Safe and Sound

Just letting everyone know that I made it home safe and sound. I managed to drive home on the right and correct side of the road without any problems. The heat and humidity was a bit overwhelming but I expected no less from a Boston summer. Awaiting the return of the final two and missing David already.

TIA #8

Table mountain, waterfront, and the Fourth

TIA #8 from David Wang on Vimeo.

Checking in from Home

It has been wonderful to follow along as the final four continue on their great adventures. I just got back from my first game at Fenway to catch the last half of the Uruguay Germany game and am feeling just a bit nostalgic. I am sure the final tomorrow will be an amazing time. Might I recommend you all go to that hanger with all the crazy Dutch that I believe Sam mentioned. Either way I am sure it will be an amazing night.

Sam please don't beat Fran up too much in my absence and Fran leave poor Bear Bear alone. Kyle, I loved the last two videos. Please tell me you have at least one more in you (perhaps a rendition of we didn't start the fire?). And Roomie, don't feel too bad about the big step down in roommates; we can meet up again in Brazil next go around.

Nathaniel aka "Teich"

TIA #7

Wine country and a safari

TIA #7 from BHS2010 on Vimeo.

TIA #6

Eating, biking, and Cape Point

TIA #6 from BHS2010 on Vimeo.

5-1= We miss Teich

Honestly, this post should've been written sooner, but let it be known that Nathaniel has returned to Boston. His absence pains the household deeply, very deeply. Nathaniel was the inspiration behind many a great giggle. He also forced us to workout so that we could be super jacked. His "Body By Teich" workout program has turned our putty-like bodies into pure steel. He was also instrumental in the creation of our TIA video series working tirelessly with Kyle to sift through the photos and videos from three different cameras. He introduced us to "For Sale", the real estate card game, that we've played all too much of. Unfortunately, Teich had to head home for work, but his spirit remains here.

Teich, much love!!!

Braai Guy

I'm going to keep it short in the interest of sharing the computer with the rest of the housemates who keep walking by my room with anxious glances at the computer on my lap. The mornings are a difficult time for addicts, and my guess is that the addictions (or should I call them habits?) only get more as we continue developing and refining life's routine. My time in this house has made my own morning addictions all the clearer: coffee, internet (which really could be broken down into micro-habits of checking email, news, Facebook, and miscellaneous thoughts), and of course breakfast.

I am addicted to breakfast. Many mornings I wake up feeling the opposite of hungry, and yet I still find myself popping bread in the toaster, cracking a couple of grade-As on the skillet, and waiting for the butter to get soft enough to spread. I am a lover of breakfast, both big and small. My time in Cape Town has made it all the more clear that what I enjoy is the routine of breakfast as opposed to it's potential hunger-stopping effects.

The gastro-experiences that we've been having in Cape Town have been incredible. At some meals we've only needed to feast on the fresh slices of ciabatta that are put on our table free of charge before feeling satisfaction. But then the other courses come: fresh line fish, stone-baked pizzas, curry filled loaves of bread, chocolate croissants, homemade muesli infused with Greek yogurt and honey. The list goes on. Unfortunately the space in my stomach does not. Each day, I tell myself I'm going to only eat to my stomach's content, but I always end up eating to my heart's content. There must be some sort of physics principle which declares that when price, tastiness, and place are equal to "x" then one will eat until one cannot swallow any more.

The Cape Townians don't make it any easier for us either. The other day we were graciously invited to a South African braai (or BBQ) by our good friend Edward. We met Edward and his ginormous family on the train one day as we were going to climb Table Mountain. They were taking the Metro for the first time in their lives to go see the FIFA Fan Park downtown (the World Cup has done a lot to up the safety and reliability of these lines apparently. Will it last?). They filled up about half of the car, and Fran and I managed to start up a conversation with Edward. And by the time we arrived at Cape Town Station, we had made friends with the whole family and scored an invitation to experience a South African braai.

The next week Edward picked us up and we went to his house. The family had spent most of the week discussing all the items that they would make, and each member ended up bringing enough to feed the entire family themselves. Without going into detail, I'll say that the food was delicious. There were pasta, potato, and green salads. There were cakes, pies, and puddings. There was coke and brandy, beers, and wine. And there was MEAT.

Mark, Edward's brother, manned the braai. They used wood which let off the most delicious and warming aroma one could ask for at a BBQ. The various family members, young and old, continuously would bring out plates of raw meat for Mark to grill. There were steaks, lamb chops, drumsticks, pork chops, sausages, and much more. Each meat had been marinated in it's maker's own recipes which ranged from regular old braai rubs to Coca-cola. Mark was enveloped in a swirl of braai smoke and mouth-watering smells.

