Jobbie Job Job

I finally got one. I had a temporary position, working for Sebastien's firm. I mostly pulled together AutoCAD drawings and worked on 3D virtual models of an office. Not grand in scope, but this allowed me to (sort of) set my own work days, ideally approaching companies on my days off to find a job. The woman I worked for (Seb's boss) is great. --Not "great" in the sense that Thia is great (my first boss), because Thia isn't even to be compared, but "great" in the sense that she is fun and flexible and let me work for her office, giving me nice experience. So, long and boring story short, I applied to quite a few firms, got interest from many of them (lots of building being done here), worked two days conditionally at an office, got offers at two which I turned down, and finally got a job that I am very excited about. I am working for a firm called ARG Design, which specializes in sustainable architecture, urban planning, and landscape architecture. This is rare here in South Africa. They are, in fact, the only firm I found in Cape Town that even considers environmental design a viable option. I asked every firm I talked to how much they considered the environment in their design process, and every other firm said that clients won't pay for it (which sadly is usually true). However, and I am so happy about this, ARG is committed to educating clients about human and environmental impacts of design. It is so refreshing. In fact, my second day, I was asked to do research on new water systems that are ideal in New Urbanist communities (of course the client is now fighting for a mall, instead of mixed-use streets with a neighborhood center, but....)! At any rate: so far, so good. They are an entirely Mac-based office, so if anyone has any ArchiCAD hints, I would love to hear them (I am not doing any drafting right now, but it would just be good to know).

Biking....to the End of the WORLD

So, we have started to pack as much physical activity into each weekend as possible. A few weeks ago, we went on a bike tour, which was the perfect beginning to our activity regimen. We were picked up at our house by Louis, the tour coordinator, in a van trailed by about twenty bicycles. We were the first ones picked up, so as we drove around town, picking up about seven other tourists from all over the globe, Louis told Sebastien and I about himself, and places we should go while we are here. He was from Zimbabwe, or "Zim" as everyone here calls it, and like many others I have met, as soon as he moved here, he knew he was home. At any rate, we drove the van around the city, and then past all the popular, touristy beaches, and then kept going to Chapman's Peak Drive, which winds around the Peninsula. On one side of us is a rock wall, and on the other side is a large, imposing cliff and then the rocky coast of the Atlantic Ocean. We drove through towns we had been through before with our roommate, Ryan, like Noordhoek and Haut Bay (in Dutch, "haut" mean's wood), and then drove on to Simon's Town, South Africa's premier naval base town. We got out of the van and went through a park, down to a beach that has a penguin colony of about 3,000. It seems that 20 of these little guys just decided, in the 1980's, that they too needed a change of pace, swam hundreds of miles from islands off the South African coast. They are one of only two mainland penguin colonies in the world. The townspeople think they are pests, and the fences around the beach where they live is as much to protect them from predators, as they are to keep them out of the town. We sadly saw one in the gutter on our way to the beach, who made the sewer his home. We had heard that these penguins are fondly called "Jackass" penguins, because of the sound they make, and when we saw them, it was unbelievable that something so small and cute could produce such a noise. We met back at the van, and within a matter of minutes, Louis had stopped so we could watch a whale off the coast. It was going much faster than he expected it should, this time of year, and we had to start and stop the van a few times to catch up with it. When we finally caught up with it in the bay, it stayed to feed, so we were able to watch for quite a few minutes. Mostly what we saw was its back above the water, and spurts of water coming up from the surface, but it was amazing. They are huge, and to be this close was really wonderful.
We continued along the road until the Cape Peninsula National Park. Here is where the story gets crazy with baboons ("don't feed them"). Baboons on the road, baboons jumping on cars, baboons trying to get into windows to eat a sandwich. Don't feed them. They get angry. They are awesome, and very much like people in ways, but they are quick, and they are hungry, and they get what they want. So, shortly after seeing all the baboons along the roadway, Louis let us out of the van, gave us each a bike, warned us again not to feed the baboons, and off we went, on a narrow road, with small shrubs and protea on both sides of us, and the possibility of seeing animals. We unfortunately didn't see any, but the smells were intoxicating, and the landscape was gorgeous and vast. As I rode, I was amazed that everything smelled like honey. On thinking about this now, I think I was mostly just hungry. After lunch we re-boarded our bicycles and cycled along the same road to a path that leads to the Lighthouse of Good Hope (I made that name up, actually, but I like it). There was one pretty steep point in the road, but it did me some good, and besides - how can you argue with the ocean to look at the entire way? We hiked up to the lighthouse, which is now defunct because it wasn't bright enough, and then over to the new and improved lighthouse, seeing many black lizards on the path as we went. When we met with our tour leader again, he showed us the trail to the actual Cape of Good Hope - the one you used to read about in 6th grade geography - and it was beautiful. We walked on a path of wooden planks, and I worried about people slipping when it is rainy (we were there on a gorgeous day). The planks keep you from tromping over the landscape, and, as I am sure over a million people go there every year, and it is a crucial place, Earth-wise (fact: the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve IS classified as one of the Earth's few ecosystems), I didn't stray from the planks. It is like the moon. Boulders and sparse plants were all that was there besides the lizards. I am sure there were plenty of animals there too, but unfortunately (or probably fortunately), they were in bed under the boulders in the middle of the day.
On the trip back, we saw springboks playing in a field near the Cape, and zebras and water buffalo up the street from our house (at the nature reserve). So, all-in-all, it was a very eventful day, full of lots of animals, and thankfully, some exercise.

