Try-Umph Travels: South Africa

I spent six lovely days in the amazing city of Cape Town, South Africa. Cape Town is ridiculously beautiful with its ocean and mountain views. Even as we sailed away I remained in awe.

On the first day I took a sunset hike to the top of Lion’s Head Mountain. I had no hiking experience and didn’t know what to expect. The hike up was tiring for me and made me nervous. When we reached solid rock I noticed how close I was to the edge. If I tripped or misjudged a step I thought for sure I would end up being a headline in the newspaper. It was a long way down! I had to tell myself to stop looking over the edge several times. As exhausted as I was, I am so glad I did it. The view was incredible and I am very proud to say that I hiked up 900 feet. That feeling of amazement and accomplishment will remain with me for many years to come.

After seeing one of the most beautiful sunsets, the next day a group of us took a cable car to the top of Table Mountain. The view of the city from there was as stunning as the sunset I’d experienced the previous night. I remember feeling extremely grateful to take in that scene and all the feelings that came with it.

I didn’t spend all of my time with my head in clouds. There was lots of food involved as well. When I saw a Thai restaurant I was so excited! I hadn’t eaten Thai food in over a month and for me, that is unusual. After getting one of my comfort cuisines I decided to try new dishes. I’ve eaten Cape salmon, an ostrich steak, and grilled crocodile. I wasn’t disappointed. Which one would I eat again? Probably all of them. What I didn't want to try was warthog. Yes, that was an option. Each time I looked at it on the menu I kept thinking about Pumbaa from The Lion King. I just couldn't eat Pumbaa!

One of my favorite mornings came when a group of us visited the University of Cape Town. I love being on a college campus because of the energy and willingness to learn. We spent quite a bit of time walking around, chatting with people, and I enjoyed my group's company. Part of the allure of Semester At Sea is developing relationships with people experiencing the same types of joys, pains, and reflection at the same time.

On the last day in Cape Town a special guest embarked on the ship. Archbishop Desmond Tutu met Semester At Sea faculty and staff during a reception in his honor. He is nearly 80-years-old, but maintains a youthful sense of humor and presence. Following the reception, he addressed the entire shipboard community. His message of interconnectedness and dependence on one another was inspiring. It reminded me of my place in this world as well as the place I should continue to hold for those I am blessed to have in my life. 

Next stop, Mauritius!

Reflections of Cape Town, South Africa

My initial trip to Cape Town occurred when I was twenty-years-old. I prepared to set foot on African soil for the first time filled with a lot of questions and uncertainty. I saw the city—one that didn’t look much different from many cities I’d visited in the States—and wasn’t certain what to make of it. I didn’t recognize it as Africa. It wasn’t the Africa I’d learned about in school or saw on television. I saw excess. I saw commercialism. I saw lush vegetation. I saw a mountain that signified power, strength, and longevity. It was a long way from the dirt-covered, fly-infested, safari-filled Africa that the media and my school books shoved in my face. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was I supposed to be pleased that Africa was more than what I’d been presented? Or should I have been upset by the one-sidedness that I’d been exposed to?

Cape Town, South Africa is an incredibly beautiful, seemingly fictional place. Located on the Atlantic Ocean and surrounded by majestic Table Mountain, it is hard not to be distracted by its breathtaking natural beauty and lush greenery. In addition to its stunning physical allure, the city is filled with an international flare of people. As magnificent as the city and its people are to behold, neither compare to the beauty I’ve found in something far more influential.

I tried to take Cape Town for what it was. I accepted the beauty. I appreciated the sense of familiarity. However, there was something very odd lurking in the seemingly perfect African city. In this picturesque, gorgeous backdrop the remnants of something evil and ugly was hiding that carried about as much weight as Table Mountain. In 1999 apartheid had been over for nine years, and while it was over, the impact was apparent. I’m positive that the residue of apartheid had been lost on some of my fellow classmates, but it was clear to me that I existed in a world that operated differently than what I saw. None of the consumers looked like me. None of the people living near the attractive and charming area that the 600 American students were plopped into looked like me either. I saw people with my complexion, but they were not consumers or residents of the Cape Town I walked around. People who looked like me were behind counters, selling items, or living in areas that required us privileged American students to take a faculty-directed practicum trip in order to see. People who looked like me were not active participants in the economy on Cape Town’s preferred, show-to-company side of town.

I wanted to experience as much of Cape Town as I could, but I wasn’t sure where I fit. Should I shop as the American privileged student and show South Africa that it was possible for someone like me to be an active participant? Should I be ashamed of having the means and more importantly, the audacity to expect that I could walk around in that pristine area with my head held high? What was I to make of the township visits? Were they supposed to show me where my kind belonged? Or should I have looked at it and simply been grateful that I wasn’t born here?

