Phoenix has Camelback and Cape Town has Lion's Head

An incredible view!   No one I knew was enthusiastic about walking to the top of Lion's Head, the pointed mountain to the right of Table Mountain when viewing the Cape Town horizon, so I took a taxi to the parking area determined to make my way to the top. ( Cab driver- Norman, from Zimbabawe, married, 3 year old daughter, 3 years in Cape Town, now owns the older Mercedes he was driving, fare of 50 Rand = about $7 -the kind of information I usually glean from the drivers who are all from other countries.)  I was unsure if I should take the trail by myself so I ask a group of young people just getting out of their cars if I could walk along with them.  As a result of the ensuing conversations I learned that Matthew and John were brothers, sons of missionaries living in Mozambique, students at the University of Pretoria, Ruan and his friend were from Cape Town, one of the other girls, Nerina, was from Namibia, and is a pilot.   The trail circles the mountain twice, beginning as a gradual ascent and then becoming an irregular rocky climb, at one point, a short metal ladder and in another place a vertical ledge where chains and hand holds have been installed to make it safer.   I decided to watch the sunset from a flat area near the summit rather than go to the top of the last rocky pinnacle.   The view from this level space strewn with lichen covered granite boulders was spectacular- all of Cape Town, Table Mountain, beaches along the Atlantic Ocean, ships arriving at the port, Robben Island.  Although the winds were calm where I was sitting, I could see the clouds that formed along the ridges, tumble down the steep slopes and dissapate before reaching sea level.   This same down draft was so strong that it clipped the tops of breakers along the beach sending a spray backward toward the open sea.  Using these same winds, paragliders jump from the cliffs of Lion's Head and can stay aloft for as long as 2 hours!  The pointed shadow of Lion's head crept across Cape Town as the city lights began to glow; a few brave individuals, mere specks from this vantage point, walked through the blowing sand on beaches below, climbers continuing to the summit disappeared among the blocks of stone.  The sun set into a low bank of fog that formed along the horizon, first illuminating the wispy high clouds with streaks of pink and yellow and then suddenly disappearing; time to begin a rapid descent in order to reach the parking lot before complete darkness.  Interesting climbing companions, a breathtaking view, a wonderful memory- another day in Cape Town.

Backpacker hostel on Castle St.

The backpacker dorm experience has not been a problem, perhaps a bit inconvenient due to keeping my things in a locker, but I have learned to fall asleep anywhere.   Most of the travelers sharing the room came in after I went to bed and that was about 1 am, but on the second night several were already in bed by 11 pm.  I did wake up briefly smelling the shoes of the person who had left them near my head when he climbed to the third bunk!  I pushed them as far from my bunk as I could reach and fell back asleep.  Not particularly smelly, but disgustingly ugly are the herbed black pieces of dried flesh decorating the window sill by my head.  I think it is something like jerky, but in  a large chunk.  Because they were attracting ants and flies, I moved them to the outside ledge; however, the next day they had somehow managed to work their way back inside.  (Two days later, the pieces have gotten smaller so I guess someone must be consuming them.) 

The candle light service at the Lutheran Church was reminiscent of those at home where children in the audience anxiously await the final hymn, Silent Night, so they can light the candles setting on the back of the pew in front of them.  Playing with the candles is a continual temptation while standing for hymns, sitting for prayers, scripture readings and solo performances. One of the first announcements was a warning that the wood of the 200 year old building was very dry and that the lit candles were to be held with great care.  The highlight of the evening was the solo sung by  12 year old Lanelle Lewies,  whose angelic rendition of O Holy Night would have brought tears to Jesus himself.  Although he was not from the orphanage that was to benefit from a special offering at the close of the service, he captured the attention of those orphans seated across from me, who sometimes figeted during the other songs, mostly sung in English, but occasionally in German or Afrikaans.  For those two hours, hard wooden pews and all, it did seem like Christmastime.

From Cape Town, South Africa, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Fast forward to South Africa

A month of journals since my last report- sorry for the delay and it is not because I have been avoiding internet cafes!!!

Pretoria, met and spent time with my friend Emile, young man from Benin whom I first knew while he was working in the hotel Esplanade in Segou, Mali, three years ago.  He introduced me to his Afrikaan friends with whom we shared several dinners and a trip to a water park.  We visited Johannesburg and Soweto with Emile's friends; the mother works at the Embassy of Benin in Pretoria.   Toured the Nelson Mandela House in Soweto, took photos of the World Cup  soccer stadium nearby  and visited the Piet Peterson Museum, named for a boy who was killed during the demonstrations, and dedicated as a memorial to the struggle against apartheid.  I now have a better understanding of the struggle to eliminate apartheid.  In the evening, we shared a  traditional African meal with the family- pap with sauce and a salad.  Pap is the West African equivalent to rice or mashed potatoes, a paste the consistency of mashed potatoes made from white, finely ground corn flour mixed with water.  It is eaten with the fingers, a small portion on the fingertips dipped in the sauce and scraped off by inverting your hand over your lower teeth.  It is sticky enough not to fall off naturally in the process. Pap is nearly flavorless so it is the spicy sauce that you taste.