We waited hungrily with the rest of the family trying to distract ourselves with the pool table and conversation. Edward served us some hot dogs as an appetizer, but I was more interested in saving my appetite for all the meat that was piling up on the table. We sat for awhile watching the beginnings of South Korea's loss to Argentina (?), and finally dinner was served. And it was every bit as good as we thought, except for the fact that we didn't even get to try everything. We were full before we even got through half of it all. Later we would learn that in addition to the platter of left over meat we couldn't finish, there was also two more trays hidden away in the oven.

Anyway, after that meal I swore off eating, yet the next day I still found myself making breakfast even though my stomach still had a lot of braai digesting to do. Thus, my realization that I'm addicted to breakfast. This has happened a lot over the past month. My housemates are probably getting really anxious to satisfy there own internet cravings this morning, and even if their not, I still need to heed my own urges to throw some bread in the toaster. So, that's it for now.

Also, here are some pictures of our second meal with Edward and his family. They bought us Gatbys which are giant meat, calamari, egg, french fry, greens, cheese -stuffed subs which weigh more than I did when I was born:

Our failed adventures

It was Nathaniel's last full day and for the second time in a week we tried to reach the summit of Table Mountain and tour Robben Island. The first time we tried the weather defeated us as it was raining with gale force winds. This time we woke early, had breakfast at Empire Cafe and drove into Cape Town. It was a beautiful day with out many coulds...perfect for the views from atop the mountain and for our boat ride to the island. As we drove up to the part of the mountain with the cable car we noticed that there was a ton of traffic. We kept pushing up the road and eventually drove past a line that stretched for hundreds of yards. It looked to be over a two hour wait for the cable car that would take us to the top. We were pretty disappointed. We finally found a place to park and took a couple pictures, since we were already elevated well above Cape Town. We then headed towards the V and A waterfront where the ferry for Robben Island leaves from. Our boat was scheduled to leave at 3pm and it was recommended that we get there at 2:30. Since our trip up the mountain was canceled, we had extra time to wander the waterfront and get a bite to eat. We went into the Nelson Mandela Gateway to Robben Island building at 2:30 sharp and waited with a few hundred others until 3:15 when an announcement was made that the 3pm ferry would not be leaving due to technical difficulties. We were pretty upset that for the second time this week we could not go to Robben Island, but what are you going to do. We went to get in line with everyone else for a refund. After another 5-10 minutes a woman's voice came over the loudspeaker and said that the ferry would actually be leaving in a couple minutes and that we should all go back to the loading area to get our tickets scanned. This started a stampede back down the ramp. Some people speculated that perhaps they had overbooked the ferry and just wanted to issue a few refunds and have some people leave so that they wouldn't end up with an overcrowded ship. We had our tickets scanned and got onto the dock, only to be held up once again. We waited on the dock for 5 minutes and the sweet sounding woman informed us that the problem had been returned and the trip was canceled, this time for real. We wandered away, truly devastated that on this beautiful day we did not get to do either of the two excursions that we had planned.

Braai

David will be writing about the braai (SA BBQ) later. We have been having trouble getting on the internet and been busy knocking things off the to do list with Nathaniel leaving.

The Winelands

Finally getting a good day of beautiful weather, we embarked on a trip through wine country with Viv, our host, and her daughter Amy. They very graciously proposed being our designated drivers for the day so we could “fully experience the wine.” (Read: take full advantage of the copious amounts of wine). Three cheers for Viv and Amy!

Driving out of Muizenberg, we cruised down the R310, which takes you along the False Bay coastline on the eastern side of the Cape peninsula. The little two-lane high way winds its way between sand dunes on the edge of collapsing onto the road and the breaking surf, an absolutely magnificent ride. Amy told us that during the apartheid era, many of these beautiful beaches had been ruled colored or black beaches only. This was not only because of proximity to black/colored townships, but also because many of these areas could only be accessed down rocky hills/dunes and have deadly riptides and strong currents. It was a sobering sight to drive through this area with the breathtaking cliffs and beaches out one window and the packed shanty-towns in the townships by the sewage treatment plant on the other.

Going inland, we made our way into wine country going by way of the Strand, a historically Afrikaans neighborhood. Going over some mountains, we arrived at our first winery right off the R310 in Stellenbosch, Vergelegen. Situated on an old Dutch estate, “vergelegen” means “far away,” which this vineyard certainly was from the early Cape Town settlement. Viv and Amy showed us around the estate grounds and the historic mansion of the vineyard founders, fashioned in the traditional Dutch Cape architecture. Kyle was particularly enamored by the little springbok statues all around the gardens. For our first tasting, we tried Vergelegen’s two most famous red and white wines.

Personally, I get rather peeved when people wax poetic about legs and tannins and whatnot. As they ramble their pretentious pants off, I usually fidget about trying to look proper while really thinking in my head “Shut up already and let me drink my wine!” But perhaps that’s just the inner wine-o in me speaking. But wine tasting is an extremely subjective activity; everyone tastes something different in the wine. So, I decided it was time put aside my low-class wine-o tendancies and preference for two-buck Chuck and three dollar André and try something new. Who knows, perhaps we’d become a bit more posh and thus get invited to some more (or any) fancy-schmancy events.

