What Mister WWOOFer Does on Her Days Off

As I was skimming over the last few blogs I've written, I noticed that I had missed a major part of my trip! My days off from WWOOFing! I hope you don't think that I was worked to death, and never caught a break, because this couldn't be farther from the truth. As a matter of fact, some of the major highlights of my trip took place on the weekends, between painting, building, and baboon chasing.

On Farm 119, weekends are dedicated to getting as much sleep as you possibly can, and usually, only a half-day's work is done. My first weekend there, it was pouring rain, but Kevin and Mila were still game for a hike to the Drupkelders, which is about a half-hour away from the farm. Although it was more or less a torrential downpour, it wasn't actually that cold out, so I decided to join in.

Since the Drupkelders is in the Knysna Forest, it wasn't all that wet once we got under the shelter of the trees. The Knysna Forest has a mysterious, wild feeling that I've never experienced in Canada. The wilderness of it sucks you right in. The first little bit of the hike is flat, but after a while, you reach a downhill, which carries on for a few kilometres. At one point, there's a rope to hold onto as you traverse down the hill! It was quite slippery in the rain, and watching your footing is a must, unless you want to get muddy.

All of the sudden, the hill comes to an end, and you find yourself standing in a huge gorge, which surrounds a river, which is apparently a swimmer's nirvana in warmer weather. There are vines hanging down the sides of the gorge, and the sound of the rushing river combined with the rain definitely gave me the "African Wilderness" idea.
The entire landscape of the Drupkelders was breathtaking, and taking it all in while being sheltered by the gorge was the perfect thing to do on a rainy Sunday. For the record, in warmer, drier weather, the Drupkelders gorge would have made for amazing bouldering!

The hike back up the hill was a little bit more challenging, as the stones were soaked, and I tended to slip every couple of steps. However, I'm still in awe of how beautiful the Drupkelders were...and they were only half an hour away from where I lived! How lucky is that?

I think that I'm still a little bit damp from that hike, and three weeks later, I have a pair of socks that still hasn't quite dried out. However, the scenery of the place was worth soaking through to the bone. Anyone in Rheenendal: take an afternoon and hike to the Drupkelders!

A quick word of caution: never leave a Malarone tablet in your pocket if there's a chance it might get wet, as it will dissolve into yellow mush which gets all over everything, and is a pain in the ass to wash off.

The main event, however, came the following Saturday. I had heard rumors about the Rastafari Earth Festival, and secretly had my fingers crossed that we would go. I lucked out again, as Kevin and Tanya asked me if I would be interested in attending the Knysna Rasta Fest. Uh, yes please!

Although the event didn't start until that evening, I went early with Kevin. He wanted to take some shots of the Knysna Heads before the sun went down, and I went along for the opportunity. For the record, do not miss the Knysna Heads! Watching the sea crash up and down over the rocks while the sun was just starting to set was probably one of the most stunning landscapes I've ever seen in my life. I helped Kevin with some of his shoot...by that I mean I held up a lamp for background lighting. The effect was quite magical.

Afterwards, we headed to the Festival. I expected it to take place right in town, so you can imagine my surprise when we drove into the Khayalethu Township, down narrow, twisting roads until we reached the House of Judah, complete with Bob Marley mural.

For the record, Knysna is home to South Africa's largest Rastafarian community; there about thirty families living peacefully in the Khayalethu Township. I had read about this before coming, but I never imagined that I would actually be entering Judah Square and partying with the community! Definitely one for the old bucket list!

Being in the township only added to the experience for me. I noticed that within the township, there was acutally a fair bit of diversity. My preconceived notion of the townships were a bunch of falling-down shacks, and hard-done-by people (which I'm embarrassed to admit now). As we drove through, however, I noticed that some of the houses were actually decently equipped, the people were beautiful, wearing colourful clothing, the children played a game of soccer, and I noticed teenagers laughing around a fire. Really, this isn't all that different than how people in the white suburbs spend their Saturday nights.

All of the Rastafarian people I met were friendly; I was one of very few white people there, but I felt no judgment. The people were peaceful and gentle, giving me fist bumps (a traditional greeting in their culture), welcoming me, and offering to sell me buds of ganja the size of my head. It was a nice change to be at a gathering like that where there was no belligerence, drunkenness or brawling. Everyone was dancing to the live (awesome) reggae music, there was food and tea, and everyone was smiling and enjoying each other's company.

The Rasta Earth Festival was definitely one of the top travel experiences of my life. It was an unexpected surprise, and a deep look into a very different culture that I'm so glad I got to be a part of!

By the way, the Rastas all called me "Sista Rebecca". Just in case you're interested.

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them all!
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com

A Day at the Robben Island Prison Museum

I will freely admit (a little embarrassingly) that before coming to South Africa, I did not know a single thing about the country's history. The name Nelson Mandela was pretty much the extent of my knowledge, I couldn't accurately summarize Apartheid if you paid me, and I fell asleep during Invictus. In short, I am the worst.

