDNISjZw0_mM5fU/s400/IMG_4113.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hippos checking us out on the bushwalk; one eventually charged us and we had to run</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvojK8tfbkJxHnluEXcfMzl1tf-3vzTa4N6gvldiCECee5dukovdkxxV8_tGPdt1RaZOfIficxZcHnGNNNzbHRRQM_UykkMbCcan6E0ipE0hdGWD88lsgqdyu2A080HizYGfzMtyhxF7E/s1600/IMG_4116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvojK8tfbkJxHnluEXcfMzl1tf-3vzTa4N6gvldiCECee5dukovdkxxV8_tGPdt1RaZOfIficxZcHnGNNNzbHRRQM_UykkMbCcan6E0ipE0hdGWD88lsgqdyu2A080HizYGfzMtyhxF7E/s400/IMG_4116.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think he said his name was Livingstone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzhfE_pqBq0Isp5rP1Y-3DJHzMlM-6olf6g26F0NmDoZTILpHyFKGu15K9CSolt6GVuId6OfQbu34eqQBsJUzgyLNdC50-NaDrEi3xxMo-lUMsT5vLgcmRb-5l6YOm1PUuvSCSb1d0W8/s1600/IMG_4121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzhfE_pqBq0Isp5rP1Y-3DJHzMlM-6olf6g26F0NmDoZTILpHyFKGu15K9CSolt6GVuId6OfQbu34eqQBsJUzgyLNdC50-NaDrEi3xxMo-lUMsT5vLgcmRb-5l6YOm1PUuvSCSb1d0W8/s400/IMG_4121.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably the most exciting I saw on the entire safari - an impala carcass freshly abandoned by a leopard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFS8bunQd7aDYTfvY2hplALZ-LC7RrdxBenZfota1npCZ2OKPcw3YgN8vqvmco-1eMJKB_xvPdF49-HVqNdqzbbWizpsLia7DBWZ6nd38RMcrXWLrLlJX0jFc1IcqIKlaPWnTdUXguZM/s1600/IMG_4141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFS8bunQd7aDYTfvY2hplALZ-LC7RrdxBenZfota1npCZ2OKPcw3YgN8vqvmco-1eMJKB_xvPdF49-HVqNdqzbbWizpsLia7DBWZ6nd38RMcrXWLrLlJX0jFc1IcqIKlaPWnTdUXguZM/s400/IMG_4141.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildebeest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibbe63YUNgCClEpCLmHIhALpx5QZQeeJ-CucDpwO_Bb5OTAxSPwt4Ijt3j2vy1392NUFJLTLpAzqRou1mr0ZP3Xkx4W6W_aFD4iGtsgEYMBs-aECTqmkxTo0woAixMCCC5QGovf1dspB8/s1600/IMG_4162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibbe63YUNgCClEpCLmHIhALpx5QZQeeJ-CucDpwO_Bb5OTAxSPwt4Ijt3j2vy1392NUFJLTLpAzqRou1mr0ZP3Xkx4W6W_aFD4iGtsgEYMBs-aECTqmkxTo0woAixMCCC5QGovf1dspB8/s640/IMG_4162.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA707d6JSA8WV0wbhucdrGXnqP6fB9ucdHFcQ72E_SlCpmhgqUo0g-8Zf_qSR78ZItvjz_kFJHpjkO84Lm7xb4uqFeW3xJwWOivaXQS-abiHQVebPN8HM4F0jrDGDY5kzeNppw7K5C_b0/s1600/IMG_4165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA707d6JSA8WV0wbhucdrGXnqP6fB9ucdHFcQ72E_SlCpmhgqUo0g-8Zf_qSR78ZItvjz_kFJHpjkO84Lm7xb4uqFeW3xJwWOivaXQS-abiHQVebPN8HM4F0jrDGDY5kzeNppw7K5C_b0/s640/IMG_4165.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny little baby elephant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">All right, here it is: a cute little baby elephant showing off its swing moves:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ABHPkLGmGvw" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Unfortunately, the pictures of me playing with lion cubs belong to someone else. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">I did make a couple up though. If you're ever in the Southern Hemisphere, look for the "Spitting Cobra." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*** Also the mascot of the college I worked at: </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-64441215094035504132011-10-13T10:01:00.000+09:002011-10-13T10:01:18.597+09:00SowetoD, the same coworker who invited me to the poetry reading, also offered to take the interns on a guided tour through Soweto. We had all been very excited to visit the center of the apartheid resistance and gladly took her up on her offer, especially since she had grown up there.<br />
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Soweto (<b>So</b>uth <b>We</b>stern <b>To</b>wnships) is a township on the outskirts of Johannesburg. During apartheid, Black South Africans were forbidden from living in the city without permits, but their menial labor was vital to the day-to-day function of the city so they were kept in townships nearby.* Because the people living in the townships were poor, disease and crime were very common. Many people lived in government-built RDP houses, which are two-room structures (without bathrooms). RDP houses are still commonly found there, but many residents have added to their residences with additional structures. We had the opportunity to go inside one of them and while it was small, it did not feel so different from the inside of many American homes.<br />
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D first took us to see the Regina Mundi church, which was one of the centers of the anti-apartheid movement. Because political meetings were banned, activists used the church as a meeting place. Famed for the bullet holes sustained during the Soweto Uprising, the Reverend Jesse Jackson, the Clintons, and more recently Michelle Obama have given inspired speeches there. <br />
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The Soweto Uprising of 1976 began in response to a law declaring Afrikaans the language of instruction in all schools. Afrikaans (a Dutch-related language) was affiliated with the apartheid government, and was thus unpopular amongst the nation's Black population. D's friend from school told us what it was like after this law was passed. He said that one day he was learning chemistry in English, the next, without any Afrikaans instruction, his lesson was in Afrikaans. (Chemistry is hard enough, I thought.) Because it affected schoolchildren, the rally was organized and orchestrated by students. The plan was to march down the main street in Soweto until they arrived at Orlando Stadium. They didn't make it very far. Police soon set dogs on the children, and before long began shooting at them. Hundreds of people died.** The most famous victim was a 12-year old boy named <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hector_Pieterson">Hector Pieterson,</a> whose lifeless body was photographed and shown around the world.<br />
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We visited the Hector Pieterson Museum and Memorial,*** which provided a lot of interesting information about the education system in the townships and how the students were able to organize during that time. We also got a personal account from D, who had been a teenager during the Soweto Uprising, and had participated in it herself. She showed us something pretty special at the museum:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">15-year old D participating in the rally.</td></tr>
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Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu once lived on the same street in Soweto. That street is now a bit of a tourist attraction.<br />
