Live from a field in South Africa, Part II

As promised, I now present to you the long awaited sequel to my previous silly concert post. Big American, or rather, big foreign bands don't tend to bother touring South Africa too often. From what I heard form a couple people I met at the concert, neither Radiohead nor Coldplay, who are both huge and ought to have a big British fanbase here, have ever toured this country. According to The Killers themselves, this is the first time they've been around here.

Right, so it was The Killers I went to see on a warm Sunday evening at the start of the December summer. As one might expect, the journey was more of a tale than the concert itself was. Here was the scoop - the parking opened at 4. The doors opened at 6. First band started at 7. Killers came on at 8. That was the plan. I went into this thinking that the show itself started at 6 and I was unaware of any openers. It turned out to be a good thing the Killers came on 2.5 hours later than I expected.

As I understand it, Cape Town, or rather, South Africa, does not catch the eye of big-time bands very often. So, when a band at the peak of its popularity comes through and the Capetonians haven't seen a real music act in some time, everyone seems to go. Well, all the British people, anyhow. The other Capetonians go if they like the band. The next day, there were people all over who I'd run into mentioning the concert, offhand. Often, specifically about how blasted they felt from the previous night.

Upon reaching Paarl, the site of this episode's dusty field, I realized I wasn't sure which exit to get off at. After bumbling around for about 20 minutes, I found my "people" and then realized I could just follow them to the source. Unfortunately, the source was a long way away, and the traffic was only moving slower and slower. I was doing passably well since I had the original plays of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on my player, but then the battery died. Bloody.

At one point, my neighbors directly in front of me left one of their passengers stranded (...20 meters behind) when the traffic abruptly lurched ahead for several seconds. Being the good Samaritan and novel opportunist that I am, I immediately offered to give her a lift... after she asked me for one, of course.

Name was Angela, she goes to UCT, and lives very nearby me. Not a bad deal. So, we chatted about studies and music and what in the blazes some crazy American is doing here.

Allow me a moment of exaltation. I do thoroughly enjoy the camaraderie that springs up amongst fans in such situations. I also like the fact that it quickly disappears to be replaced by harsh animosity when it comes to pushing your way through the crowd.

Angela went back to her car eventually, and the painful traffic subsided somewhat once I exited the highway.

Note to self: When driving to an event whose venue you are not familiar with - its probably best to just do what they tell you. No wait, I can't really be telling myself this. Okay me, nevermind this, I'll figure out what I was really getting at later.

I parked some distance away from the field, not realizing just how far I would need to go. Angela's advice was sadly misinforming. 200 meters was the distance to the road which lead to the field, but the field was some distance further down that road. Some means a lot.

I walked down four stretches of dusty road, alongside the slow stream of motorized vehicles which I barely outpaced. I was not alone, at least, for many had elected to park and walk as I was doing. However, for each turn down a smaller and dustier road, my spirits began to fall. How bloody far away was this place? My retrospective guess is 3 kilometers.

I arrived at the stage. Like, I said, it was a concert. In my opinion, it is difficult for concert not to be enjoyable when you're going to see a band you like and are familiar with. I wandered about the vast field for a few moments, scoping out the food and beer lines. I was nearly tempted to get in line for a burger, but then Human started playing so to hell with the burger. Flowers was even wearing that silly coat with the furry shoulders.

The crowd was large and packed. Nevertheless, I was able to push quite close to the boundary of the proletarian section. As I wormed closer to the stage, a few times I encountered some small and shrinking holes in the crowd, where everywhere around 'twas a mob. I investigated and found people hurriedly rolling up their blankets and packing their tupperwares away.

At last, revenge is mine!

That's right picnickers, I thought to myself, this is going to be a concert so you best just get up and scram. We want to the make the most of our tickets and have a crowd here, not just sit on towels, sip tea, and munch biscuits. Also, they're called COOKIES.

One of the more amusing moments of the concert itself was when you could see the violinist/sequencer guy singing along to the lyrics for everyone to see on the jumbotrons.

Flower's has a really weird voice. I don't think I've ranted about this as much as I ought (as much as I love burger king, for instance). Even when he's just talking, his voice is bizarre. Uniqueness can be a virtue in music, and he can actually sing unlike the majority of "indie rockers." Though he does look like he might be suffering from anorexia.

The set was good. You can judge it here. I think the set was a bit short for what they usually do, but I'm not very sure of this. In anticipation of the part where everyone in the crowd shouts "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" for 6 minutes during All These Things I've Done, I had my camera out for video. Alas, the memory card murdered this creation. Instead, I have found a superior video montage for you to watch.

