Marguerite Is My Name in French!

Alright, so I admit it, I’ve been a little scared to jump on this blog bandwagon, so I apologize to all of you would-be loyal fans of my writing for putting off on putting up my very own post. But, here I am world. Love me. Plus I figure it must be time to hear from someone other than Allie. Plus right now I am alone in Cocoa Wah-wee-woo-wah-wahoodle (our totes fave café with free internet and terrible coffee) uploading pictures from Stellenbosch (go look on facebook, they are finally there!) so I need to feel somewhat connected to other people. Through blogging. And the impersonal internet community. That facebook play really got me thinking. Anyway! I will start with last night. We had our 3^rd (4^th? who knows) class with Sibs, the Trinity professor, which we lovingly call Oprah’s Book Club. Last night was a real step down from the week previous, which included 3 2-litre jugs of margaritas and a lot of laughter. Instead, we sat in our living room at Devonshire and actually discussed readings we had done for the week. I’m pretty sure we were being punished for getting so drunk every other class (and maybe because Emily spilled wine on her…) Anyway, we had all read books on theories or historical studies on apartheid and the rise of Afrikaner ethnocentrism, and it was interesting to compare racism and policy in South Africa with that in America prior to the Civil Rights movement. It was also interesting and wonderful to eat the pasta puttanesca that Mama Claire had made for us, it quickly became her specialty the first time she made it and we beg her for it all the time. Sous chef just might be her dream job of the week. (Sibs told her hotel management was just not worthy, and crushed her dream job of 3 days last week.) After class was over we went down to our favorite spot in Rondebosch, the video store, and picked up Cold Mountain which we were craving pretty hardcore. It was tragic and beautiful and I love love love it…and so did all the roomies last night, I think we must be feeling pretty romantically deprived. Oh except for the lurky men sitting outside the video store who called us beautiful women…or something that kind of meant that. I just love nighttime on Main Road! But we carry our Viper Spray everywhere and I’ve been practicing tactics like the chi-slice (which actually sounds like a delicious snack…) so we’re pretty confident about defending ourselves from now on. Plus, Claire and Whitney have become sort of freakishly dedicated to Bikram yoga. Allie and I have until Saturday to use the rest of the 5 classes that we paid for…somehow we didn’t get so caught up in the joy of group sweating. But we are resolved to hike Table Mountain again, maybe lots of times! I wish I had pictures, it was such a beautiful view, but we had been told muggers like to hide out on the mountain so unfortunately didn’t take a camera along. And now, I am about to run off to African dance, my exercise of choice here. Allie and I freaking love it. We even ran into “Teach” (he prefers it to his name, Maxwell Xholani Rani) last Thursday night on Long Street – and he told us about how he usually ducks into hiding when he sees students outside of class. So I’m taking that as a good sign for us doing well in his class. Allie and I also like to see how the moves we learn in class can be applied to contemporary music, which we often show off in public when we go out.

Alright, so I guess this was not the best debut blog it could have been, but Allie pretty much covered all of our activities so far. I just needed to take this step. Thank you for coming along with me. I promise to write again after our “plastics research” this Thursday night (my mean girls will understand)…we are returning to Tiger Tiger (rawr!), but this time, per Jill’s suggestion, we are first dressing ourselves up in costume, in Mr. Price’s finest “going out” dresses and heels. We will fit in much better than last time when I wore a sundress and my canvas flats. Goldfish, apparently the premiere band in South Africa (we had planned to see them on Sunday at the Kirstenbosch concert but they were sold out!) is playing at the club so we’ll see how it goes. 

The rest is still unwritten. (A special Hills shout-out to you, Katie, you are, I am pretty sure, our one avid reader.)

Pro Procrastination

There is nothing I'm better at than procrastinating. I have a huge paper due next Monday, and I told myself that I would start working on it this weekend. And as a result I have had a very fun weekend. After class on Friday, my rooms and I went to Long Street, did some shopping, got burned by a lady's cigarette, and finished with Power Yoga. 

Now, the shopping was fun, but the Power Yoga was death. Power Yoga is 60 minutes of jumping, sweating, downward dog, and ass slaps from our Scottish instructor. By the halfway mark the look of horror was plastered on my face. And by the end, I was laying down on my mat waiting for our instructor to say, "Namaste." 

