This Side of Amy

sculpture at top of signal hill that reads "your respect is my strength"

The Golden Rule

The drivers in Cape Town are some of the most courteous I have ever encountered. In our daily trek over the mountain pass of Ou Kaapseweg, from Simons Town to the southern suburbs, I have witnessed several small gestures of kindness from the local drivers. For example, similar to the mannered protocol of a ski lift line, when traffic is backed up and someone is trying to merge into the flow, drivers here take turns at the intersection. A practice I have wished for while cursing other drivers when merging into a packed highway in Denver. There is a busy right-hand turn we make every morning on the way to the girls’ school (here, that means turning across oncoming traffic) and if we were in the States, I know we would sit for a long time waiting for a break between cars to gun it across the intersection. However, here, oncoming drivers will slow down to create that break and allow you make your turn without stress. The first time it happened, Jacob was mistrustful of the driver and so hesitated but the driver patiently continued to pause his forward movement and flashed his lights to communicate for Jacob to make his turn.

Many of the major roadways around town are two lanes. Here, a slower driver will move over to the shoulder to allow faster cars to pass (this driving norm also causes me to grit my teeth and hold my breath because there is a huge number of people who walk and hitch hike on the shoulders of the road). Admittedly this shoulder-driving behavior can be observed while driving on the rural highways around Texas so I can’t give all the credit to the South Africans. However, the use of hazard lights and headlights to say “thank you” to the people behind or ahead respectively sets the citizens of Cape Town apart. In the States, it is true that use of goodwill while driving is occasionally met with a wave of a hand to express gratitude but in our era of road rage, in my experience, this is the exception rather than the rule. After discussing our Cape Town traffic observations with a parent from the girls’ school, Jacob was informed that this behavior is more about “car karma” a sort of pay it forward mentality. Whatever the intention, these small acts of kindness have made our commute a little more tolerable (as well as the amazing sunrise every morning).

The theme of kindness and courtesy has been alive throughout our travels. Before we left the States, Jacob and I conversed with a gentleman at a party who gave us the sage advice that simple acts of courtesy will go far with Peruvians, especially with the taxi drivers. He was not wrong about Peruvians and you may be thinking to yourself that common courtesy goes along way with most people. In fact, in the U.S. children are taught the Golden Rule: treat others the way you would like to be treated. However, I have seen in others and experienced in myself the way stress can barricade access to social judgment and highlight the worst in people instead of the best. Self-centered tunnel vision has caused my blood pressure to rise when things are not going the way I anticipated. When this happens, my lessons on the Golden Rule fly out the window and I end up treating my fellow human in a way I would not like to be treated.

One of the first people we met when we arrived to Namibia told us that it is considered rude to launch directly into requests and/or questions of a local person without first engaging in a little small talk or at least an inquiry into how that person is faring. In a simple five-minute conversation with the man on the street corner from whom you are asking directions or the person behind the counter at a gas station taking your money for a coke, a warm connection is made between two strangers.  (warm fuzzies and cold prickles ring a bell for you kids of the ’70s?)  It may not turn into a lifetime of friendship but it allows for each party to be seen and acknowledged as more than just a customer and attendant but rather a person to a person who share more similarities than differences. This social behavior is one that I and I am sure many others around the world already engage in regularly; however, since making these Namibian mores a conscious practice I have learned two things:

  1. It allows me to slow down and realize that nothing is so urgent that I can’t spend a few moments engaged with a stranger in an exchange that will leave us both feeling good.
  2. When a service person approaches me to ask what they can bring and/or help me with and I first inquire into how that person is doing, I get to watch my impact and see their demeanor immediately soften and a smile cross their face. Philosophically, I guess it’s really a selfish act and I’m ok with that.

