Perfect day

Oh, it's just a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you

Lou Reed spends his perfect day drinking sangria in the park or feeding animals in the zoo. I spent it with Kari and Sigbjørn, climbing Platteklip Gorge up Table Mountain.

We' had goodbye brekky in Observatory where Hannah, Kari, Sigbjørn, Afra, Nuha, Tawfig, Charity and Christopher had joined for one last time and after a long and delicious breakfast we decided to really climb Table Mountain. It was perfect weather, perfect view, perfect company, so couldn't really have asked for a better way to finish off my Cape Town stay. After a long and slightly strenous climb that will kill my knees tomorrow we were up on the plateau with some amazing view over the city, Camps Bay, Clifton Beaches, the 12 Apostles, Robben Island and more, and the sun was on our side all the time. Had yummy lunch and caught the cable car down. They've revamped it in the past few years, it now takes 65 passengers and does a 360 degree spin during the few minutes it takes to get down. I had various worst-case-scenarioes playing out in my head, and it didn't really help that Kari reminded us that the Ulrik-cable-car in Bergen has fallen down at one point, but we got safe down and is now home in Mowbray for the last supper. Tawfig is cooking his amazing Sudanese lamb curry, and if you remind me I'll cook it for you when I get home.

It's off to Namibia tomorrow (why not?), and then time will tell where the African sun brings me! Cheers!

Last day

The last day somewhere is always kind of special. You want to get as much as possible out of it or repeat something that was really fun that you'd love to do just one more time.

30. January 2001 - Last day in Norway before ten months in Australia: I finished packing and walked around nervously all day. Couldn't stand the thought of saying goodbye to my mum for so long. I cried like a baby when Cristina and dad drove me to Oslo. The next morning as I was boarding the flight it had all turned into butterflies and I couldn't wait for the plane to leave.

30. November 2001 - Last day in Australia after ten months in Australia: I think my plane left in the afternoon, and I'd gotten a few good friends and extended host-family to take me to the airport. As we came into the departure hall another group was standing a few meters away, sobbing like crazy, it was the Finnish exchange girl who sat next to me on the plane down. I had to carry her through customs, because she couldn't see through all her tears.

14. February 2003 - Last day on the Cook Islands: Ah, this was a good one. Astrid, Shabana and me had had a great week on Rarotonga. We'd driven our scooters back to its owner and had a fantastic dinner. Astrid nearly left the island with Shabana's credit card, but we managed to give it to her somehow. The flight was delayed though, so the romantic night was spent on a bench outside as the air con was struggling to combat the 35+ degrees, while we were robbing the vending machine for chocolate.

16. December 2005 - Last day in Australia, and still havent't been back: Buhu, this is a sad one, but I had a great day. Despite my family being in town I'd begged Andy to work one last shift with me and I rocked up at Starbucks at 6am to do my favourite shift with my favourite Starbucks-buddy. We had great fun, mum and Cristina dropped by for a visit and had a latte and we sightseeinged and enjoy the glorious Melbourne the rest of the day. Dinner at Golden Orhcids in China Town and the day was complete.

08. February 2006 - Last day in Norway before heading to Guatemala: I searched through every piece of luggage for my insurance card, but couldn't find it. Stuff I thought in the end. And so I did.

8. May 2006 - Last day in Guatemala: Veronica, Sara, Kristin and me had had a long drive from Copan in Honduras and we arrived in Antigua. Went straight to a Place to Stay Hostel and lovely Raul let us camp out in his backyard. Sara and me went to buy McDonalds and McFlurrys with Hersheys kisses and caramel sauce and we had comida tipica, before heading to Guatemala City and meeting the rest at the hostel there.

21. March 2009 - Last day in Cape Town: time will tell, but it has been a fantastic stay, and I thank everyone involved for their help, support, laughter, ice cream, chocolate, gym companionship, movie buddies, paragliding pilots and the like. Last days sort of imply saying goodbye to people, which always is sad, however, with the philosphy that it's not goodbye, but "See you!" I usually manage. Love you all.