On the van ride home, we ran into Lover's Walk. Which is becoming quite the routine for us. And then met up again at the "What the Fuck" party. I wasn't sure how the other international or South Africa students were going to respond to a theme, but I was pleasantly surprised. By that, of course, there was one guy in a banana hammock, the hostesses were all decked out in crazy layers and platform shoes, and there was plenty of fake hair worn by both male and female.

Personally, Devonshire Hills loved Claire's take on the theme, she looked glamorous per usual, save for the huge red lipstick smear across her right cheek. Unfortunately, most of the party goers did not understand subtlety, and Claire was asked about her face all night. Meg and I chose to believe you could wear whatever costume you wanted, so Meg was an ice dancer. I wore what I would probably have worn to any 404 dance party. 

The next morning Meg and I got up very early (10:00!) and hiked with the Abby squared and Jill, up Table Mountain! The mountain was teaming with people, the ones that freaked me out most were the mountain runners. These men were running down the rocky paths, as some kind of Xtreme! exercise. 

I imagine it was a combination of their daring, as well as their fitness, that freaked me out. 

But yeah, I loved the hike. Meg and I actually realized we like exercising. (But of course, I liked the hike more afterward than during.) We rejoiced at the top by hydrating and taking a few sweaty pictures, and then the five of us took the cable car down. So, I might even go again next Saturday, just earlier, to avoid the noon time sun. 

The cable car ride also reminded me how much I love roller coasters. I will find one in South Africa. It is now my mission. 

After we got home, and paid Abby back for being our sugar mama all day, Meg and I had our fill of Indian food. We've found great vegetable Korma just outside our back gate. I will be going back as frequently as possible. We will also be going to expose Jill to Indian food; a delicacy she hasn't even tried after one bad experience five years ago. 

Last night, Jill, Meg, and I went to see "Face-IT!" in Kalk Bay. It was a one woman play about facebook. Well, kinda. It was her thoughts on technology and different videos that she had made. To be honest, it reminded me a lot of the Moveable Joints. Especially the videos. And it was pretty great. I definitely laughed aloud when she did her "Tessie Techie: Techie to the Stars!" But the highlight by far, was the closer, her choreographed dance with the entire Prich company to Daft Punk's "Technologic."

So good. It only inspired future developments for Sparkle Motion. 

It's coming, it's coming.

Jill, Meg, and I finished up the night at La Cubana with two other international students who saw "Face-IT." Now, I could lie and tell you I drank another Gin 2 (slang for whore, as well as a gin and mango juice cocktail; another sidenote on that, there is no lemonade in Cape Town. I miss sipping on 403s). But all we wanted from this club was nachos. And might I add, here is the key to these nachos, these nachos are made with Dorritos. Something that will definitely be re-created in the states. 

And now for today. Now we had hoped to go to Kirstenbosch to see Goldfish. But just as I had feared it was sold out. And of course, being Sunday, everything is closed, so how could I possibly procrastinate? Well, by having a very long and delicious breakfast at Cafe Sofia. French Toast with bananas if you were wondering. And then I encouraged all my roommates to rearrange the furniture with me. Our living room looks divine. And while I should have been reading "The Ethnic Phenomenom," for Sibs, I've been blogging. And eating the sugar cookies Claire made to reward me for doing homework. 

So, really, procrastinating at it's finest. 

We're Just Friends

Well, to use a very over extended metaphor, if Cape Town and I had to put a label to our relationship, I'd say we were "just friends."
And to take it too far, I'd been eyeing Cape Town for a while. I heard it was really happening and exciting! and perfect. I'd even checked it out on Facebook a couple times. And every other abroad student to encounter Cape Town, was in love.
So, I wanted to be in love, too. And with the help of our matchmaker, Lisa Sapolis, our affair began. We've been together for about a month now, but Cape Town and I aren't really working out.
I'm not sure what I want, and sometimes what Cape Town wants, is only stopped with my VIPER: Self-Defense Spray. Maybe the first month is the hardest.
(To invoke another metaphor we all learned in our orientation program, I'm on the second apple.)
Of course this was only intensified by yesterday's living room conversation, "forget Cape Town, I'm going to Paris!"
So, I suppose it's comforting to know that other international students are feeling noncommittal with Cape Town, too.
Or just equally discouraging.
To spice it up this weekend, we're trying new things. Our date ideas are mostly from the 101 list of things to do in Cape Town-- highlights include: the Planetarium, Bikram Yoga, improv sports, and the Green Point Flea Market-- and with some assistance from the New York Times: 36 hours in Cape Town.
I'm pretty confident our relationship can be saved, it's just going to take a little work, and some time. Maybe I'll even fall in love.
(Or run off to Paris.)