Throughout our journey, I have tried to hold on to this idea of courteous travel and keep it in the front of my mind. Not surprisingly, I have noticed that it often puts my irrational, knee-jerk reactions to stress in check. More than a few times, it has helped me to step back and take a breath. Even in the face of bad service or the high-pressure street vendors this approach offers me a way to give feedback or be firm in my ‘no’ while also being respectful.  Still, some might think that if I’m rude to the gas station attendant in Outjo, Namibia, flip off the driver who won’t let me into traffic or rant on some stranger’s post on Facebook it won’t matter, right? Why should I care? That person doesn’t know me and I’ll never see that driver or gas station attendant again.  On the contrary, we should care about the way we treat our fellow humans and our actions definitely matter.  It matters how we speak to each other, how we drive, how we express frustration or give feedback.  If we have the intention to be respectful and kind in our interactions with each other, we will spread more kindness.  If we “pay it forward” using disdain and anger, we will create more animosity in the world. Kindness shouldn’t be reserved for people in our own circles of family, friends or people who work in establishments within the radius of our homes.   Respectful, kind and courteous behavior is more than just about manners written in the book by Emily Post. Kindness is a way to create the type of community I want to live in wherever I go, moment by moment at home and across the globe.

The golden way is to be friends with the world and to regard the whole human family as one ~ Muhatma Gandhi

 

Pink Protea with feathery petals

Freedom

Wednesday, April 27th was Freedom Day here in South Africa. To honor this time, the girls were given the week off from school. I took the week off from writing and have been suffering a bit of writer’s block as I attempt to get my head back in the game. Until then, I will share that I have been consumed with learning about the history and social politics of South Africa. As soon as we arrived here I began to learn more about Apartheid. The first book I read is titled: Kaffir Boy: The True Story of A Black Youth’s Coming of Age in Apartheid South Africa by Mark Mathabane. I am now reading A Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela.

It has been interesting to read these books and at the same time watch the political race in the US from across the ocean. I have found myself drawing parallels between the current political rhetoric in the US and the history of Apartheid (translated as “apartness”) in South Africa. It is hard not to see the fear and “separateness” creating more division in the US. When I read about the recent laws that were passed in Mississippi and North Carolina against the LGBTQ community I am reminded of the legislation that was created to marginalize and oppress many South Africans. I know we do not all share the same political views and my intention is not to get on a soap box (this blog is not for that purpose) but want to share with you some of my recent readings that have deeply inspired me. The struggles for freedom in South Africa have made me think about the ways the United States might work to bring community together in all our glorious differences and unite by our shared humanness.

“The Time for the healing of the wounds has come.

The moment to bridge the chasms that divide us has come.

The time to build is upon us.

We have, at last, achieved our political emancipation. We pledge ourselves to liberate all our people from the continuing bondage of poverty, deprivation, suffering, gender and other discrimination.

We succeeded to take our last steps to freedom in conditions of relative peace. We commit ourselves to the construction of a complete and lasting peace.

We have triumphed in the effort to implant hope in the breasts of the millions of our people. We enter into a covenant that we shall build the society in which all South Africans, both black and white, will be able to walk tall, without any fear in their hearts, assured of their inalienable right to human dignity-a rainbow nation at peace with its self and the world.

~excerpt from Nelson Mandela’s inauguration speech on May 10th, 1994 (taken from the ANC website)

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are

Inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful

Beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness

That most frightens us.

 

We say to ourselves

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,

Talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

 

Your playing small

Does not serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about

Shrinking

So that other people won’t feel insecure

Around you.

 

We are all meant to shine.

As children do.

We were born to make manifest

The glory of God that is within us.

 

It’s not just in some of us;

It’s in everyone.

 

And as we let our own light shine,

We unconsciously give other people

Permission to do the same.

Our presence automatically liberates

Others.

 

~Marianne Williamson

This just in:  Quinn lost her first tooth today and happily shouted to all who could hear, “THIS IS THE DAY OF MY LIFE!”

Go With Love,

Amy

peach flowers bloom on a shrub with mountains in background

Fallen for Cape Town

It is autumn here in South Africa.  This season must be a secret Capetonians never tell.  The Swallows have flown from their summer nests back to the UK and full time residents bask in the glow of the autumn sun.  The Fynbos (shrub-land) of the Western Cape shows pops of bright colors from the fall blooms, renewing its claim to the name of Garden Route.  The vineyards begin their metamorphosis from green to amber and finally to rust creating a quilt of colors on the hillsides. The ocean goes from frigid to freezing making feet ache when they touch the water.