Fast-forward to 2011. I didn’t know how I would feel about Cape Town post-Mandela’s presidential term. Had anything changed? Would I feel as conflicted as I had during my first visit? Once again, I stepped off of the ship filled with uncertainly. I was pulling for Cape Town, though. I was hoping that twelve years had done more for the city than I’d even witnessed at home. I wanted Cape Town to show me that it was serious about revolution. I needed to see what that looked like.

I got off the ship this time and the picture-perfect area that our shipped was docked had expanded. It remained stunning and breathtaking, especially with Table Mountain huddled over it like a proud parent. Economically, I knew that the last twelve years had been good. As I ventured out I looked at the people around me. I looked for the people who looked like me. I saw them. They were behind counters and selling items. Yet they weren’t the only ones behind counters and selling items. Even more encouraging, the people who looked like me were also in line with me. They entered the same stores, ate at the same restaurants. They were a part of Cape Town in a way that I hadn’t seen prior. It made me smile.

I’m not suggesting that all of the work is done or over. There is still a major disparity between rich and poor. Townships still exist. Children from townships still aren’t being educated at the same levels as children who aren’t from townships. However, I can see the progress. In twelve years, improvements have begun. When the manifestation of change is evident it means that the movement has momentum.

I love Cape Town because nearly twenty years after the end of apartheid I can see signs of progress trickle down to the masses. I love Cape Town because it is not afraid to have the difficult, uncomfortable, race-related conversations. I love Cape Town because the student union at the University of Cape Town is named after anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko. I love Cape Town because in the twelve years since I visited, I feel improvement. While I am grateful to have some comfort in the ease of navigating the culture, I love its willingness to transform. While I am in awe of Table Mountain, I love the strength of the people it oversees. While I appreciate its beauty, I love Cape Town so much more for modeling forgiveness, restoration, love, humility, and humanity.

Life at the Top

As I prepared to spend six days in Cape Town, South Africa, I had the fabulous idea to hike Lion’s Head Mountain. I thought it would be a fun way for me to spend an evening and see an incredible sunset. Having absolutely zero hiking experience, I was right about the sunset, but naïve regarding how much fun it would be. I won’t bore you with the details of how my calf muscles and lungs burned not far into my 900-foot trek up the mountain. I will, however, share that what was only supposed to be a fabulous photo opportunity taught me a valuable lesson on experiencing a peak lifestyle. 

The initial part of our ascent was simple because all I had to do was walk. Even still, the steep incline wore me out. What kept me going was the fear of being left behind on a mountain with the name of a ferocious cat in its title. I was relieved when the end of the dirt path signified the end of the horrendous incline. It wasn't long, though, before my relief dissolved. I looked up and saw how far the mountain’s peak loomed over me. I didn’t understand how I could possibly get up that high. There was no path. No flight of stairs. No elevator. No Black Hawk to rescue me. All I saw was rock. Rock stacked on top of more rock.

Part of me wanted to flop down, throw a fit, and refuse to go any further. I didn’t know how to reach the peak of the mountain when there was no trail. I couldn’t fathom a route because the route wasn't paved. There was a path to the top, but I couldn’t visualize it. The path required more creativity than I was willing to give. Instead of going up a clearly marked walkway or flight of stairs, I needed to tap into more. Those in front of me used the rocks—what I viewed as impassable obstacles—to further their climb. My barrier was part of the solution. By themselves they were rocks, but combined with physical exertion, the rocks were the answer. Using the rocks to stretch, pull, and physically work was the only way to get to the top.

Once I exerted energy that extended beyond my normal activity I was able to reach the top of that mountain. As exhausted as I was that night, I will never forget the feeling that came over me when I made it to the top. Even in the days that followed, as I looked at Lion’s Head Mountain—now known as my nemesis—from the valley, I felt great knowing that I stood on its peak. The beauty I experienced outlasted the sensation of breathlessness. The satisfaction I felt as I looked over the bay overshadowed the pain of the bruises on my legs. The pride I feel each time I think of the day I hiked up 900 feet will significantly outlast the time it takes for my muscles to stop aching.

Some of us are on a journey that hasn’t exactly been paved. It’s a journey that requires more energy and vision than we may think we have. Yet those who are determined to experience life on the peak of the mountain must continue climbing, mastering obstacles, and maintaining a level of vision that can only be found in those brave enough to live a life blazing their own trails.