South Africa Impressions

South Africa is incredibly complex.  Or course every country is, but here so much is communicated in English that it is much easier to learn about the history and social structure than it was in other places we’ve recently been.  Perhaps what strikes me the most about being in South Africa is how visible everything is.  Here you can see extreme wealth and extreme poverty at each other’s doorsteps.  Mansions in upper Cape Town and shacks in the townships.  Laborers in the countryside in the Western Cape, for example, earn an average of 50 rand a day (approximately six USD) for eight hours of hard labor. Meanwhile, a decent meal at a restaurant in Cape Town costs at least 50 rand.  The gaps are so large it is not hard to believe that crime is such a big issue (though to be sure most South Africans would never turn to crime and deplore it).  I rather like this quote from the book Disgrace by South African author J.M. Coetzee.  In it, the main character and his daughter were just robbed:

“A risk to own anything: a car, a pair of shoes, a packet of cigarettes.  Not enough to go around, not enough cars, shoes, cigarettes. Too many people, too few things. What there is must go into circulation, so that everyone can have a chance to be happy for a day.  That is the theory: hold to the theory and to the comforts of theory.  Not human evil, just a vast circulatory sytem, to whose workings pity and terror are irrelevant.  That is how one must see life in this country; in its schematic aspect. Otherwise one could go mad.” 

The legacy of colonial oppression and apartheid lives on as well, along with the categories it created: white (Afrikaans vs English), black, coloured, Indian, etc.  So much is determined which group you belong to: opportunity for education and jobs, where you can live, and the preconceptions people will form about you.  It is certainly impossible for the government to reverse 400 years of history in just the 14 they’ve had since apartheid ended, but also remarkable how little has changed for so many people. 

Coming from the US, I would be wrong to look at these issues as unique to South Africa.  It is just that nothing is hidden here as it seems to be at home.  For better or worse, we seem much smoother at glossing over such issues with politically correct language, and in hiding poverty and racial isseus away from site as best we can (both hidden away in our country and hidden even further away in the countries from which we send and receive goods or choose to occupy).  Having everything so open here certainly makes you think a lot, and at least for me, makes me far more thoughtful about my privelage, my actions and their consequences. 

And while I began with the negatives, there is also so much that is good and beautiful here.  So many of the people we’ve met have been hopeful about the future.  We visited Robben Island over the weekend, the island off of Cape Town where many opponents of apartheid were held (including Nelson Mandela).  Tours are given by former political prisoners who remarkably have come back to the island to share their stories and to heal.  Eight former prisoners currently live on the island, along with three of their former guards.  Our first guide had just returned to the island after several years away, and was full of emotion.  At one point he just started singing the national anthem of South Africa, which was quite moving knowing how much it meant to him and also when other people on the bus joined in.  At the end of his portion of the tour, he turned to the subject of truth and reconciliation - how could former political prisoners forgive their torturers and oppressors?  How did South Africans come together to forgive and reconcile gross wrongs after apartheid ended rather than turning to blame, revenge, or civil war?  He said this: ”It wasn’t about me.  It was for the good of the country’s future.  It was for the people, and it was for humanity.”  And that, I think, is pretty incredible. 

 -Julie

36 Hours in Doha

Beyond a layover at the airport in Doha, Qatar, the Middle East wasn’t a region we planned to officially visit on this trip. That changed a bit though when we arrived at the Bangkok airport last Thursday to find that our flight from Doha to Cape Town had been canceled and rescheduled for a day later. After flying to Doha and waiting out the requisite bureaucratic confusion (go to that counter, talk to this person, nope that person, and then head back to the original counter until someone finally figures out what has happened), we were finally shuttled off to our complimentary accommodations at the Moevenpick Tower and Suites, a shiny new chrome and blue Swiss hotel tower in the midst of central Doha. The hotel itself was a bit ridiculous.  As an example, there was a phone next to the bed, another at the desk, and even one next to the toilet, and there were blue mood lights under all the furniture, but it did have the softest, most comfortable beds of the trip, so I was satisfied with that alone.

With one full day to wander Doha, Anne and I decided to leave the luxury beds and wander out of our tower. Upon leaving the gold and leopard-print themed lobby, we realized that central Doha is really odd. Odd first of all because the entire area was under construction. We later found out that there are over 100 high-rise buildings currently being built there and only a few that were finished. Odd also because in between all of these skyscrapers was nothing. No smaller buildings, no street-side stands, no shops on the first floor of the high-rises, and no people on the streets. Just newly built roads, a few sidewalks and landscaped gardens, and towering skeletons of buildings. Depending on your school of thought, it was an urban planner’s dream or nightmare. I would opt for the latter opinion, while the Urban Planning and Development Authority of Doha (who have their own nice skyscraper going up) might disagree.

I don’t know the history of this section of Doha, but as it seemed like prime land right by the water, I would venture to guess that in a city this old something else used occupy this wide swath of land. I also don’t know a lot about the demographics of the population, but it seemed that the buildings were all being constructed with migrant labor from various parts of Asia and Africa, and it is likely that these workers are afforded few rights much as those in the UAE. I also had no good way to answer these questions as any printed information about Doha we received came from the government, so if anyone does please do leave your comments.

