Ek sal praat Engels.

I just have to start typing about this weekend. My plan was to stop typing about the things I did during the week, but I actually just cannot start with that this week. I am sorry, but not sorry, because you guys have to read this.

Before I came to South Africa, I was wondering what I would do here. I saw beautiful sunsets, enormous mountains, people from different cultures, some elephants wandering around, interesting situations, new habits, painful revelations, a major disparity between rich and poor, a new favourite type of beer, good wine and an incredible new work experience—woops, almost forgot that.
At least, I didn’t see big houses, a bunch of Dutch students, Brie and Camembert in the supermarkets, gluten free restaurants, promenades with white houses, filled with white people and champagne cruises. Yes I know I was also sitting on that deck, sipping a glass of champagne, being all decadent, and enjoying myself.
Anyway, I want to explain how I finally got close to what I was expecting to do here, and it took me only 6 months. This goes mostly for Friday, but will carry through the rest of the weekend, for old times sake.

As many of you know, my good friend Indy came to visit me a view weeks back. And as some of you know, she is still here, because she also fell in love with this country. We did some amazing stuff together, one of them being the Soupsessions for homeless people in the Observatory, but more about this in my next blog.
Although, being in the magnetic market to buy the groceries for these Soupsessions—just this part—was also a situation I expected to experience more in South Africa. Because we where situated at a market with baskets filled with grapes, apples, bananas, plums, anything that falls out of trees or comes from bushes this season, was sold there for a maximum of four euros. On the side of a road, at an outside neighbourhood, with cheap fruits and kind people, this is where I thought I would get all my groceries instead of at Spar.

But, back to last weekend, because I want to keep this as short as possible. New goal, I know, should have started this earlier.
Friday morning we went surfing, and no, this is not a new thing. BUT I did buy a new wetsuit, which means I can go surfing after my internship or go for surf trips. Should have done this in the beginning of this year, but… African laziness overcame me?
After the surfing we went—after buying 200 bread rolls—to the Soup Kitchen. This is the same thing as the Soupsessions, so you’ll have to wait for it. But it is one of the things I would wish I started earlier. After this we went to a reggae party at a Rastafarian community in a township. Yes, in a township. And it was a magical experience.
There is no alcohol, so no stupid drunken people who can drag you into corners, start fights or will just pass out somewhere. Because Rastafarians cannot steal by their believes, it was a safe place as well. Picture this: an old building, young men and old woman dancing, ‘one love’ types of graffiti scattered on the walls, healing herbs getting displayed and smoked in the corners and beautiful Rasta’s flying around. This may be very normal in Jamaica, but for me it was fascinating.
The most amazing thing of this evening was the way everyone danced and the whole atmosphere around these magnificent people. Although I didn’t know these people, I felt more in my comfort zone than I’ve been at parties where I recognized all the faces. I am going to draw this situation, because I am not sure I will be able to visualize it. But I am a true go-getter, also a new goal, so I will try. We were standing quite far in the back, so we had a great view. And sometimes I was observing so intense that I didn’t recognize I was still dancing on the rhythm of two songs before. What did I see then, that caught my eye so badly? First, I saw everyone dancing in their own space, with their own style and their own energy. But then, when they got really excited, they started to jump around, but without hurting or even touching each other. Some of them even ran around the whole dance floor—which was basically the whole place—and started to jump in between. Like happy dogs or rabbits. It has been a long time since I have seen so much energy, especially if you keep in mind that most of these people where probably (very) high- on life, grandma! And those with the most energy, started to do jumping jack kind of moves, or jumped for a solid twelve minutes on one leg. No Red Bull commercial can top that.
Standing outside, the people came to us and asked what it meant for us to be there. As white students from oversees with local black guys. We explained we loved the music and wanted to experience a more pure way of spending your nights than the clubs on Long street, or something like that. There reaction? They where happy we where there and one of them said she was happy we weren’t afraid of them anymore.
I hope you are sitting at home and can see the Rasta’s flying; maybe you have activated your inner Jah and are already listening to one of the Marleys. Because I still have a Saturday and Sunday to explain.

After this real South African Friday, we had a real American Saturday morning. Yes I said the whole ‘coming close to what I wanted to do here’ was mostly about the Friday. An American Saturday morning means waking up with Champagne (we threw a bit of France in the mix), Mamosa’s (Google), random people in our house wearing pyjamas and bare chested guys making (American) pancakes; quite a good way to wake up.
To be sure we would not make it a complete drunk day, we drove—sober—to a beach for the sunset, so we could swim with some glowing plankton in the night. Although the plankton preferred the sand, so that was what really glowed.
And this sounds not as impressive, but still, I wanted to be on empty beaches with beautiful mountains and I got it for the first time this weekend. The mountains where there before, but the beaches are pretty crowded most of the time.

Then, Sunday, we went on a hike to the Cristal Pools. After being told we couldn’t go because we had to pre-book our permit, we assumed this guy also needed a break in which he needs to leave his little wooden hut. And indeed, twenty minutes later we started our hike.
I will leave you with the idea of silence, giant mountains, deep pools, cliff jumps from fifteen meters up and we being the only hikers on route - because I described enough ravishing hikes and swims in my former blogs.

And why in English? Because my new friend also needs to understand me. Simple.

x—