Our Corner

Our neighborhood isn't like anywhere I have ever lived. We live about two streets away from "Main Road," where all the businesses are. This neighborhood was historically a place for people in the textile and furniture industries, and there is a brewery (a beautiful one, from what we have seen from up the hill, on this side of the tracks) that we haven't visited yet. This was one of the first neighborhoods that started outside of the city center, and is also one of the closest on the east side. It has always been a very working-class neighborhood, which surprisingly had quite a mix of social groups. There are many Muslim convenience and food stores, Christian churches, and the only Greek Orthodox Church in the whole Western Cape. Simply because of the businesses that were established here, it was a mixed-race neighborhood before Apartheid. When the Group Areas Act was put into place, forcing people out of homes and neighborhoods into areas where they were grouped solely based on race, this neighborhood was deemed for "coloureds." An interesting thing about this neighborhood, though, was that many people just refused to leave. After a while the government kind of left it alone a little, although it did force many people out along the way. A long-time community member and priest was talking about how difficult it was at that time, because family friends would lie to one another about their placement within a race. Say you are born to Malaysian parents, and have mostly "coloured" friends because of it. Suddenly, the government tells your family that you are now "honorarily white," and that you are supposed to leave your neighborhood, no longer associating with long-time friends. Even if you want to keep the friendship up, your friends no longer will associate with you. -So many people just didn't tell anyone about their changes of status, and either moved, but continued to come to community events here, as though they hadn't, OR they evaded the government's attempts to move them. It sounds awful.
Anyway, that is a little glimpse into the history of our neighborhood. It is still a mixed place, but now there are other forces at work. It is a very architecturally nice neighborhood, and it is very close to the city, and housing prices in this neighborhood are CHEAP. So, as logic would follow, people like myself and Sebastien are buying homes here. The neighborhood (at least "Upper" Woodstock, located above Main Road) is quickly gentrifying, and this makes people mad (the fact that people are still being kicked out of the homes they live in also makes them mad). At any rate, this is one of the reasons I don't go out at night, except in the car. It isn't unsafe here after dark, necessarily, but it isn't necessarily "safe" either. Pretty much all the businesses on Main Road close after 6:pm anyway, so it isn't like we are clamoring to get down there past work-hours. What I AM itching to do though is go for a walk, after working at a desk all day, or go for a bike ride, or do SOMETHING slightly active. Almost everyone I know here (and I will say this honestly, because race is such a HUGE issue here: they are all white) goes to the gym. Our roommates go to the gym fairly religiously, before 6:am - I know - I ALWAYS wake up as they are leaving. This is one thing that absolutely drives me batty - I LOVE the outdoors, and want to wander, and sometimes even, want to wander by myself. But (alas) I can't see that happening here. Honestly it would be a dumb idea.

Dude, Pass Me that Roach.