So. I'd done my homework and was up to speed on how the Killers do their encores. I wanted out of that place quick, but I did want to see and hear the last songs in the encore. I waited outside the gate where I still had a decent view, then dashed when they finished playing When You Were Young.

And I ran. I would stop occasionally on the way back to hang with some groups of people in order to catch my breath and assuage my fear of being suddenly stabbed to death by some madman hiding in the vineyards. Eventually I reached the outer reaches, where I associated myself with a pair (those mentioned at the beginning) of colored people.

I think they were Indian, but it was hard to tell. There are also the Malay around here, who are not to be confused with Malaysians. Don't do that. We discussed much of the usual stuff like What in the blazes am I doing here and How do you like Cape Town? These two had a much more interesting and refreshing view on Cape Town, but both were still very positive about the city in spite of its dysfunction.

Second note to self: Avoid driving to concerts. You've been spoiled by going to the Palladium. Driving to big events is awful.

Yet, safely succeeded in reaching the car, and from there I drove back to Cape Town for some much desired sleep.  The traffic was likely caught at a bottleneck much closer to the field, for I had no trouble getting back on the highway or riding the N1 back to CT.

...until I accidentally got onto the N7.
I hate the N7.

Up the Lion's Head

My apologies for the lack of posts. Blame the massive network of satellites connecting South Africa to the rest of the world because its still can't hold a candle to a massive undersea pipe which will be online anytime now they say. I got all manner of photodumps coming at you though.

For starters, I climbed up Lion's Head Peak with Rainer and some South African chums. Our fearless trail guide told us that this hike has both the best view, and also happens to be one of the easiest.

On the way up, we saw some dung beetles. We didn't see any poop, which was a change from the usual daily routine, but also just a bit confusing. I haven't seen dung beetles anywhere else, so why would they choose to congregate near the top of an uninhabited rock? There's just not a lot of defecating going on around there.

 We also saw many paragliders. Those guys launch themselves from the side of the peak, at a spot along the trail outfitted for this purpose. I may try it out sometime before I leave. You get to soar around the middle of Cape Town with outrageous views for a half hour or more (without any need for piloting skills thanks to having a trained pilot strapped to your back), which sound like a pretty nice deal, especially when you consider how cheap it is compared to some of the other insane stuff you can do down here.

Although, some poor sap was down below the lift off point, pulling a hundred small cords out of a large bush. Somehow he'd botched the takeoff, which struck me as difficult since the takeoff process basically just consists of jumping once into the air. According to the team leader for the day, he shouldn't feel bad since "everyone of us has been down there before, mate!"

Oh, and so as not to deceive anyone, let it be know that it is called a peak for a reason: its less than 2000 feet tall. And there aren't any real cliffs except for the optional part of the trail where you may choose to climb said cliffs by hoisting yourself up a chain. Fun times!

Then we reached the top, and well, our leader was not lying. This was a good view.

 

 

 

 

 

On the way up, I also got to hear all about local politics the antics of African National Congress Youth League president Julius Malema. I will give you the same advice they gave me: check out the vast collection of quotation recorded on his wikipedia page.

And that is all. In the next installment... AIDS.

Elephant Stone

I went up to Silvermine National Park so I could hike to the Elephant Eye on Constantiaberg. I took many pictures.

Silvermine is located "way up" in the mountains on the cape where the European plantations never reached, so the native fynbos has survived there. Fynbos is apparently a biome unique to this small region of the world - found nowhere but along the cape.

 

It isn't too far of a hike (but I don't remember the actual distance since it was in kilometers...) from parking lot across the rocks and slopes of the Silvermine ridge to reach the Elephant's Eye. One has to cross the top of the valley (seen below) just above the tree line. Then, one will reach the lookout.

In my travels thus far, the lookout provided the perfect panoramic view of the Southern Suburbs, winged by the Cape Flats and False Bay.

 

 

 

From the lookout, the Elephant Eye cave is a relatively short walk, though the slopes are sheer and the path is not so wide. Fortunately, one is protected from falling by barbed wire fences. It is as if everyone in South Africa wants to have normal fences but the fence-makers only know how to make barbed wire.

 There's nothing particular special about the above picture, but for some reason the perspective looks unnaturally warped to me.

Anyway, that's the eye. Why an elephant you may ask? Well, if you squint and turn your head a bit, it looks more like an elephant. This angle is key, though. It can be seen from several miles around if you know what to look for, but then it just looks like cliff side hole. Here, you can see the dome of the big head and the center rib of rock running past the right edge of the socket, which strongly resembles the start of a trunk.