observations:
First of all, one's brain does not easily adjust to right hand drive cars and the traffic pattern they create.  I make sure I look in both directions before stepping into the street after having someone grab my shoulder a couple of times to prevent me from decorating the front of a vehicle.  Shifting with your left hand is very awkward!
Security:  I must say that I was not prepared for the security measures taken to protect personal property, but am now beginning to accept it.  Security fences surround homes in middle class neighborhoods, solid walls topped with spikes of razor wire, electronic gates, steelo grillwork fences.  Ground floor windows have security bars or interior folding grills like those of store fronts.   Car watchers or security guards are present in all public parking lots  and provide security along city streets.  These attendants are often refugees from other African countries and are willing to work for the tips they receive. 
When we went to Jaco's house for dinner, we passed through a community security gate manned by a guard who recorded our arrival in a register and then lifted the railroad crossing type barrier and opened the sliding electronic gate.  Jaco met us inside and opened the remaining two electronic gates that blocked portions of the long driveway.  His 4 German shepherd dogs met our car near the house.  Whew!  We had arrived at their island of tranquillity, had a wonderful barbeque dinner in their open air lounge with pitched roof of thatch, and then passed through the security in reverse as we left.  Yes, they have many beautiful things to protect, live on about 6 acres of land on the edge of the city, but at what price?  This situation was created by years of restrictions that resulted in a large class of people living in poverty, inadequate education for poor people, xenephobia.   The last time I passed through such extreme security was when I visited an awards ceremony in the Oregon State Penitentury!    I must say that I have seen less of this type of security in Cape Town and smaller towns I have visited. 

Cape Town:
Emile came to spend time with me in Cape Town, thus my use of the pronoun "we."

This beautiful city is located in a spectacular setting; ocean on one side with white sandy beaches, rocky promentories, hidden coves, Table Mountain and Lion's head forming the backdrop.  We took the cable car to the summit of the mountain in order to a birds eye view of the area.   This rocky, windswept landscape, a world heritage site, is covered in fynbos, a combination of low growing plants that sustain one another and that is found only on the cape.  The weather can change quickly with moisture in the strong updrafts forming dense clouds and fog as it reaches the flat summit.  Flowers are in bloom from miniscule rock plants to proteas and a kind of white straw flower, all bobbing and dancing in the strong breezes.
Table mountain in the afternoon, the Green Point Soccer Stadium at night.  The Mandela Challenge, an annual game between teams from  the USA and South Africa was sold out days before the game.   Our "challenge" was how to obtain tickets for this unique opportunity to watch a game in a world cup stadium.   Confident that it would be possible to attend, we walked with crowds of spectators, tens of thousands of them, holding valid tickets to the stadium following the route that had become legendary during the World Cup matches-crazy hats, colored wigs, national flags, and yes, vuvuzelas!  Near the entrance it was obvious others were also seeking tickets at the last minute and that a few people had them to sell in spite of the law banning such sales and the watchful eyes of everpresent security personnel.   When a transaction seemed to be immanent, a cluster of people would gather drawing the attention of the police.  We observed what was happening, but were not able to find anyone from whom to purchase a pair of tickets.  At one point we witnessed a seemingly successful transaction; the two happy fans left for the stadium and the police quickly surrounded the unfortunate seller, took his wallet and emptied it of the cash he has received!   We did not want to be involved in a similar situation.  With his trained "African" eye, Emile observed the body language of a seller of vuvuzelas who apparently had tickets to sell, but who was waiting for someone willing to meet his asking price.  Inconspiculously, and unsuccessfully,we attempted  to negotiate a reduction to his 800 Rand demand for tickets that originally sold for 100 Rand each,  alas, American major league prices of over $100 for the pair, but determined to attend the game we succombed!  Emile walked along side the seller to verify the authenticity of the tickets while I counted my Rand notes,  at the ok signal from Emile, I quickly caught up and slipped the money into the seller's hand and kept going toward the entrance.  Success!   It was exciting to be inside this unusual structure, a giant, flat, silver colored oval that flares outward from bottom to top, has three tiers of seating, an oval opening over the field, turf grown from Oregon grass seed, and lighting along the edges of the central opening that resembles a giant diamond neckless.  We were seated in the lower tier behind one of the goals with a good view of the field.   A military band played both national anthems, President Zuma of South Africa arrived, ceremonies for the Nelson Mandela Childeren's Fund were held and the game began.   The stands were filled with spectators wearing yellow and green, the incessant sound of vuvuzelas filled the air and occasional attempts were made to start the "wave."  With less than 6 minutes left in the match, the Americans scored the only goal, leaving South African fans quiet and disappointed.   The lady seated next to me explained that many South Africans who had not previously attended games, were now doing so thanks to the excitement generated by the World Cup.  Previously thought of as a lower class, and perhaps "black" sport, the crowds have become much more integrated, a positive step for South Africa.