Or rather DON'T pass it, I mean to say.... We have cockroaches. I wasn't going to say anything before, because I didn't want to jinx our house or upset anyone, but they are here. Every couple of weeks, we come home from somewhere fun (thank goodness we are always in a good mood when it happens), and out of the corner of my eye, I see a jerky scurry across the corner of the room, and when I go to look, it has grown from a small blur into a two inch long armored ball of legs and antennae. Gross. AND, I have realized that even if insects don't mate for life, these little guys certainly travel in packs, or at least in pairs. Now, it is a joke around the house that we brought them with us from the States, even though I keep protesting that I have never even seen one in the US; only in our hotel in Peru. Last night there were three. One had been sent to scope out our bedroom, and the other two were making themselves quite at home in the kitchen. Sebastien and Ryan were "in charge" of the kitchen roaches, and I was calming my stomach as I picked up the Seb-squashed bedroom roach. One of the kitchen roaches disappeared, and the other went down the drain, where we thought he was going to join Davie Jones, in his locker. Pretty much as soon as he crawled down there, Ryan took off for bed (avoidance, I think), and Seb came into the living room to do some work. So, I went into the kitchen to wash a few dishes, and as I started scrubbing a pot, two very sudsy, wet antennae started twirling around to the right of my hand. The poor guy was nearly dead (I am assuming now, since I flushed him, he really IS with Davie Jones). When I jumped and screamed what was, I am sure, a very girly screech, his buddy who was formerly in hiding came running out from underneath the dish drain (I know - it IS gross - I agree) to take a quick look, and then run under the top of the counter on top of the washer, to wait for his revenge on his friends' lives. I really believe this. We haven't seen the last of them.

Things I Have, Still, To Write About

I am a bit behind I think. I still haven't written all I want about Paris, and how wonderful it was to spend an evening with my pen pal, Julien, seated on the edge of the Trocadero, while the Eiffel Tower strutted its stuff, glittering its jewel lights for 15 minutes, on the top of every hour. Julien, Sebastien and I sat on the very edge of the battalion, daring the wind to knock one of us off (ok, so we weren't THAT close to the edge) as we drank wine from plastic cups and compared American and French politics. I haven't written about that. I will.
I also still haven't written about how wonderful it was to be in Berlin, with Sebastien's best friend in the world, Nick. To see them together is wonderful. They really love one another. I love watching them together, riffing off one another, singing "Remain in Light" by the Talking Heads and getting totally, completely, and almost annoyingly silly in the kitchen as they make dinner. Being with Nick made me feel on one hand warm, and like home, because he is such a great friend to Sebastien, but on the other hand it made me miss my own friends that much more. We walked around his neighborhood, and - you know how every once in a great while you walk into a store, or past a house, or go to a city, and everything there just seems as though it has always belonged to you and that simultaneously you also subconsciously designed it? well - and I risk sounding quite materialistic now - I found that *something* in Berlin. The city felt wonderful. The people were friendly, but not TOO friendly either. And, well, here it REALLY is: as we walked around Nick's neighborhood, we went into a courtyard to explore, and firstly, there was a lovely cafe that smelled delicious, and I think a record store, and then I saw there was a woolen hat shop. Now, you could blame it on the rain and the cold of Berlin in October, but something happened when I entered that shop. I am honestly glad that Sebastien and Nick stayed outside, or else the same thing might have happened to them. As I stepped across the threshold of the store, my hand uncontrollably shot out from my side, grabbed a hat, and placed it perfectly upon my head. I really had no choice in the matter. This hat was the most amazing and beautiful thing I have seen in a very very long time. It was at the same time very elegant, and quite full of personality. It had the lines and style of a 1920's ladies hat, perfectly covering most of my (then) recently chopped hair, leaving only the sides by the ears to peek out from underneath. As soon as I put it on, I felt quite like someone who could stop buggy traffic in town with a nod, and Seb and Nick both got very quiet, and confirmed this thought. When I took the hat off, and looked at its price tag, I realized that a hand-felted beaver-fleece hat was, of course, much much more expensive than I could ever afford, and that this spell had to be broken quickly, or I risked myself (and my bank account) being broken. I almost threw the hat back onto the rack (it was all I could have done to not just walk out of the store with it on), and when the saleswoman told me that I should own that hat, and that it should belong to me, because it was so perfect, she didn't think I would notice the evil glint in her eye, but believe me; I did see it. If the hat was a spell, then that woman was a sorcerous.

WANTED:

Three days after we got here, we were exploring the neighborhood closest to our house. We had just been talking about ideal work situations, so when we saw a sign for an architect, we rang the bell, and went in to ask for jobs (why not?). Both Sebastien and I had an interview the following Thursday, and Sebastien got a job four days per week, which I would say is a great omen in many ways. I am working in the same office, until I find something that is more full-time. The architect and her father where he got work are quite kindly recommending me to their friends, who seem to be hiring. I am crossing my fingers, but it would be wonderful to get my hands into local building design. I will be working in her office helping with an office remodel for the time-being.