The inside is really more interesting. Plants surround and fill the small cavern. It doesn't go very far back, unfortunately. Its been a long time since I've gone spelunking in some quality American caverns. I rather miss it.

... and that was the key photo of the trip. Within the cave is a great spot to relax in the comfort of shade and listen to the climax of Fire Upon the Deep.

 

 On the way back, I got a glimpse at the mini-highlands of Silvermine, featuring the reservoir, a popular local Braai site.

 

It looks like I'll be afforded many opportunities to go hiking in this region in the near future. I've unfortunately forgotten my camera when I've gone to Kirstenbosch and Camps Bay, but I know I'll be returning to these spots, so I'll be sure to properly photograph them then.

Boston to Cape Town Liveblog

Some of you will be familiar with my many adventures in the world of airlines, and this little post is for all of you. I have this wonderful knack for getting screwed over when I fly across the country, which I had to do a lot of in college. In defense of air travel in general, one could argue it was predominantly the fault of United Airlines. I swore once never to fly them again, then sort of forgot that I made such a pact and booked another flight with them. I was not about to forget this a second time. So I don't fly United anymore, and if I have any say I truly never will again. This may not bode well for my angry, ranting stories about my air travel fiascoes which I am told are oh so entertaining. So, I guess its a good thing I'm trying to write about animals now, and not horrible airline angst.

Having heard so many great things about international flights with wi-fi and power outlets next to every seat, I was hoping I would be able to pen a true liveblog of this material, but alas, a KLM Airbus 330-300 just isn't the Concorde. However, much of this was written in-flight so I would not forget key details of the experience.

The trip started out with Lanthe driving me to the airport via zipcar (thanks, girlie). Despite the fact that I was taking an international flight from the get-go, I apparently wasn't going through terminal E - just boring terminal A since the flight was "operated by Northwest Airlines." So after following some extemporaneously devised instructions to the airport and proper terminal, everything was fine.

I have this problem where I own standard style rolly suitcases which I pack to be reasonably full, and they always weigh more than 50 pounds, and I have to get charged, or move my stuff around in order to get my bag under the weight limit. I have one bag in particular which I don't use much anymore. Really, I can't use it because it will always go over the bloody limit no matter how little I think I'm putting in it. I've gotten smaller and smaller bags, and continually run up against the same problem. This time, however, I didn't even weigh them properly, but when I went up to that bag check and plopped them down on the scale, both weighed exactly 50 pounds. Hell yes.

As I sat down in my carefully selected seat for the Amsterdam flight, I was hit by a wave of infantile screams. I was in a four seat row, and only one woman separated me from an Indian mother and her young child. Said child was not very happy to be on our plane. It cried for about half an hour before settling down. I think it (too young for me to be able to tell gender... yes, I know what you might be thinking, but I'm not planning on starting a family for myself anytime too soon) fell asleep after that. Fortune held with me, since (at least at the time I write this paragraph, which is more than 4 hours into the flight) the tyke didn't make an obnoxious sound for the remainder of the flight.

On the Amsterdam flight, the attendant for my region of the plane was an awesomely flamboyant fellow. For those of you old folks in the know, think Adlai, except white.

For the first time in a very long while, I consumed an airline dinners.

attendant: What would you like, chicken or vegetarian?
me: Well, what kind of chicken you got?
attendant: ... Dead chicken?
me: Well, that's a good start, I suppose. What else can you tell me?
attendant: Bad chicken?
attendant: Its really kind of gross. The vegetarian dish is much better, but you have to like curry.
me: Well, its a good thing I do. Let's go with that.

It was rather tasty. I ever managed to get my attendant buddy to get me an extra serving from the back.

While glancing at the map of our route from Boston to Amsterdam, I wondered at how this could be a 7 hour flight, and the next leg could be 11 hours. Geometry be a harsh mistress. Then I realized I was going to be flying over all of fucking Africa, and I really ought to have gotten a window seat in spite of my hate so that I might enjoy the view. Well, my next seat is similar to this one, and I have some decent window views, so I think I'll be okay. Maybe the flight won't be very full, though this one is surprisingly packed.

As the flight came to a close, they sent the duty free carts through the aisles. The were basically just loaded up with cartons of cigarettes and some bottles of booze. They were even the European packaged cigarettes which have 150% more guilt as an ingredient than American cigarettes. They have these huge warnings on the packages saying "Smoking will kill you." Personally, I find them highly amusing, especially when I talk to some of the ridiculous smokers I know about them. Really, they're just wonderful conversation starters in general.