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We ended the night with a trip to Soweto's first restaurant, Wandie's. Now also a major tourist attraction, Wandie's features the closest thing to real South African cuisine we found: samp and beans, an assortment of curries, and rice. Though a little pricey, it was delicious. The walls of the restaurant are covered in currencies from around the world so we added a dollar bill and wrote down our names and places of origin.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*For a (from what I've been told) accurate representation of an apartheid-era township, see the movie District 9, which was filmed in Soweto.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Both White and Black.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***While I later visited the Apartheid Museum, which gives a much more in-depth perspective of apartheid, the images of this museum remain the most imprinted in my memory.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-18917454992846000072011-10-06T16:12:00.001+09:002011-10-06T16:12:16.638+09:00JozyMy coworker, D, invited me to a poetry reading in Newtown one evening. Newtown is located in downtown Johannesburg and is part of the inner city revitalization project. Many of the city's poorest live downtown and condemned buildings are a common sight. Newtown, however, now has a hip, artsy vibe to it, with museums, cafes, restaurants, a theater, and bookstores. The city's young, educated crowd can be found congregating there discussing art and poetry over wine (the poetry reading I attended had free wine and snacks). It was a great experience for me because it was neither a tourist attraction (lion cubs) nor something I could see back home (highways). The headlining poet was from Jamaica, but the opening acts were all young South Africans. Their poetry maneuvered effortlessly between languages, cultures, and slangs. One second it was in English, the next in Zulu. One moment I could understand what they were saying, then the next thing I knew the crowd was laughing at some phrase I didn't understand. It was a fascinating experience, and one which was reinforced throughout my time in South Africa. <br />
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"Jozy's cabs will never be like Durb's" said one of the young poets. My coworker saw my blank look and turned to me: "Jozy is Johannesburg and Durbs is Durban." "Jozy's cabs will never be like Durb's" he repeated. "<i>Jozy</i>'s cabs will never be like Durb's" he said yet again, this time miming something with his hands. The crowd hooted and whistled. <br />
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I found myself in Newtown a few weeks later for a modern art exhibit in a converted factory. It was a lot like how I imagine Greenwich Village; Hipsters abounded as I'd never seen before. There were vintage clothes and posters for sale, and stalls selling weird organic/alternative/funky food. I decided to try out the hot dog stand, which had some unique condiments: tomato and onion chutney, peanut and sweet chili sauce, and smashed Fritos (which they pronounced "fry-toes"). Since they allowed you to choose as many condiments as you wanted, I went with the latter two. While the peanut and sweet chili sauce wasn't bad, the crunch of the smashed Fritos sort of made my hot dog taste gritty. My opinions weren't shared by everyone, however: I overheard another patron dubbing the hot dog toppings "epic." <br />
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My fellow interns and I had been invited to the art exhibit by a girl who had come by our office one day looking for a job. She'd just graduated from college in the US and had studied abroad in Johannesburg, so she came back looking to do some women's rights work (though her South African boyfriend might have had something to do with it). There were also two undergrads from Harvard who were working at the Special Olympics and teaching people basketball (apparently it's not very popular in SA). Meeting these young people made me realize how boring I'd been at their age.* I had always considered myself quite adventurous for studying abroad in Europe and teaching in Korea, but going all the way to South Africa was so much more interesting. After the art exhibit, we went to a karaoke bar in Greenside, a wealthy suburb of the city. This particular bar has a famous drink called the John Deere, which is a 2-liter bottle cut in half and filled with a mix of cane (like rum) and cream soda. I assume the beverage was the reason why everyone was singing terrible pop songs from the 80s.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I was their age 2 years ago. </span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-26691194701353696562011-09-07T18:30:00.000+09:002011-09-09T09:43:58.491+09:00First Thing's First: FoodThe most important thing I do when I'm in a new country is sample the foodstuffs. Most of what I ate in South Africa was similar to what I would eat in the US - a lot of pizza, hamburgers, chicken burgers, pasta, and other commonly eaten comestibles here. However, South Africa actually has a true mix of foods from all over the world.<br />
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Britain: The food is very heavily influenced by the fact that it is a former British colony. As such, fish and chips (what we would call french fries) is a common dish in restaurants. One of the tastiest things sold on campus* was called "chips chili," which was french fries covered in seasoned salt and then drenched in a delicious chili sauce. The closest thing I've had to the chili sauce stateside is Taco Bell hot sauce. Other British food staples, like Weetabix, Cadbury's chocolate, and savory pies (like Shepherd's pie) were sold in stores everywhere. If that weren't enough, the best way to tell that the country was once ruled by the British was the fact that the financially-strapped NGO where I worked always had tea in the cafeteria, if not electricity.<br />
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India: Relatedly, Indian food is also very common. Indian people were brought over by the British as indentured laborers or as migrants, I can only assume for the food. The most frequented restaurant at the campus food court was an Indian restaurant (though this might have something to do with the fact that nothing sold there was over $1). The best samosas (called "samoosas") I've ever eaten were sold at the World of Samoosas in Jo-burg. <br />
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Dutch: The Dutch and British fought two horrific wars dubbed the "Anglo-Boer wars" ("boer" means "farmer" in Dutch). Though the British won the wars, and the colony, it was the Dutch who eventually took over the country. Dubbing themselves "Afrikaaners" it was this government, and the language they called "Afrikaans," that is affiliated with the system of apartheid. Despite this less-than-savory reputation, the food of the Afrikaaners remains popular among all South Africans. A "braai," or barbecue, is a South African summer must-do and usually features boerwors (or "farmer sausage"). They also eat biltong ("rump tongue" mmmm), or what we would call jerky. Biltong is often used as a garnish in salads and on bread. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Does this flag look similar to anyone?** </td></tr>