But to return to our wanderings: Anne and I eventually ran into a European couple strolling down the street and asked them for recommendations on where to go. They suggested a nearby park and were also surprised to find that we hadn’t yet made it to the city center. “What’s the city center?” we asked. They pointed to a giant complex not too far away, and told us that it was inside there – it was a mall. “It’s quite nice. Even has a skating rink and a bowling ally,” they said as we parted ways.

Well this was even more shocking than the landscape, so Anne and I turned around and headed towards the mall. From the outside, it reminded me much of a mall in the US, except that there were lots and lots of people milling about outside, quite a contrast to the empty streets around. Once inside, our senses were assaulted. Sure enough, there on the mall map was printed: City Center – Doha. We walked past an artificial pond and waterfall, where people were posing for pictures on the pond’s bridge, and headed up some stairs to the center of the city center, where we found the promised ice rink crowded with kids.

In reality, the mall was probably not much different or more garish than any other I’d been in before in terms of it’s construction. What made it fascinating though were the stores and the people. Imagine the site of a shop selling anitque Qatari furniture next to another selling Levis. Or a shop selling al-daraa and al-battoulah – the traditional long black dress and face covering that many Qatari women wear, next to a store selling American basketball jerseys. And then complete that picture by imagining the halls of this mall crowded with city residents, many of whom wear traditional Qatari and Saudi clothing. Perhaps this is what worries Islamic extremists? Myself, I was a bit overwhelmed as Doha had utterly defied any preconceived notions I might have had.  After coming upon a display of life-sized dinosaur animatronics, crowded with parents photographing their kids, we decided that we were just about ready to move on . . .

-Julie

Same Same but Different

I thought for a long time what to write about Thailand, and the theme that kept coming into my mind is the phrase “same same but different,” a rather ubiquitous Thinglish phrase. Anne, Lou, and I debated it, but we couldn’t quite decide what the phrase is supposed to mean. For me though, it expresses the baffling mix of traditional Thai culture, modernity, and western influence that we tended to find everywhere we went. Such as the freshly paved highway four-lane outside of Chiang Mai, filled with a mix of new cars and rickety tuk-tuks, street-side stores selling mini Buddhist shrines people can erect outside their their homes, and “king bling” signs, flags and billboards all around. It was like being on a highway at home, except for the not-so-subtle differences such as those I mentioned . . .

(Note/Tangent: Thai’s absolutely love King Bhumipol, who has been king since 1946. He has no official power, but since he is so revered when he does choose to get involved in politics or other affairs, his opinion is generally followed. The official king color is yellow and on Monday’s (the day the king was born) many, many people choose to wear yellow shirts or entire yellow outfits in his honor. In fact, we learned that there is a king color for every day of the week, with pink, the color he wore when he last left the hospital on a Tuesday, being the next most popular. There are pictures of the king everywhere in Thailand, even giant ones on the sides of skyscrapers. They even have “long live the king” bracelets that look just like Lance Armstrong’s “livestrong” bracelets).

Or take the Black Canyon Coffee shop we frequented on hot days (it had air conditioning), a Thai chain whose menus had descriptions like: “Mocha Glacier Frappe: refreshing frozen and smooth blended Mocha coffee topped with creamy coffee ice cream will remind you of the cold glacier in the ocean! Authentic!”" Here I do tend to wonder if the description in Thai comes out a bit better, but the point being that this coffee shop seemed like one I’d find in the US in so many ways, particularly in terms of its decor, yet things like the menu’s enjoyable descriptions or the overly kind, attentive, and numerous staff members reminded me that I was still in Thailand.

There are so many more examples to throw in, such as the site of a monk in traditional dress filming and photographing his fellow monks visiting a temple, religious figurines at a historic temple dressed in leopard print garb, a Ronald McDonald statue doing the traditional “wai” Thai greeting, that the playboy bunny seems to be popular in ways that seemed absurd to us, or the bewildering Bangkok landscape of ancient Buddhist temples mingling with towering condominiums. Entire books, university courses, and conferences have been held to try to determine just what globablization and modernization mean for countries like Thailand, and my observations are perhaps more amusing than deeply meaningful, so I certainly won’t try to decide in this blog entry what I think it all means. From the standpoint of a visitor, the quickly changing landscape of Thailand was fascinating to observe, and comforting to find that even amidst what may seem the same as the US, there are many differences, small and large, that show that Thailand’s journey towards whatever modernization might be is quite unique.

And one final moment of happiness we found in Thailand to share:

While taking the night train back from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, we stopped in a small village. A new group of passengers boarded the train, including a mother with three young boys who were sitting across from Luthien and I. The mother held one of her sons in her arms, who was perhaps three or four years old. She first had him shake hands with me and then had him greet me with the phrase he shyly repeated after she said it: “I love you.” The little boy repeated this several times for me and then proceeded to greet Luthien in the same way, “I love you.” While all of this was happening, it seemed that the entire extended family of the mother and her sons was standing outside our train window to see them off. There was a group of at least ten Thai people crowded around waving and smiling and watching. As the mother turned her attention to her relatives out the window, the oldest boy, of about seven or eight, paced around our seats muttering absentmindedly under his breath the phrase, “I love you farang, I love you farang.” (farang = foreigner in Thai). The whole moment was enough to keep us smiling all the way until Bangkok.

-Julie