The winds are always lurking here in Cape Town no matter the time of year but, as we have been told, are slightly calmer in autumn.  When they do come, the Northeasterlys or Southwesterlys (I’ll learn the difference one day) rise up in a fury. Sometimes they bring sheets of rain that blow across the house in loud bursts. We woke one night to the powerful carwash noise of the rain surrounding the house, pulled the blankets to our chins, and stared up at the ceiling expecting the roof to go spinning off into the sky.

The Davi family at the top of signal hill, posing in a giant postcard.
We were almost blown off the top of Signal Hill.

It is strange to go backwards in season from the end of winter to the end of summer.  Instead of new buds and spring fever, we are watching the leaves change, sunlight wane, our kids go back to school; the flu bug sneaked into our bodies.  Bed-time, dinner-time, and morning-time have become more strict and structured.  We engage in conversations with other parents at school about the coming of the winter season and the enjoy-it-while-you-can talk of the present day’s warmth.  It is so familiar a routine it is almost like we are at home.  Almost, until someone comments on my American accent or I have a double take when the menu reads, “come take a squiz” (as far as I can tell squiz = look).

Autumn for me is a time to bring to light ideas, goals and changes that have been manifesting throughout the year.  At this point on our journey it is hard to know which seeds have grown and which have just shriveled up and become part of the compost. Still, it is tempting to allow the harvest energy to work its way into my psyche, to root around and look for the changes in us that are ready to give nourishment. I laughed out loud this morning as I read an article from a fellow travel blogger who was lamenting her children’s lack of awareness and continued need for “stuff” to make their play exciting. Her kids failed to understand the issues of poverty and could only whine about boredom at the neighbor’s house due to the lack of toys. Whew, that was a validating read. I feel less disappointed in Quinn’s stomping, screaming, snot-flying temper tantrum in the parking garage after I told her she would need to wait to wear her new shoes. It had been a long day and she is just a kid after all and as the blogger concluded, how can I expect her to be at the same intellectual level as me? I’ll keep watering that seed, though.

At first, Mackenzie didn’t like the comments from her new classmates on the way she has “weird” names for things. She didn’t appreciate the giggles she heard when she said trashcan instead of bin and eraser instead of duster but I am elated at her experience of being different. I am grateful for the opportunity to help her learn and understand that her way of speaking is not better or worse than her new friends and vice versa. Jacob and I get to encourage her to have fun with the differences. Her assignment is to gather up the new terms she learns and teach them to us. The theme of oppression and power over groups of people due to differing religious beliefs, skin color, or desire to overtake the land has been poignant. I know these huge abstract concepts are marinating in her brain because she notices them and asks questions about them when we see the acts and effects of oppression depicted in artwork or alive in the shantytowns (which, are more like cities in some places).  These are experiential opportunities for her continue to flourish in her understanding of how to be a human living in love and respect.

sculpture at top of signal hill that reads "your respect is my strength"

For Quinn, she is cultivating her sense of self and discovering her knack for humor.   The Montessori environment was the exact thing she needed to feel safe and confident in returning to formal school. The shelves and materials had the familiarity of past experience; I could feel her sigh of relief on the day we toured the school. Her challenge, however, on her first day was to learn how to navigate the new social environment without her sister. Even though they are in the same classroom, Mackenzie wanted to make her own friends and play separately from her sister. Day one was a painful reality for Quinn that she has to make her own way but for me, it’s a valuable lesson toward self efficacy. Now, of course, she comes home with stories of bringing her new friends into “QuinnWorld (a world that is invisible to outsiders and you need a lollypop to enter).

I know it’s too early to fully realize all of the changes that are going on in each of us. We are still in the planting phase of this “gap year”. Our true harvest time will be when we return to the States at our projected time of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. I am aware that I have never been very patient with the working phase of project development, the extended tension of the in-between place, or the unknown. I want to see the results of my exercise now; the business to flourish before it is even launched; have the knowledge before the process of learning.  I also know it is valuable to stop, lean on the rake, wipe the sweat, catch your breath and notice the pride you feel about the work that you have already accomplished.

