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).