The Long Way Round

January 16, 2013 marked one year since I arrived here in South Africa. I am, admittedly, a month late, but in this last year, traveling from one side of the planet to the other, I've tried to document as much as possible on video, and I've cut all those snippets of my travel together here. 

My travels took me from the economic powerhouse of Africa in Johannesburg to the red sand dunes of Sossusvlei in Namibia; deep in the jungles of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (jungles which, two weeks after we left, would be invaded by rebels) and over the undulating canyons carved into the plains of Zambia by the mighty Zambezi, terminating (for now) at the Smoke that Thunders, Victoria Falls; on the beaches of Mauritius, in the middle of the Indian Ocean or Hawaii in the Pacific; and into the wonderful jumble of past, present and future in the land of the rising sun. And I made a quick jaunt to the three other places I've called home so far in my life, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York.

Sometimes it's better to take the shortest route to a destination, but then sometimes I prefer to revel in the journey, to be surprised by the people, the places, the mishaps, and the unexpected encounters that breathe vigor into life from taking the long way round. It's a great, big, beautiful world out there.

It's a Mall World After All

When I first learned that I would be transferred to South Africa, I really only had a vague idea of what to expect, most of which was informed by multiple viewings of District 9, and although I do not doubt the authenticity of its depictions of Johannesburg and its residents, I also wanted to get a second opinion.

Shantytowns and Electric Fences

As I was flying to South Africa, I watched a short program describing the township of Soweto, on the outskirts of Johannesburg. Soweto was established shortly after World War II as a place where Africans evicted by the ruling white National Party from designated white areas in Johannesburg were relocated. This was the beginnings of apartheid. But Sowetans became instrumental in the fight against apartheid. In 1976, the government’s attempt to enforce the teaching of Afrikaans, the language of the white ruling class, in schools led to an uprising in Soweto. Hundreds were killed by the government, but the bloodshed brought the horrors of apartheid to the fore, both within Johannesburg and internationally.  It was the beginning of the final stage in the fight to end apartheid.

Impressions of Jo'burg

Last Saturday, I hopped onto a South African Airways A340-600 in New York, and 15 hours later, a more tired, sweatier, more irritable version of me stepped off the plane and into Johannesburg, South Africa, where I will live for the next six months.  I haven't had much time yet to explore the city, but I'll share with you my early impressions anyhow.

The High Line

There is a nifty little park called the Promenade Plantée in Paris on the Seine’s Right Bank. But this isn’t just any park. No, sir. This is a park perched 25 feet in the air on a former elevated railroad line. This is a park that meanders four and a half miles through the city, beginning near the magnificently unforgettable Opera Bastille and snaking between buildings and over intersections and across tree-lined boulevards before finally making its way to one of Paris’s many gardens on the outskirts of the city. Gone are the railroad tracks that once lined this railroad, replaced by cobblestone walkways weaving through islands of flowers and trees, benches and trellises overgrown with vines. Gone are the passenger and freight trains running its length, replaced by aimless Parisians who can finally enjoy a park that puts them where they always thought they should be: above everyone else.

Hey, New York!

New York is a giant city.  Unbelievably gigantic.  It’s such a large city that when you’re in it, it’s difficult to imagine that there’s much else outside, or much reason to leave.  You want it, the city’s got it: grocery stores on every corner, 24-hour subways, pizza parlors, churches, cathedrals, synagogues and mosques (but, for the love of Christian God, watch where you put those things!).  In the mood for expensive clothes?  I give you Fifth Avenue.  Cheap clothes?  Here’s a Target.  Don’t mind if last season's perfectly good clothes have been shredded?  Here’s the dumpster behind H&M.  Or maybe you need a break, a walk through the woods.  Central Park has you covered.  Horses?  Prospect Park has those.  Water?  There’s the Hudson River (of course, I’m using the term “water” very loosely here).  Museums?  Yeah, we’ve got 86 of them.

Reflections on Raleigh

Fayetteville Street, downtown Raleigh's main thoroughfare.

While I was waiting to hear back from jobs in New York, I stayed with my dad in Raleigh, North Carolina for about a month.  Raleigh is a sleepy town, but, of course, calling someplace a sleepy town suggests there is some mild activity like, you know, breathing, that I have yet to observe in Raleigh.  Instead, here is what I have observed: