This story is about the feelings I had in a Montessori school in South Africa. This wonderful school I went to is called Auburn House School. In that school there were very nice people and I felt like everyone wanted to be my friend. It made me feel so happy.
One of the nice people I met was Iman, she is a kind girl who is my best friend. I am writing about Iman because on the 10th of April I was sitting on the playground and she sat next to me. Iman was very kind so I was kind back to her. One day me and one of my friends that I met on my first day (Haajir) walked over to Iman and asked her why she looked sad. She told us that some of her friends were not her friends anymore. I felt so bad that they weren’t her friends anymore so Haajir and I decided that we should do more things with Iman since she was all alone for at least three days. We then always worked with her or sat with her at lunch. I will always remember Iman because she is a really kind, loving and sweet friend!
On my first day of school I was very shy. Luckily, I knew the teachers so I thought that one of the teachers (Miss Cherry) would show me were to put my stuff. Instead, it was a girl named Bella who showed me where to put my stuff. She had lots of friends but I didn’t play with them because I felt very shy and didn’t know many of the kids she was playing with. So I decided that I would go sit on the steps by myself and wait. After awhile, I walked over to two girls one of them had braids (they call them plats in South Africa) and the other had a ponytail. They told me about the game they were playing. I became friends with them and started playing their game. It took me a couple of days to figure out what their names were. At first, I thought their names were Sydney and Taylor and then I thought their names were Sadhiv and Hacha but then I finally figured out their names were Haajir and Sadhiv. We all became BFFs (best friends forever) after that.
There is this language that we studied in class called Xhosa. One of my teachers, Miss Pili, teaches Xhosa. Xhosa is a native language to South Africa. It is actually a pretty fun language to learn. I liked learning Xhosa better than learning Afrikaans, which is another native language in South Africa. Some funny things that usually happened during Xhosa is that Miss Pili would always put funny things about one of the boys in my class on the board. One time she said he was dancing, singing and laughing. One time, Haajir and I were sitting down at reading time and reading a book about Xhosa words. We were trying to figure out what the word for fart was in Xhosa. We wanted to know because this same boy would always fart in class. No one in the whole class knew the word so we wanted to find out what the word was so that we could tell Miss Pili. The next day we did just that and we told Miss Pili what it was and she wrote down on the board and Haajir and I started laughing so hard while everyone else was looking puzzled.
The difference between the school I went to in Denver and the school I went to in South Africa is that back in USA after our teacher took attendance, we always had to sing The Pledge of a Allegiance but in the school we went to in South Africa we did not have to sing it. Another difference is that in Denver at the elementary school I went to there was only one grade in each classroom instead of three different grades in one classroom at Auburn House School. Some of the things that are the same are that we would always eat our lunch and then after that we would walk to the playground.
The five best words that describe South Africa are: friendly, amazing, best school, beautiful and lots of traffic. It is amazing because of Table Mountain. It is friendly because at the school I went to in Denver the cafeteria ladies were very strict and in South Africa there weren’t really cafeteria ladies who would boss you around. South Africa is beautiful because of all the sites you can see and all the nature with mountains. There is a lot of traffic every morning when we go to school and that is why it took 40-50 minutes to get there every morning. Some days I felt like I would vomit in the car because it was jerking around. The reason why my last word is the best school is because when I entered the school I felt really nervous and I felt like a lot of the kids were staring at me but then when I got to know it I felt like I could just walk around and be normal at the school.
On my last day of school I felt so sad and I remembered that I might never see my best friends or my teachers again. I was soo so so sad I even felt like crying. Since I came to South Africa I never wanted to leave but since I have I am glad I got the experience of being in the school.
Today is our last day in Cape Town and the girls’ last day at Auburn House School. It is hard to believe we have already been here three months and that our time in South Africa must end. We had lots of tears today at the school as we said goodbye and now at home it is sinking in that we really are leaving and the tears are flowing again. I asked one of the teachers today that if she knew ahead of time how painful it would be to say goodbye, would she have agreed to accept our girls in for the one term. She laughed and said “No!” and then went on to say how special they are and how wonderful it has been to have them be a part of the environment. I asked myself the same question this evening as I sat with each of my daughters comforting their tears. My emotional answer is ‘no’, I would rather avoid this difficult goodbye and protect my daughters from pain. The wise, balanced answer however, is ‘yes’. In spite of the pain they are feeling tonight, I would still enroll them in Auburn House School for the one term because if we had not, we would never have been a part of this wonderful, welcoming community of parents, kids and staff.