Getting There

To get around there are few options. Probably the most interesting of these are the "Black Cabs," white vans that serve as unofficial taxis. This is the option we pretty much always take now. If you are walking along the main road, within 2 minutes - as long as you are out between 7:am and 6:pm - a van will drive by, whistling and yelling something like "Newlandsclaremontwynlands!!!!!" (three neighborhoods along our normal route) or "Kyleishaphillape!" (two of the townships on the outskirts of the city). They are wonderful. I love them. We saw our very first empty cab today, and it was a strange sight. Normally the vans have between 11-17 people in them, but the other day we were in one that had 20 people, including ourselves. Keep in mind that these are standard-sized vans -- no super-sizing here. If they are full of people, they speed around and get you where you want to go FAST. When they are empty though, you'd better watch your watch; the entire trip you are driving right next to the sidewalk, whistling and yelling to get more customers, and stopping about once a block to harass potential riders. Like I said though, it is definitely interesting.

To Troyes and Beyond

Two days after we returned from Poitiers we headed off from Gare de l'Est on a train to visit Sebastien's grandmother in Troyes. The trip was breathtaking, going through wonderful countryside, over rivers, by the nuclear power plant.... It really was quite beautiful. Seb's grandmother is, of course, SO sweet and lovely. She is very warm and pleasant, and she told me all about her grandchildren, whose pictures are on the wall by the door. Like I said, I wish so much that I spoke French, but some things you can just understand, without knowing what is being said. We walked into town and explored, as per usual during our travels, ancient cathedrals, street cafes, and H&M. Troyes is an amazingly well preserved town. Medieval buildings stock the streets, in government-subsided renovations of historical houses. Although I heard rumors that Troyes is a dying town, I had to question them, because the streets were so alive with young and old. There are about 700 cathedrals (and I am hardly exaggerating), and construction going on everywhere you look. We walked up and down the streets, used the bathroom in the museum basement (don't tell the museum guard - I think he is still looking for us), and finally met Sebastien's "evil twin" cousin, Olivier in the afternoon (he's not really evil - or his twin for that matter, but he IS his cousin). It turns out that three of Olivier's best friends just, this past year, opened up their own bars. We picked one, Dixi, where they would surely all be hanging out, and went for drinks. It was a great night of hanging out, trying on the few French phrases I know, and being the only gal in an (almost) all guy crowd. I made the mistake of asking the bartender where the name "Dixi" was from, and apparently it is from a gambling dice game (no allusion to the deep South), where shots of alcohol are associated with each different roll outcome. Hmmm...... So what if you roll a 7? You can drink an "Eight Bastards," with tobasco, pastice, and rum (on fire, of course). I know; I drank one. Everyone thought that was SO amusing that the bartender started pouring away - that's a good one: get the Americans drunk. I am sure it was fairly amusing, because we had been drinking beers previously. Now I will admit to these being moments of bad decision-making. I considered this a little late though, when we were on our way back to meet Sebastien's dear, sweet grandma for dinner.

Ah, the Splendor

The topography of this city is some of the most amazing I've ever seen. Cape Town is obviously named because it is the southern-most "cape" of Africa, at the top of the Cape Peninsula. The Peninsula is defined by Table Mountain, an amazing blast of rock, visible from nearly every part of the Peninsula, with a beautiful, simple silhouette. The mountain is visible from our living room, but amazingly huge from either street perpendicular to ours. Tonight we saw what people call the "Table Mountain Table Cloth," where fog covers the mountain but barely creeps over the edges. Tomorrow we are going to the top.

Safely Sound

Sebastien and I officially arrived at our destination of Cape Town, South Africa yesterday afternoon(alright, alright - I am a little slow in posting). Our new housemate, Ryan, came to the airport to pick us up and drove us around the entire peninsula, showing us some pretty amazing vistas (photos to follow). He showed us the "lang kir" (very cool) places to hang out along the coast, and showed us where we can get fresh seafood while sitting on a rock, with waves lapping onto our feet. That does sound lang kir to me. We came home, unpacked a bit, showered, and headed out again to have beers aboard a yacht and then sushi with quite an interesting crew. It was Ryan's father's birthday, and his friends held an impromptu party on this beautiful little (hah!) yacht, with everything covered in bubble wrap, cardboard and tape. The next morning the crew of three men sailed off for Florida to sell the boat. A pretty crazy first day. We both slept soundly, let me tell you.