…and so, here is another song lyric to guide your day and mine:

 

“Let it flow, let yourself go, slow and low that is the tempo” ~Beastie Boys

 

 

 

Sunrise across the ocean

Morning Meditation

This morning I take a moment to watch the sun rise. Its color like a ripe summer peach, lights up the sky with pink and gold and clouds of purple.

I take a moment to listen to the chatters and squawks of the resident birds and watch the black outline of flocks flying over the ocean to the sunrise.

This morning I take a moment to smell the cool, peppery earth and trees damp with dew.

To feel the gentle tickles from the breeze as it blows the wisps of hair, escaped from their messy bun, across my face.

This morning I take a moment to taste the warm, nutty bitterness of my coffee.

The energy in my heart wakes, aliveness flows in my veins, my feet root into the earth and into the present moment.

Pura Vida

 

 

 

Silver elephant in the green brush with a stormy sky

This Side of Amy: Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

Over the last six months of travel to six different countries, it has been one decision after the next. Some days I wish more than anything we had a pocket travel agent. A little tiny person we carry along who finds the best housing, the best flight for the best price, the best transportation, the best restaurant complete with food my children will eat and so on. As anyone who has ever planned a vacation knows, travel requires many decisions, and sometimes once you get to where you are going, as they say, the best laid plans go to waste. That means you are required to make new decisions on the fly, which can be overwhelming, especially when hunger, exhaustion and hyper kids cloud the access to your rational mind. But hey, this can also be part of the fun, right? Sometimes the new plan works out even better than you could have imagined.

We’ve been doing great so far, with all these choices in front of us. However, in the last two months not only have we been faced with the above list but also with big journey altering decisions.   Our choice to make a long stop in Cape Town was really made by my knees, which created more complicated decisions to be made in a hurry. Decisions about my health, treatment, continuing on after treatment, finances, long term car rental in a location that absolutely requires a car to get around, a long term apartment we can afford. Should we find a school for the girls so they don’t have to sit around with my knees, and me? Then, which one should it be, will it work into our budget? Which doctor do we listen to about surgery, which physical therapist do I go to? Do we apply for an extension on our visa in case I need more time to heal or do we trust 3 months will be enough, what if it’s not and we didn’t extend our visa and I do need surgery? What if what if what if what if what if!!! The whole of the last 2 months has been based on what if….

Calgon take me away.

Someone else tell me what to do, what is the RIGHT way? I need The Universe to send me a real sign, I mean a literal sign that says, “Amy, if you do a. b. c. and d. all will be wonderful and all your dreams will come true”. Like a frickin’ fairy godmother to sing a bit of bippity boppity boo and poof it’s done. Why doesn’t that happen anymore? What has the human race done to chase off sweet cuddly godmothers with rosy cheeks and magic wands?

And then, my sweet daughter comes in the room with a card in her hand from her game, the kind of game that has cards with only pictures and you make up a story, and she tells me, “this is your card mama”. Guess what the picture was? It was a picture of a green field with a stormy sky and the sun starting to break through the clouds. Just like the sky we saw this morning as we came down the mountain pass on the way to see the second-opinion-doctor. The sky had giant thunderhead clouds with beams of sun bursting through in beautiful yellow rays shining down on the houses below. Oh, you mean that kind of sign?

The other day, we stood on the top of Signal Hill, a vantage point to see the whole of Cape Town, Lion’s Rock and Table Mountain. As I took in the experience of seeing the massive, sheer rock wall of Table Mountain, I was washed with a knowing that I will heal in this place that this mountain and the whole of the area is emanating with radiant, loving, healing power. All along our travels, we have been to places like this. Places that filled me full with energy from the earth. So much so that I could neither catch my breath nor articulate my words. The Valley of the Gods in Utah, Machu Picchu in Peru, the La Ceiba jungle in Costa Rica, the brush with the elephants in Namibia and now I get to add Table Mountain in Cape Town to my list of power places.