By the time our last month rolled around, the girls’ friendships were in full swing and each day at pickup time, more and more kids would ask us to arrange times with their parents for play dates. We knew we would never be able to coordinate each one in the short time we had left. This led us to the idea of hosting one big play date for all the kids in the Junior Primary (grades 1-3) who could make it to a park near the school on our last Saturday in town. In my experience, these things are typically hard to coordinate and often require more than two weeks notice, so I was blown away by how many parents and kids were able to come. I only wished we would have thought of this sooner because in that one afternoon we enjoyed easy conversations, made friends with the parents and understood why the girls so quickly fell in love with the community at Auburn House School.
I write this post tonight to say thank you to the principal and teachers for opening your doors and allowing the girls the opportunity to learn in an environment different from their own. They had a taste of two languages, Afrikaans and Xhosa (well three if you count the differences in terms between our English and the South African English). Perhaps you also saw the opportunity for learning and potential benefit of more diversity that a couple of girls from the United States could add to your classroom as well and for that, we are grateful.
We take our new friends with us in our hearts, the medicine of Table Mountain in our bodies and the warmth of community at Auburn House School in our spirits.
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 moresa conscious practice I have learned two things:
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.
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
South Africa is one of the most biodiverse places on earth and home to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. There the country’s unique vegetation flourishes and the Nursery Ravine hike begins. From the entrance of the gardens, you follow a cobblestone path lined with huge clusters of tall, thick bamboo reeds and fig trees. The long branches snake upward to create a canopy overhead. At the fork in the path, continue straight and the canopy suddenly opens revealing the first of many long, wide green lawns surrounded by shrubs, flowers and more trees. Towering above it all is Table Mountain. The gardens are located on the backside of the mountain where you can see the three major peaks: Castle Rock, Fernwood and Devil’s Peak. The trio radiate a powerfully entrancing energy that draws you inside.
Castle Rock
Fernwood Peak is my favorite. The top of the peak is as tall as it is wide and the rock juts out of the fynbos in a sheer, steep cliff. The layers of sediment are shades of gray with a scattering of green from the brush that hang onto the rock with a tight grip.
Our neighbor once told us that many people come to Cape Town for various medical procedures and the wind and air here are often described as the “Cape Doctor”. I think of this every time I see Fernwood and have an urge to be as close to her as possible. When my physiotherapist told me about a hike that starts in Kirstenbosch and leads up to the top of Table Mountain, I was an easy sell. She explained that the trail would eventually lead to the cable car on the other side of the mountain; a ride down would drop us at the stop for the double-decker Red City Tour bus that would then take us back to our car at Kirstenbosch. Based on my research it appeared the whole experience should take about five hours.
I worked hard building the strength in my knees and a month later, during the school holiday the perfect time was upon us. The winds were finally calm and the sky a clear blue. We packed our snacks and lunch and set out unknowingly into our twelve-hour day (yes, you read that correctly…twelve hours, not five). We entered the grounds of Kristenbosch at about 9:30am, followed the map and immediately began our uphill climb toward the Nursery Ravine trail. My PT made it clear that we should follow the Nursery Ravine and not Skeleton Gorge. Skeleton Gorge is much steeper and has several ladders one must use to scale the walls of the cliffs. Nursery Ravine has only one. She assured me that once on top the trail would then “gently undulate” toward the cable car.
The Nursery Ravine trail is more like a long staircase ascending up the side of the mountain for 1,903 ft. (580m) though a forest of tall trees. Step after step this staircase follows the rocky Nursery Stream, which in summer is a trickle but in winter (lucky for us) was flowing in a long beautiful waterfall. Once the trees clear the reward is a close up view of Castle Rock (the girls thought it looked more like a multi-layered cake). The trail takes you right along the side the monstrous rock, which had patches of bright green moss seeping with water. Quinn led the way for most of the two-hour ascent, living up to her nickname of Mountain Goat. We stopped frequently to rest, take pictures and assess our progress (Less rest time and you can make it up in one hour). Once we reached the top we celebrated our success with lunch, long views of the city below and the view of the ocean stretching out in the distance. We all felt ready for the undulating trail that was promised.
The trail, however, did not level out until after another two hours of hiking up, over and through the rocky terrain. On the upside, the unexpected, non-undulating part of the hike allowed me to finally get my feet on my beloved Fernwood Peak. I stopped every now and then to breathe in the beauty and allow her medicine to flow up through my feet. Really, this mountain is that powerful. Jacob usually gives me a loving eye-roll when I talk about nature in this way, but even he agreed the energy was palpable.
Fernwood Peak
Just as when we explored Machu Picchu, I was in awe of the girls’ ability to stick with our hike. They were led by their curiosity instead of glued to the spot by the awareness of their tired legs. Don’t get me wrong, there was a time or ten when the glue tried to take hold but that was when Jacob and I came to the rescue. We have learned that shaming and yelling at our kids (hey, I’m not proud of those moments but every parent has them) does not motivate them to persist at whatever they are trying to accomplish. Positive parenting wins the day every time. We often used snacks to entice them to push on and in the last hour of our six-hour hike (when the trail was finally undulating), Jacob used humor and games to keep them moving forward (I, myself, was lost in the music of the frogs and auburn colors of the fall fynbos).