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Indonesia: The Dutch, who at some point ruled both South Africa and Indonesia, brought Indonesian slaves to the country. The mixing that occurred created the term "Cape Malay." Most Cape Malay people today live in the Western Cape, where Cape Town is located. As all great immigrant groups do, they created a delicious style of food. The quintessential Cape Malay dish is mutton curry.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-iMZBwSetWhwndyJUY3-oaaPWsQrRiBSllBRbbUDCgjWw1taVZi-5VD_7clg3koih583bcqnIjlIMG9e87todenWPO1vq_WhoUiPkJWqBF8DhJQgy3tuuNc2ryfRWAiARFAVTmvPTjg/s1600/flag.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-iMZBwSetWhwndyJUY3-oaaPWsQrRiBSllBRbbUDCgjWw1taVZi-5VD_7clg3koih583bcqnIjlIMG9e87todenWPO1vq_WhoUiPkJWqBF8DhJQgy3tuuNc2ryfRWAiARFAVTmvPTjg/s200/flag.gif" width="200" /></a></div>
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South Africa/Africa: Of course, there are also foods native to the area. Two staple foods are samp, a corn-based food served with beans, and pap, a corn-based porridgey food. When I ate at a restaurant in Soweto,*** I had samp with my mutton curry. Another SA food, and possibly the most awesomely fun food item to pronounce is chakalaka, a sort of spicy tomato pickle eaten with samp, curries, and even as a condiment on boerwors. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*I worked on-campus at a large university.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**See <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monaco">Monaco</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Lots more on Soweto later. For now, it was the largest township in South Africa during apartheid. </span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-19456831684007144542011-09-07T12:59:00.000+09:002011-09-07T12:59:46.560+09:00Chicago --> London --> JohannesburgSo I know I said that I was going to do this thematically rather than chronologically, but I changed my mind, at least for this first post. Sorry. <br />
<br />
The morning of June 15, I finished moving out of my old apartment and put all of my worldly possessions in my new apartment a few blocks north. My new roommate helped me stash my stuff and then I rushed off to the airport.* I bought a few souvenirs for the family at the airport and met up with one of the two classmates going with me to South Africa.<br />
<br />
10 hours later, at around 6AM, we arrived in London. Since our connecting flight was not until 7PM, I was planning to hang out in the city for a bit. However, the Director of the Intern Programme at my work happened to be in London at the same time and wanted to meet up with us that morning. My aunt drove to pick us up and unexpectedly picked up two parking tickets while waiting for us in what turned out to be the taxi lane. We headed straight to the Institute of Directors, where our new boss was awaiting us for tea.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUx8eTb3Vn3mMdiXBG3fVcsySXMP1AySjySYQCuifvwyTo06qu0wKaK_JbIUidjiQ5e2ycrSrWVaqjU9gkLb2luWrbU1UopDhFf1tuKljLpMjwuOtL1anSR_2Wv1T8gM4lZijFfbUqd8/s1600/116_Pall_Mall-Home_to_the_Institute_of_Directors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUx8eTb3Vn3mMdiXBG3fVcsySXMP1AySjySYQCuifvwyTo06qu0wKaK_JbIUidjiQ5e2ycrSrWVaqjU9gkLb2luWrbU1UopDhFf1tuKljLpMjwuOtL1anSR_2Wv1T8gM4lZijFfbUqd8/s320/116_Pall_Mall-Home_to_the_Institute_of_Directors.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Institute of Directors, from http://venues.mcdonaldbutler.co/institute-of-directors</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After a 30-minute-turned-3-hour-long meeting, I quickly met with my extended family and then hurried back to the airport.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2d1pW4l27Ry5XMxLFScWFZjP9m1dQ48234mbmUSudG8oeMCG46npJFpPymQqCADp4KZZUH0R9TzMom-UMBC_65pIpmEAjmiLaocpPGU9hZrY5HdudSqBmiOQs2YVEzpgAzgxGlTaoQI/s1600/IMG_3246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2d1pW4l27Ry5XMxLFScWFZjP9m1dQ48234mbmUSudG8oeMCG46npJFpPymQqCADp4KZZUH0R9TzMom-UMBC_65pIpmEAjmiLaocpPGU9hZrY5HdudSqBmiOQs2YVEzpgAzgxGlTaoQI/s320/IMG_3246.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My extended family was happy to see me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A rather luxurious South African Airways flight later and I arrived in Jo-burg. We didn't technically have anywhere to live until July 1, so we'd booked a hotel for the first few days. Unfortunately, we also had a writing assignment to finish so I could not relax just yet.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Well, "rushed off" might be a bit euphemistic. Originally, I had booked a shuttle to the airport, but when it was 30 minutes late I checked my ticket and saw that I'd booked it for the wrong day. I ended up shelling out $60 for a taxi instead.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-81143824046833816832011-08-24T11:47:00.001+09:002011-08-24T11:47:35.138+09:00I'm baaaaackI returned safely from South Africa on Sunday morning. Since I didn't blog about anything all summer, I'll have plenty to catch up on, starting with why I didn't blog all summer and hopefully ending with thieving (though unsuccessful) monkeys. I'm a little busy at the mo' but I plan to get started soon. Instead of a chronological account like I did with my adventures in the East, I think I'll write thematically for my adventures in the South.*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Did you know they have different constellations in the Southern hemisphere? Craaaazy! </span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-67371547587950711332011-06-11T07:25:00.003+09:002011-11-17T20:04:17.943+09:00Counting down the daysI managed to survive the most stressful month of my life and now just have to go to a different continent and find a place to live. I'm actually really excited and have been spending far too much time looking up stuff to do while there. I still have a paper to write before I leave Wednesday and I have to move out of my apartment, so my summer vacation is looking to be quite short. I leave here on June 15 and arrive in Johannesburg on June 17. Yeah, I basically lose 2 days (although I do have a lengthy layover in London). Here are some things I plan on doing or that I've been advised to do while in the southern hemisphere:<br />
<br />
[Updated post-trip]<br />
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<strike>Pet a lion cub! </strike>(No surprises here)<br />
See <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victoria_falls">Victoria Falls</a><br />
<strike>Visit Soweto</strike>: "Southwest Townships" where "colored" people mainly lived during apartheid. Nelson Mandela's former house and the Apartheid Museum are here.<br />
<strike>Cape Town</strike><br />
The Wild Coast<br />
<strike>Go on safari</strike><br />