Social pornography

With only a week to go in Cape Town, I've realized it is necessary to speed up the sightseeing and stop spending time getting annoyed over (once again) the new Facebook. On Thursday I had talked the Sudanese friends of ours in to come on a wine tour to Stellenbosch. We started at Cheetah Outreach Centre, an awareness centre for cheetahs and I got to pat six-year-old Joseph. Considering he can get from nought to eighty in three seconds I was quite impressed with my dare devil attitude, but then again, when people have been coming up to me with sloppy, slimy dogs who bark and smell, I've always sneered - I'm a catperson!

Anyway, after this introduction to the African wildlife we continued our very civilized wine tour (at least compared to last time). We only managed to down one bottle between the three Norwegians, and the one tasting we could've done we were late for, so no wine for us, really.

Then yesterday, I'd decided it was time for a reality check and a visit to the shantytowns of Cape Town. You wouldn't want to enter the townships by yourself, and even in the company of our guide I felt extremely uncomfortable. Not because I felt unsafe, as I am quite sure these tours are banned from being robbed by the locals, if not they'll stop running and there'll be no tourists spending their tourist money on pearl bracelets, but because of how I felt we intruded people's privacy. It is social pornography, walking into people's homes, entering their bedrooms (one guy was asleep), and leaving a few coins at the door. Anyway, the guy took us around the Beverly Hills of Langa, and only stopped 100 meters from Joe Slovo, the biggest informal settlement in South Africa, with 20 000 inhabitants, unemployment of 70-80 per cent and an HIV statistic not to be proud over. I think I'm glad we stopped there.

After Langa we went to Khayelitsha and visited a pre-school. The cute children sang and danced for us, and I felt really obliged, and quite happy, to buy some souvenirs from the shop where their mothers worked. From Khayelitsha we went to Waterfront which is the rich as, posh Aker Brygge/Darling Harbour lookalike area and onto the boat to Robben Island. We were taken around the island, visited Nelson Mandela's cell, and enjoyed the panoramic view of the city. As we were going back in, we were all tired, exhausted after a long day with many impressions, but at least it had made us realize that there's a heck of a long way from Camps Bay to Khayelitsha.

Nytolkning av fjellvettreglene

Da Fjellvettreglene er et norsk fenomen, føler jeg at dette innlegget bør skrives på norsk. Alikevel skal jeg la vær å ta så hardt i som Marte som plutselig har blitt nynorskskriver fordi hun har flyttet til Sogndal (mest fordi jeg ikke kan nynorsk, og skjønner ikke språkets rolle i skolen), men her blir det ihvertfall bokmål, om med litt Skiensk slang.

I helgen var vi på tur på Table Mountain, Cape Towns store stolthet og bakgrunn for utallige postkort. Vi hadde planlagt en slak vei opp til toppen, for vi hadde noen heller utrente sudanesere med på tur, men som Tawfig forkynte på klingende norsk: Ut på tur, aldri sur!

Det er et par ting til man bør tenke på før man legger ut på tur i et fjell som tar kverken på flere folk enn Mount Everest. Med tanke på at påsken er rett rundt hjørnet og folk der hjemme snart tar skiene fatt med Kvikk Lunsj i sekken føler jeg det på sitt rette å komme med en liten oppfriskning av fjellvettreglene.

1. Legg ikke ut på langtur uten trening. Nyervervet erfaring fra helga, for å si det mildt. Afra var klar for kapitulasjon innen vi hadde kommet ut av parkeringsplassen, og det var generelt dårlig med stamina blant våre afrikanske gjester. Både Sigbjørn og meg slepte med oss både to og tre sekker på et tidspunkt for å holde humøret oppe og mytteritankene nede i gruppen.

