Day 48: All I know about this day is that I went to church. Sorry.
Day 49: I guess this was a Monday?
Day 50: Blog apparently not a priority?
Day 51: Mama Yoyo. Zamani. So good. Love her. Love that place. More please? (This is basically the way I form sentences in isiXhosa and in Afrikaans.)
Day 52: Planning the trip to Durban consuming my life. Sit on the internet for hours trying to find housing.
Day 53: Someone tries to cheat me on housing for Durban. I wasn’t born yesterday, friends. I was actually born 21 years and 21 days ago, to be exact. Nice try.
Day 54: Ate all the perishable foods I owned.
Day 55: So are we going to Durban tomorrow? No? Oh, good. Because we didn’t have a place to stay.
Day 56: Happy Birthday America. May the irony of “every heart beats true ‘neath the red, white, and blue, where there’s never a boast or brag,” never be lost on you.
Day 57: Sometimes, when you wake up when it is dark outside and your yard is completely flooded, all you can do is listen to that song from Winnie the Pooh about the rain rain rain coming down down down and pray that someone will find the message you put in that bottle. Oh, and both of the major malls in East London flooded. It was awesome (unless you were the insurance company that had to pay out for all the damage).
Day 58: Despite the fact that I have a journal entry for this day, I can’t remember what I did. But I think we can all bet that it wasn’t homework, and it probably had something to do with Chinese food and not going to institute because everyone there thought we were in Durban, and it seemed as good an excuse as any.
Day 59: So cat burglaring is probably not a viable career option for me, as I couldn’t get through the bathroom window of the house where we were staying in Grahamstown. Let’s all just be thankful that the neighbors didn’t catch me half in/half out of a house that didn’t belong to me.
The house actually belongs to the Thomases daughter Theresa, and she was gone, but she was letting us stay there, but the key was locked inside and we had to sneak in and get it. And actually, as Kathy and Cornelius pay for the house, I guess we weren’t trespassing at all. It’s technically their house. However, I like pretending that we squatters. Hence the fine print.
Day 60: The National Arts Festival is awesome. If you like to buy things, and be disappointed because all the tickets for Lady Smith Black Mambazo were sold out.
Day 61: Has it ever occurred to you to be thankful that you don’t have to sleep with your jeans and sweaters and coat over your pajamas? Well you should, because it sucks. I never thought of East London as a warm place until I came back from Grahamstown and I didn’t have to sleep in my jeans and sweaters and coat.
Day 62: Church? Again?! I’m beginning to see a pattern here.
Day 63: We actually go to Durban this time. We stop in Ixopo on the way. Wish granted.
Day 64: Let me just say this: I don’t think I could ever date and/or marry someone from South Africa. I’m sorry.
Day 65: Did we go to Moses Mabhida Stadium 8,000 times in the last two days? Yes, we did. You’d think it was the only thing to do in Durban. Aside from going to see Harry Potter. Two days before you suckers back in America.
Day 66: We almost met Nelson Mandela.
Day 67: I learned how to cook South African foods. I will wow you with them when I get home. Just you wait.
Day 68: I read in the sun all day. Just ask Thuveshni.
Day 69: I slept for a long long time.
Day 70: Don’t worry, but I accomplished a lot. I may actually finish most of my course work.
Day 71: Do you know what I find amazing? That I didn’t have anything written in this blog for the past 23 days, and I still remembered what I did almost every day. My memory is pretty kick-a.