<strike>Partake of a braai:</strike> Southern African BBQ<br />
Watch a rugby game<br />
Have my DNA mapped: Apparently I can do this at the university where I'll be working<br />
<strike>Visit the Cradle of Humankind</strike><br />
Visit all of the soccer stadia* that were in the World Cup <br />
Swim with great white sharks<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Oh yes, I did. </span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-69667929375897987462011-05-31T14:52:00.001+09:002012-02-28T16:43:44.712+09:00Lion cubsIn a few weeks I might be holding a lion cub. I just have to take four finals, pack up all of my things, move out of my old apartment (hovel), move into my new apartment (awesome condo), pack my luggage, book a hostel, participate in a writing competition, and then I'll be in Johannesburg. About 45 minutes outside the city is a <a href="http://www.lion-park.com/">lion park</a> where you can walk a cheetah, feed a giraffe, and even hold a fluffy white lion cub.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5iFkad606ZiV5os5qgnemKYCcARehBubSy-RmFrdAT0C5yQevwQYUXjDyQVwi3xB3dZruU_yyssDKvExe5teVQBRYOSKPF5sOCgtweF62u0GP8ibjA7eucm665OjDsrQCldzeQT0M0w/s1600/shakira-lion-park1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5iFkad606ZiV5os5qgnemKYCcARehBubSy-RmFrdAT0C5yQevwQYUXjDyQVwi3xB3dZruU_yyssDKvExe5teVQBRYOSKPF5sOCgtweF62u0GP8ibjA7eucm665OjDsrQCldzeQT0M0w/s320/shakira-lion-park1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.lion-park.com/celebrity-wall/</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And that is exactly what I plan to do.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZC4BBz71EktbG_KE-0jOqELEz4LvbpFCWBA_Y69KTItzfmq-orCeG8qkTQdFJfMka5Ez-ObnzlfRhturcv4ycCgx3IYpTGE84fsRMQxFRl-SWO_IR_U2pzaCufF0TZV9N3r6qZRO606Y/s1600/Shakira-visited-the-Park-150x150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZC4BBz71EktbG_KE-0jOqELEz4LvbpFCWBA_Y69KTItzfmq-orCeG8qkTQdFJfMka5Ez-ObnzlfRhturcv4ycCgx3IYpTGE84fsRMQxFRl-SWO_IR_U2pzaCufF0TZV9N3r6qZRO606Y/s1600/Shakira-visited-the-Park-150x150.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cub looks more comfortable in this picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-57752103738620153272011-05-23T06:32:00.001+09:002011-05-23T06:32:28.735+09:00Merchandise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After yet another leisurely morning, we decided to go see the Jade Buddha Temple, renowned for its large statutes of Buddha carved out of single pieces of jade. The uncomfortable humidity we'd been experiencing all week finally turned into thunderstorms, so we were glad to be mostly indoors for the day. When we arrived at the temple, we were greeted by a friendly guy who spoke English very well. He graciously gave us a tour. There were a few different buildings filled with various large non-jade statutes of Buddhist gods and kanons. Our tour guide explained a little bit about the sitting jade Buddha, which came from Myanmar, then talked about lady Buddha ("just like Mary") and Happy Buddha. He then escorted us into a gift shop and encouraged us to touch all of the very expensive merchandise. We were not swayed by his saletalk, however, and we escaped his wiles for the two statues. They were both lovely, but the second one (reclining Buddha) was truly fantastic.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi5tn3MAQTfSniexG5XB1nerqFGbh-8kqYdzj92K6qabCZON6wIEfyv_q5DZxzAFtg4LS5rYCxjVxw5GddiL9ZAEz36gjXm__uBvBwtYVaqnFnTcdl3Aw4NiFlxfussJ-I1li-0v9jA8/s320/IMG_2939.jpg" width="320" /></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXmlKHomJje5G4_N5W8Q8ctzd-Ic6rSJuEORXjcKbzAv7oFd-292sMy0LppQdBTyTcG57JtxR_mFrGL8R-MIGep7tnmUVU_n_3p3HSvhBXRwSB_Qm8VYn1Og9pVC35qzKfX0vbcV8aPM/s1600/IMG_2940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXmlKHomJje5G4_N5W8Q8ctzd-Ic6rSJuEORXjcKbzAv7oFd-292sMy0LppQdBTyTcG57JtxR_mFrGL8R-MIGep7tnmUVU_n_3p3HSvhBXRwSB_Qm8VYn1Og9pVC35qzKfX0vbcV8aPM/s320/IMG_2940.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0fRWZUv0ZpjCaHJRjPk4OnDqIm43VJcT6Lv0j3gb4ffxiGWvywonY24flMgDK6v7iYlTnhNlxeoWEx8qKdwXY7fvkJLVxp9wMXYfg7fnXi0V5qzZZk18EGyOrA0_ApRNIKjAP148Rbs/s1600/IMG_2944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0fRWZUv0ZpjCaHJRjPk4OnDqIm43VJcT6Lv0j3gb4ffxiGWvywonY24flMgDK6v7iYlTnhNlxeoWEx8qKdwXY7fvkJLVxp9wMXYfg7fnXi0V5qzZZk18EGyOrA0_ApRNIKjAP148Rbs/s320/IMG_2944.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dyBpkLFZYemijQjmS3W9RI7N5421zZ4fMrCyhwg3YWRhbeJ4fK3ZjvyKnhBjTe9xDjA6q8tI2UGa991Sf5AIy3_xC-ncId0DJyuYeTRDOB_gLIfpUk31J1piXqh2uW0pJPsKsmWG7LA/s1600/IMG_2946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dyBpkLFZYemijQjmS3W9RI7N5421zZ4fMrCyhwg3YWRhbeJ4fK3ZjvyKnhBjTe9xDjA6q8tI2UGa991Sf5AIy3_xC-ncId0DJyuYeTRDOB_gLIfpUk31J1piXqh2uW0pJPsKsmWG7LA/s320/IMG_2946.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awkward smiles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI-Omwq5PURj4ckfRlnuo9yjLCaDCedkPw4Pv_wtnR-rBBdtoD8I5FIvxt_pNHRIzx6WVHACxlRzcTUCIOVliwcPb4QQLTEifjH_2VH7CRrpl98a1YFOeD5ACxAnd2ts4Vsqd0aLZyYKo/s1600/IMG_2948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI-Omwq5PURj4ckfRlnuo9yjLCaDCedkPw4Pv_wtnR-rBBdtoD8I5FIvxt_pNHRIzx6WVHACxlRzcTUCIOVliwcPb4QQLTEifjH_2VH7CRrpl98a1YFOeD5ACxAnd2ts4Vsqd0aLZyYKo/s320/IMG_2948.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost 7 feet long and weighing 3 tons, it was carved out of one large slab of jade from Myanmar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We next went to the French Concession, a surprising find in the middle of futuristic Shanghai. It was a quiet tree-lined neighborhood with European-style houses, boutique shops and Irish pubs. I dragged J into a specialty cooking supplies place and we came across a real live French family.<br />
<br />
Later that evening we went back to E. Nanjing St, the main boulevard downtown where the souvenir shopping was centered. There was an underground area where one could find cheap brand name products*. One gentleman even showed us a false wall and invited us to see his collection of watches and purses. We declined and instead went to another stall where a woman had authentic (looking) soccer jerseys. She offered us a price for two kits (jersey plus shorts) and then we (J) haggled. We thought we were driving a hard bargain by offering half of what she originally asked for, but as soon as she heard the number she threw the merchandise into a bag thrust it into our hands, grabbed our money and ushered us out.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Later that evening we saw a number of police cars stationed outside the underground market.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-6725663544239877802011-05-16T14:33:00.001+09:002011-05-19T21:21:39.155+09:00Meteor Shower! Magma!<div style="text-align: center;">"After riding the Maglev, we tried going to the Shanghai Science and Technology Museum. It looked cool from the outside, but it is closed on Mondays and apparently today was a Monday."