2. Meld fra hvor du går. Enkelt! Jeg skal til Sør Afrika, mamma. Hjemme i april.

3. Vis respekt for værmeldingene. Hehe...hehe...kremt. Ehh, yr.no burde få litt av skylden for uværet vi kom opp i, da deres utsikter for Cape Town generelt slår feil med +/- ti grader. I Norge blir vi glade hvis det er noen grader over det som er meldt, men 38 grader istedenfor 28 kan være litt i heiteste laget.

4. Vær rustet mot uvær og kulde selv på korte turer. Dette er et interessant poeng. For selv om det var knallvær da vi dro fra Constantia Nek har yr.nos villedende værvarsling den siste tiden lært oss noe: ikke stol på værvarselet. Så jeg hadde ihvertfall med en sovepose til om natten, selv om alle lo av dette og mente det kom til å bli altfor varmt, og superundertøy fra Helly Hansen, og skjerf, så joa, var rustet mot uvær og kulde.

5. Lytt til erfarne fjellfolk. Problemet oppstår når guiden er en litt for ivrig middelaldrende mann som synes spreke norske jenter er som bursdag, julaften og 17. mai på samme dag. Når man innen lunsjen har funnet ut av at det er best å ha ihvertfall en meter avstand kan det fort bli problematisk når man må velge mellom (u)skyldig tafsing og finne rett vei hjem.

6. Bruk kart og kompass. Eventuelt stol blindt på guiden. Det som er fordelen med Table Mountain er at det ikke er så stort, og man kan nesten alltid se byen. Problemet er selvfølgelig bare å komme seg dit.

7. Gå ikke alene. Ittj no problem. Vi var 17 stykker, hvorav 12 overnattet i en 30 kvadratmeters hytte, så det var litt vanskelig å være alene faktisk.

8. Vend i tide, det er ingen skam å snu. Da vi våknet søndag morgen var solen fra dagen i forveien ikke til å se noe sted. Steinen foran hytta og utedoen var knapt nok å se, og skodda blåste kraftig bortover fjellvegetasjonen. Det var ganske kult å oppleve egentlig, og siden vi måtte hjem og allerede var fremme var det litt for sent å ta stilling til dette punktet.

9. Spar på kreftene, grav deg ned i snøen om nødvendig. Av mangel på snø blir dette punktet også litt urelevant, men det turen har lært selv tøffe-i-trynet-nordmenn som er født med ski på beina og sekk på ryggen er at naturen og fjellet kødder man ikke med. Selv ikke i Cape Town, selv ikke når man tror det er godt og varmt. Men vi kom oss til slutt trygt ned Nursery Ravine etter to timer med trappegåing og uendelige arabiske klagesanger.

God tur!

HIV positive

Last year UCT offered free and fast HIV-testing of staff and students and five out of the 1500 who got tested during the three-day campaign came out positive.

- What are your results?

I am a bit taken by back by the question posed by the health worker, as I thought she was the one to tell me. She is in her early forties, slightly chubby, has a "Grorud-palme" and a huge smile on her face, despite the grim news she possibly could be the messenger of.

- Negative.

She smiles again. I come to think that if I ever were HIV positive, I would like a lady like her to tell me.

- I like your confidence. Yes, it is negative.

I wasn't really worried, after eight years as a blood donor where Red Cross still wants my blood I'm sure everything is ok, at least they never called to say anything else, but for those five who had their lives changed last year by a lunch time HIV test at university, I can only start imagining the consequences.

- Those who know they are positive won't come to us, she says.

We are nearing the end of an extremely interesting course in HIV/Aids and Social Identity, and we have learned a lot about the disease, the discourses connected to it, its stigma, myths around it, facts and figures, government reports, ignorance and it has been quite an eye-opener. We had visitors from Sudan, Zambia and Norway yesterday and a very interesting presentation by Sigbjørn and Hannah. Openly and in front of 25 spectators they were discussing their experiences, ideas and knowledge about sexuality, and although slightly blushing at times they did a marvellous job enlighting some of the issues around this deadly disease.