Let the Kitteh Do the Talking

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

The Start of Something Wonderful

Now, we've been talking about blogging for a while. Mostly with Steph. So, the my roommates and I-- affectionately called "The Four Cousins"--have decided to jump on the band wagon. Our blog is aptly titled (thanks Steph!) because we do in fact live in 'the hills' and lead pretty parralel lives to the reality stars on the hit MTV series.
We finally started class this week. And with a few switches in our schedules, I think we're all very happy. My favorite course, by far, is African Dance. Because we all look foolish, especially the tiny ballerina in the front of the class who is trying very hard to "look good." Secondly, because the teacher, is a G.
But before we even started to think about school, we've been on a "vay-cay." And when I try to rehash the last three weeks that we've been in Cape Town, our most absurd adventures seem to involve wine.
The first was our encounter with the Four Cousins jug of wine. Which also included our first meeting with the downstairs neighbor: Big D. Essentially, we all got a little too loose. Laughing at Claire's very Cosmo-Girl! quiz, "Which one of the Four Cousins is for you!" And Big D felt the need to stamp out our fun. Because, wouldn't you know? Laughter carries. So does the soft shoe routine we like to do above her bedroom.
The second was our trip to Stellenbosch. We looked at it in our guidebook, "it's just like Napa!" And all decided to go. Meg made the reservation at the "Stumble Inn." A hostel with a great play on words. And everything seemed great, we cooed "how cute!" from Al's van windows. But, after ten minutes in Dormitory G, we were greeted by our other two roommates. Two male overland truck drivers. Not that this isn't to be expcted in a hostel. But needless to say, we were skeeved, and vowed to spend all or our time out in town.
The thing with small towns, however, you can walk them in twenty minutes. And the thing about this small town, is that everyone gave us the stink eye. Apparently what the guide books won't tell you: Stellenbosch is the last great haven for Afrikaners. To further illustrate what this means: One night after meeting two other Americans, studying at the University of Stellenbosch, and drinking with them at the Bohemia, we walked back to our room. However, on the way, some Afrikaners felt the need to chase us, and yell out "Foreigners! Xhosa!"
Meg and Whitney were none the wiser, singing "Hold me closer young Tony Danza!" But Claire said it best, Stellenbosch is "Mississippi Burning!"
The second day proved difficult, only because our favorite travel partner, Claire, desperately wanted to leave. After not sleeping, curled up to Meg all night, refusing to use an unwahsed blanket, and in desperate need of a shower, I didn't blame Claire at all for wanting to leave. So it was hard trying to come up with good reasons for her to stay. But she did! And she even went on the wine tour!
So yes, our last day in Stellebosch was spent on a wine tour of four different wineries. Great cheese, and sloppy adventures had by all. The van ride back with Al was very quiet, as every one passed out for the forty minute ride home. Once we got back, we only had time to drop our bags and head to Ida's dinner. One roommates sloppy adventure didn't stop once we got to Ida's dinner, where she promptly fountained beer all over a young gentleman's lap. She can't help it if her boyfriend likes flowers, and that telling her so makes her laugh with a mouth-full of Castle.
Now, the last adventure, and the most recent. Two nights ago, Claire was kind enough to buy five bottles of wine for the apartment. But for some reason, we drank three bottles in one sitting. And the sloppy adventures that followed are mostly on video. But the ones worth recounting involved our NENs. (Naughty Engish Neighbors). We ding dong ditched said NENs, got caught, and my fearless roommates went next door, only to explain that we were initiating a fake sorority. While the latter happened, I was busy making a $42 drunk dial on my cellular phone.
Needless to say, the hike up to school the next day was hectic.
Well, I'm happy to have informed you all now of our drinking. But that's not really all we do. It's just what leads to the more embarrassing adventures that are worth recounting.
I suppose, though, that my recent behavior has invoked "something." That's vague, but recently I was stopped by the Y, on my way up the hill to school, and asked to join my Christian brothers and sisters. As well as yesterday when I was on campus reading, one actively Christian girl wanted me to join her bible study. Is some one trying to tell me something?
But really, Cape Town is wonderful. It's beautiful and despite people's best attempts to scare us off, we're on the first apple. At least today anyway.