</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpCO9_SHa6swb-17laTNOGotH0rttK-n60wqFVPenR2rcMtjJxxa81NDIv8F1GKByX1M_KOqq4GZiyNoWeINLKjk1x_RJUD7YFYAXmpBgna6j_cNeRwETUGwamrx8TvF7F3EN5vKi_1g/s1600/IMG_2901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpCO9_SHa6swb-17laTNOGotH0rttK-n60wqFVPenR2rcMtjJxxa81NDIv8F1GKByX1M_KOqq4GZiyNoWeINLKjk1x_RJUD7YFYAXmpBgna6j_cNeRwETUGwamrx8TvF7F3EN5vKi_1g/s320/IMG_2901.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The closed Science and Technology Museum </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Near the museum was Century Park, the biggest park in Shanghai. It had an amusement park in it with a few rides. J and I rode the bumper cars, which probably would not have met the safety standards of the US. The cars went crazy fast and we were both left with some serious whiplash. We also rode a rotating roller coaster that I found exhilarating while J continued to worry about the lax safety standards. Afterward, we went to the lake and rented a boat. It looked sort of like a paddleboat it was actually a motorboat. We strapped on very old life jackets and climbed in. The boat was very slow, maybe a little slower than the current. Steering was a fool's errand.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07r6WivXA2TqA72w0kcSiU-7mQWbi2uItXyYfVzA_7-GG9YGzuWLU3bBY9PKzR-2pUX_B4WXV5KDLObN53YAP9cToozsLhYn07IMS6j3anfduS3nb2F1gUzJvnKSnfaF9r9xr2J6SPds/s1600/IMG_2904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07r6WivXA2TqA72w0kcSiU-7mQWbi2uItXyYfVzA_7-GG9YGzuWLU3bBY9PKzR-2pUX_B4WXV5KDLObN53YAP9cToozsLhYn07IMS6j3anfduS3nb2F1gUzJvnKSnfaF9r9xr2J6SPds/s320/IMG_2904.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was only a problem with our boat though, all the others whizzed by us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Later, "we" went looking for the Sex Culture Museum. "Unfortunately" we were not able to find it, so instead we took the Bund Sightseeing Tunnel, which goes from one side of the river to the other and which we assumed would give us an interesting view of the Bund. In fact, we boarded a futuristic pod thing that went through a tunnel laden with flashing lights. A speaker shouted random words like "meteor shower!" or "magma!" while we passed screens displaying sea creatures. It was all very strange and we were glad we only got one-way tickets.<br />
<br />
Once we were on the other side of the river, we walked around the big buildings in awe and took some pictures.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvUEXNVwbjyxyIbkMO2qvTg8DrwGUIw20MtwNyJW1Hkq0R6SSAqp7570Bjm5njTDQv7b1KMZt2Q3OBp-n9yxWCFqVoq2Ti1SYAM__ZveHP3MgrltjWPZNDVUUH7jnwgatsTP3PJAeioE/s1600/IMG_2909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1NTQ75eBC2jpEcONNf53LZ59bbZFJpb9N8lylORpAJaeDk2jP5vxVb6CH5MQwdFHL5AwpefGxQYemU4ExgfGEdxl6dl_hbLGuAroa2u11Lu_mG56wS9eqta9NSeW4DIyGPoTmFiGECk/s1600/IMG_2911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1NTQ75eBC2jpEcONNf53LZ59bbZFJpb9N8lylORpAJaeDk2jP5vxVb6CH5MQwdFHL5AwpefGxQYemU4ExgfGEdxl6dl_hbLGuAroa2u11Lu_mG56wS9eqta9NSeW4DIyGPoTmFiGECk/s320/IMG_2911.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool unnecessary walkway thing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3QTIui39Q0jC8d611-c4oPu-S7M7y4yZ_7njfj4jABbtKkOnXgqy4cB8KfbxqcnEr8vc9RNrOgUJ_CKJtSnphY5LoQB368mHbJWZPSZZaHpmBMSQycDR7EpSdtSEorSXEo_B4cghtjQA/s1600/IMG_2912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3QTIui39Q0jC8d611-c4oPu-S7M7y4yZ_7njfj4jABbtKkOnXgqy4cB8KfbxqcnEr8vc9RNrOgUJ_CKJtSnphY5LoQB368mHbJWZPSZZaHpmBMSQycDR7EpSdtSEorSXEo_B4cghtjQA/s320/IMG_2912.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Oriental Pearl Tower</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUQOBXW3eO5dWa9Q_NDE24hJ7JnNAW1HWUg-2Tk1t8e5Xrm8nQ_ZhcFStRfCf5mq6MfaWYkcAXVnQnncnyxhT8T-qRw3qWaVwQ75hUBfG0PwMbRdqsG5e4599fh586vkzK1Gpd2ssXjY/s1600/IMG_2914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUQOBXW3eO5dWa9Q_NDE24hJ7JnNAW1HWUg-2Tk1t8e5Xrm8nQ_ZhcFStRfCf5mq6MfaWYkcAXVnQnncnyxhT8T-qRw3qWaVwQ75hUBfG0PwMbRdqsG5e4599fh586vkzK1Gpd2ssXjY/s320/IMG_2914.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shanghai World Financial Center (or "bottle opener") on the left and the Jin Mao Tower on the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Shanghai World Financial Center is the tallest building in China and third tallest in the world. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi7Sb599UWRPHPPrFLzR_lGmnRpCSVw_H3h1qai9Od3HfjbnOy74nS1a7LEnwRNlY8E4Ky-HtYdvrTDH1V9ZKaE6xZarH4iGIFly5f5mB57C605WNwA_Qdxy_EDTWHQTe0JFC4Vr3s4dA/s1600/IMG_2916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi7Sb599UWRPHPPrFLzR_lGmnRpCSVw_H3h1qai9Od3HfjbnOy74nS1a7LEnwRNlY8E4Ky-HtYdvrTDH1V9ZKaE6xZarH4iGIFly5f5mB57C605WNwA_Qdxy_EDTWHQTe0JFC4Vr3s4dA/s320/IMG_2916.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, we were really there!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We eventually found a huge shopping mall owned by Samsung (go Korea!). We wandered the numerous floors and when we got to the 7th or 8th we came across an enormous arcade. It had every game imaginable and some I could never have imagined. There were the classics of course - air hockey, shoot 'em ups, car games - but also ping pong on a full ping pong table against a robot, soccer, baseball in a cage, Formula 1 Racing in a race car, billi bowl* and so much more. We spent a lot of money and many hours there.<br />
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It was dark by the time we left so we went back to the Bund to admire the Shanghai skyline by night.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CWMKXq3s2NwN84H4AdAFN8Gx4NDnhP29c6vR4w7oPdvik_DFz5QQlUM38r3-ENNXQW93yWdrOuvEhci8XaEXJV3A8d5I5_QYrsiOVPg-8g5QoT_sG_I9pldJD04ByTubagEjQL0Ijpo/s1600/MVI_2927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CWMKXq3s2NwN84H4AdAFN8Gx4NDnhP29c6vR4w7oPdvik_DFz5QQlUM38r3-ENNXQW93yWdrOuvEhci8XaEXJV3A8d5I5_QYrsiOVPg-8g5QoT_sG_I9pldJD04ByTubagEjQL0Ijpo/s320/MVI_2927.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9w7oXfVkSvDi2A0aDbDf0ENimfdGyYz2gAg3h9EIthygpmDCyeNp-R1uHzO3tpOk6nHJHq5mR83QquEcMaEJG-sLElxzVkNp_UX-rnVzghvXUUKcd7Q0gZmSPTXBLv1o799E-qyiAFM/s1600/MVI_2928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9w7oXfVkSvDi2A0aDbDf0ENimfdGyYz2gAg3h9EIthygpmDCyeNp-R1uHzO3tpOk6nHJHq5mR83QquEcMaEJG-sLElxzVkNp_UX-rnVzghvXUUKcd7Q0gZmSPTXBLv1o799E-qyiAFM/s320/MVI_2928.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitWIfxjFV-ORequRg_Gdt5rmiWuYRSLoeir_328p0w87o2aaUpYoNnMTJLhAxyHOZqsv1PM5VOjx50aX-ukTvdR2eYqMAhmHciGLgax5T3JLa5V4q42_ZFO5JWwyOLLhTF5nFL2-oegw/s1600/IMG_2934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitWIfxjFV-ORequRg_Gdt5rmiWuYRSLoeir_328p0w87o2aaUpYoNnMTJLhAxyHOZqsv1PM5VOjx50aX-ukTvdR2eYqMAhmHciGLgax5T3JLa5V4q42_ZFO5JWwyOLLhTF5nFL2-oegw/s320/IMG_2934.