- So how do you prevent HIV?

The lady is still smiling, but I'm not off the hook just because the test was negative, and she is now dead serious. How do I keep the status quo?

- Be faithful. And abstinence.

We've heard the ABC(D)-rule hundreds of times, still my mind goes blank. Because, well, I'm not at risk am I?

- Abstinence doesn't work these days, she says. Comdomize, that's my personal favourite!

And her grin is back. I smile too. But still feels slightly akward discussing my personal life with a stranger.

After going through many of our readings I see some patterns emerging. HIV is so deadly because it is ignored, overlooked, hushed about. One of the professors yesterday were telling Hannah off because she claimed to be in a safe position, in a stable relationship where both had been tested. No one is safe, that is ignorance. When relying on your partner you put your health in his hands. And are you sure you are willing to do that?

HIV in South Africa is a major problem. 20% of the population is expected to have it. That means when catching a full minibus taxi into town the person next to you on both sides, in front as well as the driver is most likely infected. And one can then only assume that the rest is affected.

Scandinavians are terrible. It said in one of my readings, a comparative study on youth in Kenya and Sweden, that the Swedish youth looked upon HIV as unrealistic, and not really something to worry about. I'd say that is a worry. Although the disease in Norway so far has been highest prevalent among high risk groups such as gays, prostitutes and drug users there is a rise in the heterosexual population as well, which is alarming. Because if we, in one of the most highly educated countries in the world continue neglecting the seriousness of the disease, what messages does that send to others? How can we expect a poor black woman, living in a shantytown in the Cape flats, having three children and twins on the way to take action and stand up for herself when her husband returns after working six months in the mines, a community usually saturated with prostitution, and tell him please to use a condom?

I think it's time to stop silencing this disease to death, and become a little HIV positive.

Rainbow nation

The term the "Rainbow Nation" is a term coined by Desmond Tutu to describe South Africa after the apartheid rule officially ended in 1994. The phrase was further elaborated upon by former president Nelson Mandela, often just called Madiba which is an honorary term used by elders in Mandela's clan, during his first month of office when he proclaimed: "Each of us is as intimately attached to the soil of this beautiful country as are the famous jacaranda trees of Pretoria and the mimosa trees of the bushveld - a rainbow nation at peace with itself and the world."

The term was intended to encapsulate the unity of multi-culturalism and the cooperation between people of different races, previously being shaped by a strict divide between black and white.

Gay-rights activists in South Africa have interpreted the rainbow link as to mean tolerance of homosexuals in the country. This alternative interpretation connects well with the international rainbow-coloured flag used by gays and lesbians worldwide.

So when we on Saturday had to spend the day in the "Rainbow nation", why not include some children of the rainbow??

We were a bit late to go in to Cape Town, and as we approached Green Point there was no sign of the Gay Pride Parade that was going on. We told the taxi to keep moving, so went back to the CBD, all the way down to the bus station and continued up towards Long Street. Suddenly there was a stop in the traffic, loud music playing and a colourful display of people, balloons and trucks a few hundred meter in front of us. We'd found our parade! Afra, beautiful, innocent, little Afra, a devout Muslim from Sudan, she must have had a little shock, because she had overlooked the fact that it was a gay parade, and probably wasn't aware of the fact that gay parades tend to be slightly exhibitionist, and nudity, bodies and dressing like another gender but your own is frequently on display in such parades. But we followed the mayhem back to Green Point, met Eli from Australia for a beer, and had a very good day in the sun.

Today it was Tawfig's 30th birthday and we had opted for Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens and a picknic and concert. It was Malaika who had the pleasure of entering the stage, and the couple of hundred spectactors had the absolute pleasure watching.