Dave gave us at least a little bit of a wine aficionado air by throwing around some terms like ‘breathing” and “smoky aromas.” Our very helpful wine guide explained how each wine was matured, and had us guess the various smells and flavors we detected in each. We all were giggling a little and looking at each other out of the corners of our eyes, not wanting to be the first to venture a totally off-kilter guess A few finally said “citrus” and “cedar” and “smoke.” I kept my mouth shut because when he had asked what we smelled, I honestly smelled feet and wasn’t about to announce that their wine smelled like a gym locker. Finally, I ventured a guess of mushrooms, a safer word than saying “fungus, namely the ones that grow on feet,” and was awarded by a nod of approval from our wine expert. However, given that he said yes to everything, either he didn’t want to hurt our feelings or our taste buds/smell receptors knew way more than we thought they did. We thoroughly enjoyed our tasting, and after getting over our first instinct to “quaff” (as Viv put it, to throw back) our wine; we learned to hold it on our tongue and bathe our tongues in a glory of fermented grapes.

Next time I crack open a box of Franzia, I will definitely be remembering my newly acquired wine tasting skills.

The rest of our day was spent devouring some bread and cheese on the grounds of another vineyard before dashing off further down the road towards Paarl and the J.C. LeRoux winery. Now J.C. LeRoux, we were informed, was one of the first Frenchman in the area and was one of South Africa’s masters of the “methodé cap classique” which produces what we all dearly call “bubbly” or sparkling wine. (Note: we all call it champagne, but we’ve learned the correct term is sparkling wine unless it actually comes from the area of Champagne in France. Damn French, so picky.) The tour was moderate. They managed to preface every part of their informational video with phrases like “Le Grapes” and “Le music” and the best yet, “Le interesting people.” After the very quick tour where we watched workers loading bottles into the machine to be flash frozen and then recorked, our only comment was “Oh le sigh, where do we get le drunk?” And the fine men and women of the House of J.C. LeRoux did not disappoint as full flutes of sparkling wine after sparkling wine were decanted in front of us as we worked our way from the drier MMC (methodé cap cliassique) wines to the sweeter (and by that I mean molten Jolly Ranchers) sparkling wines. Verdict: There was more to bubbly than we thought. There is also more carbonation in bubbly than I thought and which Kyle discovered when I burped champagne breath loudly in his face.

Oh excuse me, sparkling wine breath. Mon Dieu!

Tired and sleepy, the ever-energetic and enduring (bless them) Viv and Amy drove us over to Franschoek, the French-influenced town in South Africa’s wine country for some sustenance and namely pancakes. Satiated and happy, we drove in the approaching dusk through the mountains back home to Muizenberg, happy, full of wine, and feeling just a little bit more posh than we did this morning.

The glory vuvuzela

Cape Town's streets are awash with vuvuzelas, the long-stemmed South African horn that has revolutionized World Cup fandom. You can buy the vuvuzelas for anywhere between R35 to R150 depending on the adornments and quality. The best vuvuzelas come wrapped in wire and beads in patterns that support your favorite team. While Brazil, England, and South Africa are all well-represented at the street stalls, but vuvus carrying the stars and stripes are all but invisible on the streets.

After Fran's rant, Nathaniel and I were in the market for a vuvuzela to torture him with but we couldn't find an American one. We eventually settled on a Brazilian vuvuzela which we bought right before the N. Korea v. Portugal game. The vuvuzela was a source of great enjoyment and pleasure, and it was used as a crucial weapon in the battle between Fran and Bear Bear.
However we needed an American vuvuzela to support our Yankee team and there was none to be bought.

So with a little change in our pockets we went to the grocery store and bought some red, white, and blue supplies. The store didn't have many art supplies but all we really needed was glue. We found hair scrunchies, ribbon, bottle caps, cotton balls, and all kinds of little things that could be applied to the vuvuzela.

Before the USA v Algeria game, I decked out the vuvuzela in the finest of stars, stripes, and red, white and blue. It was a one of a kind vuvuzela, one that the security guards at the Fan Park stopped me for just to admire. There was some debate as to whether or not the decorations limited the volume of the instrument, but it was soon concluded that I just wasn't good at blowing it.














After the game, the vuvuzela was in need of some repair. Many of the 1 rand coins we had glued on had fallen off, and the cotton balls had unravelled to give the horn a dreadlocked beard. So, for the USA v Ghana game we added some blue bottle caps with aluminum stars glued on the tops, a poofy blue ball, some more white stripes, and a troll blowing a mini vuvuzela (as well as some general repairs).

It was quite a piece to behold but it didn't last for long. After the US's loss that night. The vuvuzela was dismantled in frustration, and returned to it's Brazilian form.