Day 1: I arrived in Joburg only to have my very last flight delayed, but the good news is that my luggage made it despite my flight change. The last plane I had to fly onwas named the Jessica. It smelled bad. I couldn’t understand a word the man next to me was saying. I think he was an Afrikaaner. Macrae dragged me all around East London, and I was very confused. My first meal in South Africa was curry. Marcus (our host parents’ son) made it for us. I don’t think he was aware that curry and I are bitter enemies. Rebeckaarrived later that night. Her luggage did not make it, to which I say: “At least you didn’t have to spend an extra 13 hours traveling.” Except I never actually said that, because that would have been rude, and I really do like Rebecka.
Day 2: Macrae, Rebecka and I walked around East London for what seemed like forever. I bought a rock bun at the bakery. It was only 6 Rand, which is about 83 cents in U.S. dollars. But it still wasn’t worth it. Note to self: don’t waste time or resources on rock buns. Next we went to see Auntie P. Auntie P’s house is loud, as everyone in Parkside seems to think it is their second home. Auntie P’s kids Janie and Jaleel and some of their friends had a jam session and sang to Rebecka. I thought it was fun for a while, but also exhausting. Then we went to the grocery store. I purchased the necessaries for survival: unsliced bread, Nutella, cream buns, and all the materials for grilled cheese sandwiches. Fell asleep at 8:30.
Day 3: Went to see Iron Man 2: In which we are back to hating Soviets. All the camera movements used to make it seem like the fighting was semi-cool made me nauseous. Ate lunch at some restaurant where I got the Gooey Cheesy Bread (on the kids menu). The waitress laughed at me, but the joke is on her, because it was only R16, which is like two bucks, by the way. Then we went to Auntie P’s house again to have a Potjie (?). They wanted us to come at noon, even though the potjie was scheduled for 6:00, but we got there at four, which seemed like a really good idea. (It was.) Jaleel fed me some custard stuff for some special reason of his own (I suspect he thought I was lonely) (I also suspect I will be acting lonely all the time if it gets me custard). Auntie P fed us boorevorst in tomato and onion sauce. Rebeckaand I thought this was the potjie, and our tummies nearly cried when Auntie P said it was merely an appetizer. Also, boorevorst doesn’t taste as good as everyone in/from South Africa says it does. They are all liars. Jaleel talked to me all night, as he said that this night was my night, and the next time we came over he would only talk to Rebecka, even though he could handle both of us at once, because he is just that awesome. Then a thousand people came over. Then some people did some break dance, and some little girl beat up Brandon. I was worn out by six o’clock, but Auntie P warned me that the night was still young. It sounded awfully foreboding. I was right to be afraid. The potjie was ready at some point (I didn’t know the time as I was in a time warp), and I couldn’t eat it for the life of me. Not only was half of it curry (a food I have sworn off forever, even though everyone wants to make me eat it all the time), but also I was stuffed full with that “appetizer.” I pawned the meat off on Jaleel, and then gave the gravy Janie. Rebecka taught some kids how to swear in Swedish. I was crying with exhaustion. We still weren’t allowed to go home. Jaleel told me I reminded him of Bella Swan from Twilight. I have never been so offended in my life, and that’s counting the time that someone said I looked like Tom Hanks. We were finally allowed to go home. I have never been so happy.
Day 4: Got up early and went to church. On the way there a white boy got in the taxi with us. This was shocking, because white people never use taxis. You might be thinking, “but Heather, you are also white,” to which I reply “false.” Church was good. Rebecka got a speaking assignment for next week. Awesome. Brett made it home from Baptist service okay, not dead.
3 comments:
Don't worry Heather! You'll always look like Kurt Cobain to me. Can I be Courtney Love?
Once again I am captivated by the fresh, sarcastic, and self-deprecating voice that only you can write in. I will be reading every post you make.
Also, you are much prettier than that Bella chick plus you aren't an idiot.
Dear Heather,
I love you. I don't know who the people you talk about in your blog are, but they sound awesome. I miss you a lot. I'm sorry you must eat curry. I want to hear alllll about it!!
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