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWERucV_uRQOcU228BhOqCcQEM22vg2xATjZYKPCJchngt10vIFSTLqhMsCQgUa6Ke_mWsyzSH75cjAE5npTk1858jJ63aNqcj9fXX5X-Bndl46y6EsCJAQRHXIItOIsUj15yZJaPROM/s1600/IMG_2930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWERucV_uRQOcU228BhOqCcQEM22vg2xATjZYKPCJchngt10vIFSTLqhMsCQgUa6Ke_mWsyzSH75cjAE5npTk1858jJ63aNqcj9fXX5X-Bndl46y6EsCJAQRHXIItOIsUj15yZJaPROM/s320/IMG_2930.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikPXBKBW4Bq_jwbkMP2entJoKtYxm8Y-jId2S1-mX_LGaB92_A9kVOC3CWhUSvAa4yTdZzpmHdcsXb4VyqUkRepZl9zvSfmNzIjWSNkFrwpXTHdHDqB_EJOMJ76jRb168ssI4JkePAj4/s1600/IMG_2935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikPXBKBW4Bq_jwbkMP2entJoKtYxm8Y-jId2S1-mX_LGaB92_A9kVOC3CWhUSvAa4yTdZzpmHdcsXb4VyqUkRepZl9zvSfmNzIjWSNkFrwpXTHdHDqB_EJOMJ76jRb168ssI4JkePAj4/s320/IMG_2935.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lit-up yacht in front of a lit-up museum.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDJOcWPRmupA3F4s35fw31DtSr3_-Jiyfr09ez2s8PZSbDNarOM_z-jg1Bm1d0AIYlPs8ZUVpsT38Qary3dtFCfKz159H5UF-Y-anjAAPH224NToGy3-UhSNCQU0n_zfjAIuorDtRwDo/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDJOcWPRmupA3F4s35fw31DtSr3_-Jiyfr09ez2s8PZSbDNarOM_z-jg1Bm1d0AIYlPs8ZUVpsT38Qary3dtFCfKz159H5UF-Y-anjAAPH224NToGy3-UhSNCQU0n_zfjAIuorDtRwDo/s320/IMG_2937.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Mini bowling where you hit the bowling ball with a pool cue.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-69181132940553500322011-05-15T03:00:00.003+09:002011-09-07T14:15:28.082+09:00Shanghai Continued: The Bund<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">8/28: "I've had a few wonderful emails from past students. It feels good to know that I was able to connect with some of them in the short while I knew them. I hope we keep in touch. I wonder what will happen with the friends I made in South Korea, or the ones I have in Berkeley. I wonder what this wanderlust will do to my relationships and how long it will last."</span></div>
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J and I decided to take it easy while in Shanghai. The past three weeks of traveling had finally caught up to us and we were ready for the stability of home. The common room at our hostel had a collection of DVDs and every night we stayed up late watching movies.<br />
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The Bund: This is what they call the embankment along the Huangpu River. On one side, old Gothic and Renaissance buildings echo the banks of the Seine. On the other, futuristic buildings scream of China's technological prowess. The Bund reflects Shanghai's fascinating status as a place with one foot steeped in history and the other placed firmly in the future. Western influences remain even while Shanghai is unabashedly Chinese in nature.<br />
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At night, the buildings on either side of the Bund light up in fascinatingly different ways.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRJ7-j0LAYGMdUGp_v4RdzvTzUodUrRSnOuHIoUcabPulty8sIIvTSwJMEacXPBwUZzyZK9i-EIUfEc-uu62tCCdrAApsJAIM5dJuJxBvyTnG8AyIeMYIWiinVC-QQAZgclVhJi4KrTA/s1600/IMG_2921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRJ7-j0LAYGMdUGp_v4RdzvTzUodUrRSnOuHIoUcabPulty8sIIvTSwJMEacXPBwUZzyZK9i-EIUfEc-uu62tCCdrAApsJAIM5dJuJxBvyTnG8AyIeMYIWiinVC-QQAZgclVhJi4KrTA/s400/IMG_2921.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcdJmVRJt3rqToXMzeBBJpfXcQpun78XR-QAKOQqV21lBhO-x0DYmPRUiHbw8k5V1BQ-QpdwMXfTuFGcs_2nDkaTAs3rhRnbyk-6tXhSW_gNy3lwewBJu1EqK6p71fYm2nIK2E9rbNuI/s1600/IMG_2923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcdJmVRJt3rqToXMzeBBJpfXcQpun78XR-QAKOQqV21lBhO-x0DYmPRUiHbw8k5V1BQ-QpdwMXfTuFGcs_2nDkaTAs3rhRnbyk-6tXhSW_gNy3lwewBJu1EqK6p71fYm2nIK2E9rbNuI/s400/IMG_2923.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Oriental Pearl Tower on the left.</td></tr>
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I was curious about the mixing of cultures in the city, so a quick visit to Wikipedia gave me fascinating insight into its history. It was briefly ruled by the British during the Opium Wars (summed up to me as, "The British wanted stuff from China but had nothing the Chinese wanted. The British decided instead to get them hooked on opium. It worked pretty well.") A large international settlement remained. The French, unwilling to play along with the rest of Europe, had a settlement in an area now called the French Concession, which I'll talk more about later. In the 1920s and 1930s, Russian Jews fled the Soviet Union for Shanghai. After the Sino-Japanese War, Japan too settled in Shanghai.<br />
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Despite being the most advanced of China's cities, Shanghai still had some of the annoyances of Beijing. Jam-packed with people, oppressively humid, and enshrouded in smog, every movement was difficult. Because it was so hot, we wanted to see some of the museums (and gift shops), but couldn't figure out how to get to the Shanghai Museum. We stopped into a tourist information center, where the employees were decidedly un-helpful, and eventually found it anyway.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaWmm6TLV0qrrByMsCkv5UPAJJ6k6mqBJ6OBLptGMO32_avCyHB6ozkQ4n0qDSNpp5evVlIC3QraVYDsZ-KIBA6GPzOOm1Xdve66wWW8dbzwkidF43k_pm08jkMvR6TP0dPudl13zInE/s1600/IMG_2889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaWmm6TLV0qrrByMsCkv5UPAJJ6k6mqBJ6OBLptGMO32_avCyHB6ozkQ4n0qDSNpp5evVlIC3QraVYDsZ-KIBA6GPzOOm1Xdve66wWW8dbzwkidF43k_pm08jkMvR6TP0dPudl13zInE/s320/IMG_2889.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bund in the smog.</td></tr>
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Ever since our un-exciting arrival by subway*, we had been dying to go back to the airport so we could ride the Maglev. Yes, it may sound silly, but seriously, how many times does one get an opportunity to ride the fastest land vehicle on earth? The train goes different speeds depending on the time of day, with higher speeds during rush hour and lower speeds at other times to conserve energy. When we rode it, it reached a top speed of 431 km/hr, or around 270 mph. The ride took under 8 minutes. It was pretty awesome. When it turned, the whole train lifted up, and when the other Maglev passed by us we could feel but not see it as it whizzed by. <br />
