I climbed Table Mountain yesterday, the great landmark of Cape Town. You can take a cable car up, but I am young and fit and robust, I'm not one of these fat tourists with their baggy t-shirts and plastic visors, I can climb the mountain. Except it's 1,050 METERS UP. WHICH IS A KILOMETER. Which is some relation to a mile, I can't remember the conversion, but I believe it must be more. It felt like more. It took two hours of climbing up a sheer cliff hanging by my fingernails. OK,not quite, there were stone steps and ledges to pull yourself up by, but it was no joke, people. Between that and the mile-long run for the bus yesterday, this is turning out to be like training camp.
It was gorgeous, though. Steep cliffs, bubbling springs, and beyond that the Atlantic. It was stunning. Some hikers probably like to enjoy it in reverent silence, but not me. I like to enjoy it while breathlessly singing "This Is My Father's World" to let any snakes or rodents know I am coming.
At the top, I met three American girls from Texas and Tennessee who also go to Presbyterian churches and are involved in urban ministry and one of them teaches at an urban public school and one's boyfriend is principal of a KIPP school in Nashville. I tell ya, wherever you go, there you are. It was great though, we hung out together for the afternoon and we're trying to connect to go to church tomorrow in one of the townships since they have a friend who worships there. And then we took the cable car down the mountain, which takes about 2 minutes and really minimizes your achievement in getting to the top.
Then I walked along the beach front and walked the several miles home because I am a cheapskate and I don't pay for taxis for places I can walk to, even if that walk will take me two hours. I mean, you pay for lodging because you can't build yourself a hut, and you pay for food because you can't plant a garden or shoot a deer, but I can sure walk.
This morning I had coffee with the priest at St. George's Cathedral. He finds me very interesting and is introducing me to people I can talk to about what faith communities are doing to deal with racial and economic inequity in post-apartheid South Africa. I'm going to volunteer at their soup kitchen a few days a week because it will give me a chance to talk to some folks about life before and after, and the diocese also runs a home for AIDS orphans. I'm hoping it all falls into place because the townships are crazy hard to get to, and there's no place to stay once you get there. It would be easier to stay in the city. But we'll see.
By the way, the place I'm staying right now is this old Victorian house and the door handles and locks are about 2 feet off the ground. It's like it was built for hobbits.
It's pouring rain today, so while some hardy souls might go out and be productive, I believe I will read and drink coffee and try to find old American reruns on TV. So far I've found Desperate Housewives and Days of Our Lives. Add to that the constant loop of old Michael Jackson and Beyonce songs they play on the radio here and I am genuinely proud of our cultural exports, people.
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How IS the coffee? Aparently not as pungent as the Arab coffee since you mention drinking it willingly - often.
It is my relief that the American black people you have mentioned as a pop reference are our relatively innocuous and benign. I keep waiting for you to post about the contingent of SA youths who are sagging, rapping, and dropping out of school because Snopp Dogg told them to.
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