Into nature I go

The natural beauty of this place ceases to amaze me. It is hard to think of something to compare it to in the states. There are beautiful state parks, no doubt. There are beautiful views of the ocean and lakes and rivers. But this place is just constantly gorgeous. There are mountains and then vineyards and then more mountains and then the ocean. It's all lush and green and seems to go on forever. It is not hard to believe that people visit here and never leave. It looks like paradise.

I was invited to go hiking by D, one of the Couchsurfers who hosted me the last time I was here. Today is her birthday, so the hike yesterday was part of the festivities. We went to Jonkershoek in Stellenbosch, which is about an hour's drive from Cape Town. The drive there, not to sound like a broken record, was beautiful. I find myself smiling whenever I look out of the window of whatever vehicle I'm in because of how awesome the view is. Yesterday was no exception. I doubt the novelty of this place will ever wear off.

I rode in a car with three people I had not met previously, which meant I had to answer the obligatory "where are you from? what are you doing here? are you enjoying the world cup?" questions. I'm looking forward to being at the point with these new acquaintances when it's just conversation and not a continuous introduction. Though, I think I am getting pretty good at explaining the work I'm doing and discussing the issues related to non-nationals in South Africa. One of the people in the car, D's friend M, was super chatty and engaged in our conversation, which made the ride a bit less awkward. At the end of the day he mentioned that if he arranged for a group trip to the vineyards for wine tasting that he would make sure D invited me. It was a small bit of validation for my ability to interact with and make new friends. This trip has made me acutely aware of and resurrected my insecurities about my social skills. I haven't made new friends in what feels like years. Most of the new acquaintances I have are through current friends. I've gotten out of the practice of being the new kid, the alone kid. This adventure in South Africa, if it does nothing else, is reviving those skills of mine which have been dormant. While it's hard feeling alone when surrounded by people, this is a good thing for me.

While it's a positive thing that I'm forced to reach out and try to connect with new people here, I've also realized that I'm comfortable being alone. During the hike I went back and forth between talking to someone and walking by myself. I enjoy the by-myself opportunities, especially in a place as awe inspiring at Jonkershoek, because it gives me time to think and reflect in the seclusion and quiet of my own brain. Yesterday I thought quite a bit about the issues I have with Afrikaans culture, something about which I've spoken to some of my friends at home. I know this is wrong and I shouldn't think this way, but I have a serious problem and prejudice against Afrikaans culture, and by extension Afrikaaners. This is something I should probably keep as a secret, but the only way to work through it is to think and talk about it. (Comments welcome.)

I first realized that I have this problem last year when I Couchsurfed here for two weeks. One of the people with whom I arranged to stay had an Afrikaans sounding name and his CS profile said he spoke Afrikaans; I put two and two together and assumed he was Afrikaans. Prior to meeting him I tried to figure out my response plan should he say something racist, which I only assumed would happen because I assumed he was Afrikaans. I couldn't decide if it was better to challenge his racism and risk losing a place to stay or keep quiet and let my soul die a little. Luckily, and what shouldn't be surprisingly, I never had to deal with this hypothetical. My host, who is Afrikaans, and his Afrikaans roommate were delightful. They were my first live interaction with Afrikaans culture and they stood in contrast to all that I had expected. In my defense, and, I guess, in the defense of many who are prejudiced against people whom they've never met, I have read extensively about South African history and there are few to no positive references to Afrikaaners. Prior to my last trip to South Africa, I had no personal experiences to challenge these book-based assumptions. And when you read the books I've read, it's really hard to not blame all the badness of apartheid and the current issues faced in South Africa on Afrikaaners. My book knowledge tells me that Afrikaaners are horrible people. My human interactions tell me that Afrikaaners are people, like anyone else. I have no doubt that I might meet a racist Afrikaaner, but I haven't yet and this should, logically, cause my previous assumptions to come crashing down. Not so.

While hiking yesterday, I noticed the many cyclists out, both on the road to Jonkershoek and within the park. I assumed most, if not all, of them were Afrikaans. It's not a big stretch considering a) Stellenbosch has a large, if not majority, Afrikaaner population and b) Afrikaans culture places a strong emphasis on nature and physical activity. It's not surprising that so many people would take advantage of the beautiful surroundings on such a beautiful day. But then I started thinking that this land was, and is, not their's - Afrikaaners' - to enjoy. This land was someone else's and their ancestors took it. My gut feeling is that they have no right to be here. They have no right to enjoy this land.

But then these thoughts, as they always do, were extrapolated into being about my own position as an American - a descendant of immigrants who came to a colonized land. I think my issues with Afrikaans culture are tied, somewhat or somehow, to a sense of self loathing for my position within the American culture and structure. I think it's easier for me to project a sense of anger towards Afrikaans culture than really try to understand my role at home. It's another ongoing conversation in my brain.

So to some up: South Africa is gorgeous. I have a problem with Afrikaaners, which is really just a reflection of my issues with being an American.