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That night we found a great Chinese restaurant near our hostel. I know it sounds odd to say since we were in China, but it was pretty fancy, had an English menu, and a very friendly waitstaff. We had a feast and it only cost us around $12 total.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpFd-iSxoStIv-ST-TlgRikT5lr_Ag7CDg8i_wpwe1lja5CWHc22KSY7yTMTMFGiJKpBV6hXmlxEB9VJDbD9pLjoZx9sVihyphenhyphenQe1vuxgCqg9TtM9gqHDB362X4UYPr1GcRKBSsBAWcxg8/s1600/IMG_3079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpFd-iSxoStIv-ST-TlgRikT5lr_Ag7CDg8i_wpwe1lja5CWHc22KSY7yTMTMFGiJKpBV6hXmlxEB9VJDbD9pLjoZx9sVihyphenhyphenQe1vuxgCqg9TtM9gqHDB362X4UYPr1GcRKBSsBAWcxg8/s320/IMG_3079.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the dishes we ordered, "explosive prawns."</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Don't get me wrong, the Shanghai subway is fantastic. If you've never been to Asia, it's impossible to explain how great their subways are. Clean, fast and efficient, they make Western Europe look third-world.</span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-62098698000066905012011-04-08T06:04:00.001+09:002011-04-10T13:21:55.464+09:00FAQsEvery once in a while I check up on my blog stats. It sort of keeps me in the loop about where people are reading my blog and gives me a nice ego stroke when I'm feeling unpopular. It doesn't tell me specifics, just general locations*. Today I realized I can also see what people searched for in Google (or their search engine of choice) when they found my blog. It seems like people often have questions about Korea...or sometimes other stuff...when they come across it. I thought I'd try to answer some of those questions here.<br />
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1. Noraebang: this one comes up a lot, sometimes as "itaewon noraebang," "korean noraebang," or "best noraebang seoul." Noraebang is the Korean version of Karaoke. "Bang" means "room" and the way it works is that you rent out a room with some of your friends and then you can sing without the embarrassment of doing it in front of strangers. It ranges from 10,000 to 20,000 won per hour, depending on the place. Some are very nice, almost like hotels, while others are more simple. I can't really give any recommendations since I only went a few times and there are thousands in Seoul, but I highly recommend doing it. I've even been to one in Chicago.<br />
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2. "Why is Chairman Mao in the Forbidden City?" Good question. Actually, he isn't in the Forbidden City, but rather in the Great Hall of the People in Tiananmen Square. Tiananmen Square has great significance for China for various reasons and it is no surprise that he would want to be buried in such an important location. I believe a poster of him resides somewhere nearby.<br />
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3. "Chungdahm sketchy?" This made me laugh out loud because I may have typed in the exact same thing when I was offered a job with Chung Dahm. The short answer: No, it's not sketchy. Long answer: It's a large corporation with a huge research and development office, a large training facility, and dozens of branches across Korea employing thousands of teachers. It's legit. On the other hand, will you enjoy working there? That's a question I can't answer.<br />
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4. "Walking to Namsan Tower from Itaewon" It's a pretty long walk, so I wouldn't. I think the tower is only a couple of subway stops away from Itaewon and there is a funicular that will take you from somewhere near the subway to the gondola thing that takes you to Namsan Tower. Sorry that's not more specific.<br />
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5. "Whipped cream curdles on the body." Oh, really?<br />
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6. "Coatel Chungdahm": Coatel is really nice, so if you have accepted an offer with CDI and you're about to embark on training don't worry about the accommodations. CDI actually owns a bunch of really suave apartments in the middle of the nicest part of Seoul, Gangnam. They have full kitchens and washing machines, so you can even cook and do laundry there if you wanted to.<br />
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7. "bento ramen camden": I'm not sure what to say. I enjoy bento boxes. Ramen is OK every once in a while. Camden, New Jersey? Never been there. I'm not sure how you found my blog looking this up. Did you use Yahoo?<br />
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8. "Other names for tomato (4, 5 letters)": Fruit, plant.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*It's pretty cool that people from all over the world (or one very well-traveled reader) are reading my blog. Here are some of the locations that are tapping in:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Illinois</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Texas</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">California</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">South Korea</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Malaysia</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Russia</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Indiana</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Philippines</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Singapore</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">India</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Arizona</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Oregon</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">China</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Indonesia</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ohio</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Canada</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">United Kingdom</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Minnesota</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Belize</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">South Africa</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kentucky</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pennsylvania</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hong Kong</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Saudi Arabia</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Australia</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Italy</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Laos </span>Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-62990578735465217092011-04-02T09:39:00.001+09:002011-04-02T09:40:55.867+09:00My Travels Continue......to yet another continent! That's right, folks, I'm headed to South Africa on a research fellowship this summer. I'm super excited as I've never been before and my mom's side of the family hails from there. I'll be stationed in Johannesburg at the Centre of Applied Legal Studies of the University of Witwatersrand, home to Africa's only rock museum and alma mater of Nelson Mandela*.<br />
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I don't have quite enough details yet to expand on this, but it's definitely a go at this point. I'm just waiting for my official start and end dates so that I can buy my plane ticket.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDcu-yAv3OpppkO_97WnyVc6UelFON6WGtm7dcdAeJHdpvysq47AkCsHV3igOT9SnGMguIRDVX9wyIZVz0u6L7reSr12LeWwDLU05gSjEbuOxctfaxG23IEa8VwuLIKbz7T5Oc7bXijs/s1600/university-Johannesburg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDcu-yAv3OpppkO_97WnyVc6UelFON6WGtm7dcdAeJHdpvysq47AkCsHV3igOT9SnGMguIRDVX9wyIZVz0u6L7reSr12LeWwDLU05gSjEbuOxctfaxG23IEa8VwuLIKbz7T5Oc7bXijs/s400/university-Johannesburg.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.hoteldealsafrica.com/africia_city/johannesburg</td></tr>