The Amsterdam airport leaves something to be desired in terms of food. Other shopping seems fine, there's storefront after generic storefront for electronics, cigarettes, lighters, chocolates - everything on the earth that you tend to see marked up (but duty free!). However, there were hardly any restaurants to grab some food. There signs everywhere pointing to the one McDonalds in the area, and I was about to break down and get some of that until I saw the massive line and remembered how I'd sworn not to spend my own money on them. All the other options were sit-down restaurants, which I certainly didn't have time for... or so I thought. In the end, I just grabbed a quick "gondola pizza" which was as bad and overpriced as one would expect, for 5 euro, but it hit the spot, and there really were no other options.

At the gate, it took me a little while to figure out what the hell was going on. In Amsterdam, and across all of Europe for all I know, security checks are done at the gate. In theory it makes sense. In practice... well I've not seen nearly enough of these checkpoints to start getting all judgemental. I liked the idea, in spite of the fact that I had already gone through more rigorous security in Boston and generally hate security. Now, because of you have to send everyone through security here, that means the check-in process at the gate begins more than an hour before takeoff. They probably could have used more time. I certainly could have used this downtime which I wasn't aware of to go eat a real meal, but according to Vinayak, that'd cost me about 20 euro in Amsterdam proper, so nabbing a meal in the airport would undoubtedly be close to 30 euro.

Security was all well and good, though. No computer box with me, so now bizarre hang-ups associated with that. I'm getting more and more the feeling that I should have brought the funbox with me. Although my netbook has done surprisingly well for me so far - I've already spent some time using photoshop to touch up some images, and did not really have any performance issues at all.

Anyway, security. All was well. Made friends with another American in the line, one who operates a recording studio in Cape Town. I have a feeling he could give me some mad tips for music on the radio show. Here's a thought for the people on my radio crew: once I get settled, I'll send a local African song to you guys every week and you can play it.

Once the long wait was over, and we were all carefully seated on the very full plane, takeoff continued smoothly. I hadn't slept too much during the first flight, sort of because I wanted to save it up for this 11 hour deathtrap. My plan went quite smoothly. I did not miss a drink or food service, and somehow I completely lost track of about 7 hours of time. I fell asleep during take off, and woke up an hour later to find myself being offered food and drink. One rather tasty chicken dinner and miniature bottle of red wine later, I was ready for the valerian cocktail, which allowed me to continue my conversation with Morpheus.

What happened after that is a bit hazy for a long time. I'd stop and start and glance at the map to find us considerably further south than I might have expected. When I legitimately awoke, I found both my neck and buttocks to be too sore to continue sleeping. None of my standard airplane sleeping position variants afforded me much success. Oh well, it turned out to be time to eat again.

I had a very nice conversation with the English/South African couple seated next to me, and learned a few handy things about the city of Cape Town. I may even have gotten myself an inside edge with their daughter who specializes in tourism and could apparently show me the ropes around Cape Town and possibly some of the surrounding region.

A window seat might have been useful. Clouds are a problem, though. We're two hours out of Cape Town right now, and everything is covered in clouds, so I can't see much of anything anyhow. I'd say the clouds look different here, but I think that is the trick of the setting sun. Looks like there a giant Antarctic ice flow running from here to the horizon.

The quantity of unhappy children on both these flights has been surprising. It has been many a flight (all of which were domestic) since I encountered screaming babies. I suppose it is not too surprising that people traveling such great distances are family types more than the business fliers on my American flights. Or perhaps the semi rule holds true, and the planes are larger and thus the babies more numerous and thus the resulting din is louder overall.

Something amazing just happened in liveblogland. The attendants were pushing their final service carts down the aisle, asking if people wanted ice cream or chips. The guy pushing one of them blunders in such a way as to knock one of the boxes of food off the cart. A woman was standing behind him waiting to get to her seat just past where the cart was currently stationed. At seeing this error, she starts chiding him about it, and he basically asks her if she wants to do it, and she agrees. He takes her seat and she half-assedly continues the service, all leading to more hilarity. When she gets to her seat where the attendant is sitting, she asks, "and you'd like a bottle of wine?" "Yes, please," he replies.

Shazbot, I'm almost there. Its dark outside, which is to be expected, but still a bit disappointing. This sort of feels like what is was like to arrive in Japan really late into the night after a similarly epic flight. My sources on this plane conflict with my others concerning how... "normal" Cape Town is. These people actually live there, though, so I think I can trust them.