The signage for most of the trail was severally lacking but once we reached the tip top of Table Mountain, the National Park Service finally marked the way with little yellow feet painted on select rocks. Jacob, in his stroke of genius, named these marks “energy feet”. One step on the marks and both Mackenzie and Quinn sprang into action. There were also low, wooden bridges scattered throughout the trail that elevate hikers over rocks covered with slippery moss. After Quinn took a spill that sent her sprawling, Mackenzie quickly understood the purpose of our energy game and came to Quinn’s rescue by wisely naming the walkways “healing bridges”. That was all it took; Quinn’s bruised knee was miraculously healed and she was on her way again.
Once at the cable car station, Jacob and I sipped happily on a cold beer while the girls ate a free candy ring from the gift shop. We took in the eagle-like view of Table Mountain with its rippling edges that drop into the cornflower blue ocean.
Top of Table Mountain
We reached our destination about an hour later than what was planned but we all had a feeling of pride and achievement. After our rest, we found the end of the hour-long cable car line (need I remind you that this was a holiday weekend, oops). Luckily we met a very nice family and so while Jacob and I were entertained by conversation, the girls were entertained by watching a couple of Rock Dassies (small animals who are a distant cousin to the elephant.) hop across great gaps between steep rocks (an action that indicates they may be adrenalin addicts or evolved without depth perception).
Once at the bottom of our cable car ride, we found our Red City Tour Bus and picked a perfect yet chilly seat on top. Off we went, making the best of the six o’clock hour and rumblings in our tummies (our snacks long gone) by naming our ride the “sunset tour”. There must have been a nagging doubt in Jacob’s head that made him pull out his phone and look up the tour bus route. Suddenly an, “oh, crap!” came from behind me. “Amy,” Jacob said with exhaustion in his voice, “we are on the wrong bus.” “What?” I asked stunned, “There is more than one bus line?”
Why yes, yes in fact there are four. This bus line would neither take us back to Kirstenbosch nor to our car. No, that bus left over an hour ago and was the last one of the day.
I immediately felt shame and panic that I had totally screwed up. I was in charge of this little excursion and it had already been way longer than I anticipated. Travel is a constant test of one’s ability to pay attention to details and thoroughly read all the information before setting out on an excursion and sometimes things happen. Sometimes you take for granted that an outing appears straightforward or that another person’s assessment of what you and your kids can handle is accurate. There is no use stewing about it; flogging yourself does neither you nor anyone else any good at any time but especially when traveling. Plus, these we-survived-it stories are the ones that make blog posts and create laughter when shared with friends, right? After a quick chat with the bus driver it was apparent that our only solution was to find a taxi back to Kirstenbosch. Thankfully, our tour bus tickets were not wasted, they are good for two weeks from the date of purchase and the driver did not scan the barcode when initially got on, whew!
This crazy excursion reminded me that sometimes we get things right and sometimes we don’t but we always go away a little smarter about how to make this crazy journey with our kids work. So, here are a few ways we have become a bit more travel savvy:
Ten Tips for Foreign Travel with Kids:
Understand that travel is slower. Do not try to pack everything in. Either plan for a longer holiday so that you can space out all the places you want to go or prioritize the important places and be ok with it. Remember, no matter how hard you try, you can never see it everything.
Pack lots of snacks and a little extra just in case.
Pack lots of Band-Aids, antiseptic spray and antibiotic ointment. It may seem obvious but don’t forget hats, sunscreen, plenty of water, tissue and toilet paper.
Use positive, motivating games to keep your kids engaged in the present moment (helps cut down on the frequency of the question “are we there yet?”), for example
Count the Stairs
Ask them to find their favorite bug, flower, tree etc
Let them take turns as the photographer
If in a safe spot, let your kids take turns as the leader
Rest, rest, rest and remember to stay in the moment too.
Get them engaged in the planning, where they will go, what they will see, etc. Give them an outline of what the day will entail.
Read about the history or science before you go and talk about it as you are there
Have them carry their own little purse or bag with small toys or coloring stuff inside
Remember that play is the way kids work out their stress and their triumphs. Find a playground when things are tough and you won’t be sorry.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.)
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.
Auburn House School. In that school there were very nice people and I felt like everyone wanted to be my friend. It made me feel so happy.
because of all the sites you can see and all the nature with mountains. There is a lot of traffic every morning when we go to school and that is why it took 40-50 minutes to get there every morning. Some days I felt like I would vomit in the car because it was jerking around. The reason why my last word is the best school is because when I entered the school I felt really nervous and I felt like a lot of the kids were staring at me but then when I got to know it I felt like I could just walk around and be normal at the school.