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*The law school, although he never got his degree.Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1821652354966260490.post-72815837902712071892011-02-05T23:47:00.001+09:002011-02-06T08:26:13.105+09:00My first day of teaching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45RKRHkA-X_N-B4SB2hFC0wFFVoMLm8o8vwsR7yXSUrFE_QoCeIACM6PXN19fFXD3zdn5lyLARH27LfUWhO0MF1j4GnMketfpjr3cDilh5I3tQ7vpFInWSbg2tziQ5xuxVI4Dgm-gZHg/s1600/IMG_1274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45RKRHkA-X_N-B4SB2hFC0wFFVoMLm8o8vwsR7yXSUrFE_QoCeIACM6PXN19fFXD3zdn5lyLARH27LfUWhO0MF1j4GnMketfpjr3cDilh5I3tQ7vpFInWSbg2tziQ5xuxVI4Dgm-gZHg/s320/IMG_1274.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I had my first day as a teacher a little over a year ago.<br />
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I remember being completely terrified. I was still staying in a hotel in downtown Seoul with four of my co-workers. It was comfortable enough; we each had our own rooms with huge beds, TVs, and bathtubs*. The hotel itself was centrally located in a very ritzy part of town, Gangnam, and just down the street from the famed Coex Mall. Unfortunately, I had been placed in a suburb called Pyeongchon, about 45 minutes south of Seoul by subway. I ended up loving "PC" but for a little while it meant a long commute from my urban Seoul hotel.<br />
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The weekend before my first teaching week, I went to the school to meet with my bosses and supervisor. The school was located on a busy street literally bounding with academies. Looming snow-capped hills provided an interesting juxtaposition (and my first experience with the Korean love for the outdoors).<br />
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When I first visited PC, it took me a while before I found the academy I was looking for. Many of the them had signs written in both English and Korean, but mine did not. After a few wrong turns, I found it and walked up the five fights of stairs to the school (a restaurant was on one floor, a math academy on another, and I believe a bar was located in the basement). While there, I received my books and lessons plans, and had a quick look around. I remember being impressed with the classrooms. Many of them had projectors or large TVs, and one had a whiteboard that took up the entire wall. <br />
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The day before my first class, I tried to prep my lessons for the week. I was able to do some of the later lessons, but I couldn't access the mp3s for the first lesson, not knowing that the scripts were in the back of the book. I awoke the next morning to get to school as early as possible so that I could finish prepping. Class didn't start until 4, but I wanted to get there by noon so that I'd have plenty of time. It was painfully cold back then, and I hadn't brought enough warm clothes. I remember wearing tights under my slacks and two pairs of gloves to try to keep warm. I remember that not being helpful. I also wore boots, which I thought would get me through my first real winter but which turned out to be more aesthetic than practical. With no grip on my soles and ice covering the sidewalks, I slipped and slid my way to and from the subway. (Looking back on it, I should have been more grateful for the subway. It was extraordinarily easy to use and cheap. There was a station right outside the hotel and it happened to be the line that went to PC, so I didn't have to make any transfers. I could sit, close my eyes, and listen to music (or people watch)).<br />
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My supervisor met me at the school that morning and helped me get ready for class, but 4 o'clock approached and I hadn't finished prepping the lesson. It was touch-and-go during class. I remember trying to be friendly and cool while also trying to teach them something. I think I accomplished neither. I can't remember much from those first classes, but one thing I'll never forget was listening to the lectures during the class for the first time while the students were taking their exams and trying to answer the exam questions myself, while also monitoring them and looking teacher-ly. It was a train wreck. I was subbing for someone, and I remember thinking to myself,"Oh well, I'll never see these kids again." Of course, I ended up inheriting those classes for the rest of the term. (They didn't turn out to be so bad). <br />
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Class ended at 10 PM and I had about a 20-minute walk back to the subway station and then a 45-minute subway ride back to the hotel. I was exhausted, hungry, and cold. (Korea went on to have the coldest and snowiest winter on record.) Something I didn't realize back then (and another thing I should have been grateful for) was how teeming with life PC and Seoul were even at 11 PM on a weekday. The subways were always full of business people and students. There weren't really any thugs, now that I think about it. In many other cities, it would have been a very bad idea to take the subway or walk around at that time of night alone (I certainly would never do it in Chicago).<br />
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At the end of the day, I looked forward to meeting up with my co-workers and eating some junk food. We all had mini-fridges in our rooms, but with the exception of fruit or milk I didn't keep much in it. Lunch and dinner (and sometimes breakfast) was had at this tiny fast food Korean booth across the street from the hotel. I think I had chicken, rice, and kimchi twice a day for an entire week. J had started teaching the day before me and was also commuting every morning and coming home very late. It was nice to have someone with whom to commiserate and eat Korean fast food. I remember after his first day he came back grumpy and frustrated and told me that it went terribly. After my first day, I could see why. It was 6 hours straight of trying to keep students engaged. Back then, I would get extremely frustrated when they fell asleep or zoned out, but with time I realized that they were at school from 8 AM until 10 PM, and then went home and did homework until who-knows-when. They even went to school on Saturdays. I think that when I realized how over-worked they were I became a much better teacher.<br />
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Both J and I had better second days, and I believe on my third day and his fourth, we moved into our respective apartments. <br />
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*As I understand it, this is a rarity in Korean apartments.Sonalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03935046624619647982noreply@blogger.com0