In these places, I can literally feel the planet radiating energy. It buzzes in my veins, tingles in my hands and feet and fills me a sense of connectedness to myself, to other humans, to the earth, to The Universe. I bet you have felt these kinds of places too. Maybe you have felt the resonance on a mountaintop when the view and wind take your breath away or on a quiet walk through the woods smelling the herbaceous, earthen path. Perhaps when sitting on a beach feeling the sea spray and warmth of the sun on your skin or in your own home when your kids or grandkids crawl up on your lap and give you a kiss on the cheek for no reason.

Tonight, as my head is spinning consumed with the unknown, with the decisions that are still left to make. I remember how I felt up on Signal Hill and I remember that my fairy godmother is right here, right inside of me. If I can quiet myself for just a moment, get out of my own way, really take in the energy of these places and these moments and listen, the best decision will rise up from my intuition. It’s the quieting the self that is tricky. My head is so damned chatty. My pleaser persona scrambles up my true emotions and needs. It creates fear instead of love but I’m learning…I’m learning. Therefore, I leave you with this snippet of a tune to sing for the rest of the day:

“All we need is love, love. Love is all we need. Love is all we need” ~The Beatles

 

(By the way, I’m still working on the pocket travel agent; so far Google will just have to do.)

 

This Side of Amy: Simon’s Town, South Africa

We are now in Simon’s Town, a small village near Cape Town, South Africa about 15 minutes away from our first apartment in Muizenberg. I get to sit at the kitchen table in this stunning house and write my post about Sevilla. As I do, my eyes drift from the computer screen over to the ocean view out the window. My heart leaps with the hope for a view of a dolphin and then falls as the ocean reveals only a dark rock in the near distance. How many times am I going to fall for her trick? Or will that rock turn into a dolphin if I stare at it long enough? There are also Great White Sharks in these waters. Is it the mixing of the Atlantic and Indian oceans that draw them to this bay? Or do the flocks of seagulls that circle in the air and drop like bombs into the water in their death defying fishing technique bring the sharks salivating for a taste of bird? There are professional shark watchers, paid to sit atop the mountain and scan the sea for the Great Whites. The property manager told us that just last week the siren blared shouting at the swimmers and surfers to get out of the water. My eyes widened as she spoke but she just shrugged it off.

Ah, just another day in Cape Town.

This will only be a temporary house for us. Initially, we planned to stay only a week in Cape Town but due to unforeseen circumstances we now plan to stay for three months. The owner of the apartment we stayed in for the last several days had already promised it to other renters for the week after our stay and then would be returning to it themselves after their three-week holiday in New Zealand. Due to the Easter Holiday, it was an incredible challenge to find affordable accommodation. The city is also hosting a large marathon for the same weekend; therefore, the best we could find for the dates we needed was an apartment 40 minutes from my doctor and the girls school and it is unavailable until the 24th. Leaving us homeless for four days.

Acts of kindness come in many different packages. The rental company said they had a house we could use and offered it to us for the same price/night as the much smaller apartment we would be moving into on the 24th. They were battling with the electricity company as the ownership of the house had recently changed hands. It was a risky agreement, book the apartment for the 24th and hope for the electricity to come on in the “stop gap” house. However, now we are here in this huge house the management company kindly opened up for us. It is decorated with antique, colonial fixtures and has way more space than we need; although, the girls have already spread into all of it. They made quick work of exploring this house, running out onto the porch to tell me all about it before I had even stepped foot inside. It is strange to think that this house feels like more space than we need since it is smaller than the house we sold in Denver. I am grateful for my change in viewpoint.

While our stress to find housing to fit our budget and timing was very real, the barbed awareness of my first world problems pierces my consciousness as we drive around the city passing from gorgeous beach homes to corrugated tin shantytowns. I am filled with a growing curiosity about Apartheid and how much its impact on the people here still lingers. I can’t help but assume it is significant when I watch from across the ocean the continued struggle for equality in my own country of the US. The amount of sadness I feel about how horrible humans can be to one another fills me; a victim of my own cognitive dissonance, my mind focuses once again on the beauty of the ocean scene and my eyes drift back to my writing about lovely Sevilla.