Malaika is one of South Africa's most popular groups, and the demographic among the visitors was quite different from two weeks ago when a 16 piece orchestra had centre stage. It was African rythms from start to finish, and by the second song the band had the whole lawn up and dancing. It was spectacular, it was liberating, and some of their songs about unity and friendship between the races gave me goosebumps despite the 36 degrees scorching heat. All in all a fantastic day, that gave could give me no reasons not to smile.

Paranoia

From the moment I landed in this country it was very easy to see that there are huge differences between rich and poor, black and white, Camps Bay and Khayelitsha and the safety issues have nearly turned into paranoia. When we first arrived we'd happily walk the 20 minutes to uni. It was a quick stroll through some suburbian green areas, then over a footbridge and a few hundred meters next to a freeway. Then one day I was stopped and told not to go there by myself. The black university security guard looked at my milky white skin and said that no, as a white girl this was no place for me. Ok, so I stopped walking there by myself. A few days later Sigbjørn was told by another man not to go that route (he was also by himself) and later that day Kari and me were stopped by two armyguys in full combat gear with machineguns that we should probably start catching the bus. I haven't walked there since.

Then we have the minibus taxies. Rumours has it they like to take tourists on a stroll through unknown areas, but so far we're trying to get into the crowded ones that stay on the road where we're going. This is mostly an issue going to and from the gym, and I'm allright to go here by myself, provided it is daylight and there are other people in the taxi. At night time however, these are a no-no as well.

After dark you don't go out by yourself, and preferably not at all. When we walk home from uni (new, alternative, safer route) we go fast and determined, not alone and there are security cameras and G4s people along the way to make sure things are going ok. The shops are all closed by 6pm so then there's really no reason to go out after that as Mowbray consists of largely banks and hairdressers, but it's still annoying to be trapped inside every night from dusk. If we want to go into town it's taxi to and from, because catching a bus or minibus taxi after hours, no-no.

In addition to the safety issues that are shaping our lives, other little things start emerging, as one might argue, slightly exagerated behavioural patterns. For a starters there are, or have been, loads of coachroaches which is not my favourite animal per se. I've developed routines for opening the fridge (followed by a little backwards jump, in case of falling pests. This was a big problem the first few weeks, they'd drop out of the fridge every time one opened the door. Eeeww!), going to the toilet (always check behind door and around the seat for coachroaches. Again, used to be a bigger problem in the start, but not so much anymore. I had a nasty experience in Esquintla when sleeping in a room with Tonje Camilla, Morten and Andreas. As I went to the loo I noticed a giganormous coachroach half a meter in front of me. I was stunned and quitely removed myself from the bathroom in hope the monster wouldn't follow me to my bed. Needless to say, not a good night's sleep), going to bed (always shake pillow and doona, you never know what bugs might use it as a day time holiday place). But except for these little things reminding me that I'm not safe and sound in Norway, thing are going exceptionally well, and I can always comfort myself with the thought that I'll be home shortly.

Love in the time of cholera

- Do you love him?
- Yes
- Does he love you?
- Yes
- SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!

Afra is again source of my wonderful (South) African experience and is extremely surprised by the fact of how long Norwegians can be together with someone without getting married. In Sudan, if a man likes a woman he should ask her family as soon as possible if they can get married, and it can happen in anything from ten days and onwards. I ask Nuha if people won't see such a wedding as a bit rushed, but she rolls her eyes at me with a smile and says "Insha'Allah, insha'Allah." If it's God's will, they will have his blessing.

I haven't told them about the latest romantic news from Scandinavia, but the fact that Crown Princess Victoria, after eights years with the same man, made her engagement to her personal trainer official today have made the Swedes very happy. Good for them, because they will most likely loose the MGP to us after our very own teenybopper Alexander spellbound the Norwegian population with his folk music inspired violin performance and song about his ex. She has been hunted down by the Norwegian media today, and although getting hitched to a totally different guy, at least he can comfort himself that his now famous fiancée's 15 minutes of fame, probably will only last for 15 minutes.