"I says, 'Self', I says. You should go get some french fries. From France."
So I went.

I am on my way to South Africa, via Europe. Sebastien and I flew to Frankfurt, Germany on September 26th (and boy are my arms tired), and we were lucky enough to see one of my most wonderful friends, Caitlin, in the airport!. We have been going since. It has been an amazing, and ill-deservedly wonderful time. We boarded a train from Frankfurt and headed to Paris, where Sebastien has a bit of family.

I have always been skeptical when people say that Paris is "the most wonderful, most beautiful city on Earth - so romantic," blah, blah, blah.... Maybe this isn't the way it is for everyone, but for me - I was skeptical when the Harry Potter books came out and everyone said, "You really should read these books. They are wonderful." --And I would go to a party of successful architects and designers and other seemingly intelligent people, and they are talking about these kids books that apparently everyone and their mother, and their mother's mother has already read. So of course I didn't read them. I am stubborn. And then Book 4 came out, and I finally gave in (because someone loaned me their copy, and I am sure I had lots of laundry to wait for, and nothing ELSE to read). So I read it, and of course (you know), I couldn't put it down. And then I got the second book, and then the third, and then.... They are REALLY interesting and fun books, regardless of how popular they are.


So, I am sure you have heard, and I must confirm the rumor: Paris is beautiful. The city is really "together" in terms of its architecture, and neighborhoods are cohesive and create a wonderful texture that really breathes life into a person. And people, despite the stereotypes, are so kind and considerate, and I really wish I understood even half of what they are saying, because I am sure it is extremely witty and interesting and intelligent.

I do have to say: Paris is a beautiful city - the people, the buildings, the parks, the clothes.... Not the pidgeons (they've got the mange), but it would be quite an adjustment living there. Don't get me wrong - I definitely could live there (well, probably). I picked out neighborhoods in my head even that would be more wonderful than wonderful. I love the canal, and there are so many back streets, with tiny little espresso cafes and book stores that would be amazing, and don't get me wrong - the food is great too, but.... I felt a little inadequate. I know that we are traveling, but I always felt a little dumpier, and a little (ahem) fatter, and (yes this wouldn't be a problem forever, but....) I don't speak French.
Sebastien was such a wonderful tour guide and companion. He knows about every little part of the city, and he was great about telling me the gist of what people were saying to me, but sometimes I wanted more than just the gist, and a word for word translation of every conversation is pretty tough. I felt ignorant, and like a typical tourist. And I got annoyed with myself for wanting every video (alright - there were only two videos - Amelie and Buena Vista Social Club) to be translated, just for me. What an obnoxious American. I hate relying on other people all the time.


But, things couldn't have been better. I feel a little silly about my "never wanting to go to Paris" thing, after all. We went on a couple of day trips while we were there. Last Tuesday we went to Poitiers, the town where Sebastien lived for a year. Only a two hour train ride and we were there. It poured that day, and we were soaking wet. It really must have been a scene. Like when I was in Japan, where the women seem perfectly coiffed at ALL times, even when the temp. hits over 100 degrees F, everyone in Poitiers seemed unaffected by the rain. And we were cold, wet poodles. Luckily, like I said, people in France are great. We went to a cafe and warmed up, saw one of Sebastien's hosts, and went to meet up with his other host family (they are architects). They promptly, and quite kindly I should add, took us out to lunch, and then gave us the keys to their home, so we could dry our clothes. It was a great day after that - dry clothes, drier weather - the sun even came out. Poitier is beautiful. We walked around the cobble streets, up and down the hills, through parks. It is an old city with a young population, because of the huge university there. We decided to finish the day with drinks and a kebob, and then we had to rush to the station - walking briskly - or so was the plan.... The drinks hit me a little more than expected, and when we went to get the kebobs, they took a very very very long time. We sprinted through the pedestrian streets. Right, left, right at the cathedral, down a huge stairway out of the village.... When we got to the station (about a mile and a half later - still holding a bag of kebobs and my watercolor bag in tow), I couldn't stop coughing, and I was really out of breath (and noticeably out of shape).