But wait, there is more love news on Dagbladet today (it's not by chance I've referred to them as "the bad" in the link list to your right), they tell of Mikkel Gaup's very short romance to some sexpert, which could have been a PR-stunt from start to finish as well as some TV-show which appearantly have made rural Norwegian women hurry home from their holidays only to get married in a rush. Couldn't have waited just a few days could it?

A quick reality check from BBC tells us, that, phew, other things are happening in the real world today. They report (although less happily) that the US recession will last well into next year, North Korea plans a rocket launch and NASA's first carbon dioxide measure rocket crash landed into the Antartic sea. It was supposed to pinpoint carbon naughty hotspots around the globe. May I suggest a huge red area just over the launching area? Does NASA offsets its greenhousegas emissions by the way?

But as cholera is strucking Zimbabwe in what is the deadliest outbreak since 1853, at the same time as Mugabe is celebrating his 85th birthday with 8000 bottles of champers and Russican caviar, one wonders whether really all is fair in love and war.

Makeover

Why not? Everybody needs one now and then, and while I really should have been writing on my first assignment, alternatively the twelve-page research proposal to be handed in on Friday, I though it a perfect time to update and refresh the blog. The pic is from Kirstenbosch botanical gardens by the way, during a Sunday concert last week. Because that's what we normally do on Sundays here in Cape Town. Peace out.

TIA

"This is Africa, Maria, this is Africa!" Afra looks at me with comforting eyes, tries to calm my irritable nerves and explains that this is Africa, so I better get used to it. If you can't beat them, join 'em. When in Rome, do as the Romans. I know, I know. I must adapt to the local cultures and vibes, but after of have seen the 12th person at the seventh office in four days I'm getting slightly annoyed with the disorganisation of UCT and wonders why they want to spoil our time along with their own, and not just fix our registration straight away.

It all started on Tuesday last week when we were to register. The twelve of us rocked up at the postgrad humanities building, sat through an introductory lecture and stood in line for 15 minutes only to be told that the form we needed to fill out was unavailable. I know I can get far with a smile and a friendly attitude so went into another line and asked the guy there. Not surprisingly he managed to produce the form we were after. Everyone filled it out and stood in a new line. After 15 minutes we were told it was the wrong line and was sent to a new line, only to be told when we finally reached the office that no, really we should have been in the first line afterall. When we reached the lady there we needed another form from an office that was closed, so come back tomorrow please.

Well, "tomorrow" was last Wednesday when Kari and me went on a winetour instead, but Sigbjørn was stuck at a hot office for hours, filling out loads of forms, none of which were necessary, and paying 300 rand, also unnecessary.

Thursday we wanted to try our luck again and went to IAPO, the international office. Here we were shifted back and forwards between three people, taking copies of passports and in general just doing admin stuff until we finally had the required stamps and could go to the humanities undergrad building. IAPO is located on the lower campus, humanities on the upper, but I was in good spirits and dragged the Zambians and Sudanese all through campus in the schorching heat. When we reached the Beattie-building we were met with signs that due to an appeal their office was closed for the day, so come back tomorrow will ya?

Yesterday my limits were reached, but I nevertheless needed to register so headed once again to the Beattie-building. After waiting for one lady we were told to go to another who marvellously enough had the right form. She sent us back to postgrad humanities building to fetch signatures. Rudi signed one place but refused to sign any other and told us to go back. We knew we needed at least one more signature so asked a second guy who sent us to a third lady who sent us to a fourth guy who signed one place and told us to go and see the dean to get the last signature. As I was about to knock on the dean's office, Charity came running and said I better not, as the dean had nearly bitten their heads of as she had nothing to do with the registration. So we went back to the grumpy lady in the Beattie-building, told her the story and finally got the last clearence.

TIFA - This really is f...fantastic Africa!