Over the past month that I've been here, I've heard bits and pieces about the Apartheid days from the locals, and I've driven past many townships. I even spent an evening in the Khayalethu township outside of Knysna partying with some Rastas! One of the first sights I saw on my way into Cape Town was Khayelitsha: thousands of tin houses as far as the eye could see, some barely standing. Khaya is South Africa's second largest township, with over a million inhabitants. It's a city in itself, and I couldn't quite get my head around the fact that so many people were living on top of each other from day to day.

Still, I have to admit my knowledge was minimal, something I wanted to change, as I figured my love for South Africa could only deepen with greater knowledge of its history and people.

I felt that visiting Robben Island, a former prison-turned museum and World Heritage Site where many political activists were incarcerated during Apartheid would really give me some insight. I woke up to a very foggy sky and rumors of rain. I immediately panicked, because the ferry to Robben Island is known for cancelling due to rough water or bad weather, and the day didn't look promising.

I lucked out; my ferry was scheduled to leave at 11:00, and when I arrived at the Waterfront, the ferry was there, and the people at the Nelson Mandela Gateway informed me that we were set to go!

A ticket to Robben Island includes a return ferry ride to the island - half an hour each way - a bus tour around the island with commentary, and a tour through the maximum security prison, guided by a former political prisoner. During the ferry ride over, we did pass over some swells, but after the shark boat, it felt like a bit of a joke.

Upon arrival at the island, I learned some background information about the prison. It had been in operation since the early days of the Dutch and British occupation of South Africa. In the beginning, both men and women with mental illnesses were sent to the island and detained there. It also served as a leper colony before becoming a maximum security prison for anyone opposing the Apartheid government. Most, if not all of the inmates were black, coloured, Indian or Asian. There were many escape attempts, but very, very few success stories. After feeling the freezing water around Cape Town, and meeting the sharks firsthand, I understood why escaping was near impossible.

The prison was in operation until the early 1990s. The last prisoners were taken off the island and sent elsewhere not long after Mandela made his famous speech in 1990.

The bus tour took us around to different sites on the island I did not know about, such as the lime quarry, which prisoners were forced to dig with hand tools such as picks or spades. Because of the bright sun reflecting off the rock, many prisoners suffered partial blindness after time. We visited a church built by the lepers, and the graveyard of Irish settlers who had left their country because of the potato famine, and taken up residence at Robben Island.

The tour guide on the bus was full to the brim of information about Robben Island's history, and made jokes about all the tourists' home countries. She asked the Belgians if they had brought any chocolate, the Americans which state was better: California or Florida, me - the solitary Canadian - when hockey season started, and requested that the Dutch tourists not colonize South Africa again. A fair enough request. It was nice to start the tour with laughter from all parties.

After the whirlwind bus tour, we entered the maximum security prison, and were met by our guide, who had been an inmate during the 1980s. He told stories of his own past. He was arrested, tortured, and thrown in prison. He spent six out of eight years at Robben Island working in the kitchen. He also showed us an example of a prisoner identification card, and read the ranks of the prison: black people were at the very bottom.

I feel that having a former prisoner give the tour was ingenious; I definitely got an insiders' look at the maximum security prison! Although I never got the guide's name, I admire his bravery to coming back to a place where he faced such hardship in order to tell his story to people like me who really can't even imagine such conditions.

The highlight for me, almost needless to say, was walking past Nelson Mandela's former cell. It was a tiny area, among many others, which had housed leaders of opposition parties. It contained a small mat that had been used as a bed, and a bucket - in lieu of a toilet. Another highlight was seeing the pile of stones in front of the limestone quarry. This was where former prisoners held a reunion, and piled the stones in order to symbolize their experience.

One complaint I have about the tour is that we weren't allowed to get off the bus very often, and the whole bus tour felt very rushed. If we spent too long trying to take pictures out the window, the tour guide would become irritable. I understand that there was a schedule, but I personally would have liked to have time to actually experience such an amazing place before being whisked off to the next point on the tour.

Despite the atrocities and indignities suffered at Robben Island, I still felt a sense of hope as I left. I simply look at the people I have met in South Africa, and see that they are making the most of life as it is today. Our guide, who had suffered Apartheid, had come back to Robben Island, willing to share his experience, in order to educate people from around the world. The courage and optimism of the South African people is stunning.

If you're looking for something to do in Cape Town that does not involve sharks or surfing, I strongly recommend Robben Island. It's informative, unbelievable, and essential to understanding the country's stormy past. You may even spot a penguin or two.

"The journey's never long when freedom's the destination."

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them all!
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com

Sand and Surf, All in One Glorious South African Day

As I type this, my arms are seizing up from excessive paddling in massive swells, and my knees are all raw from skidding down sand dunes all morning. Nevertheless, I am above and beyond happy! Since I promised my poor mom that I would not partake in any more shark-related activities, I moved on to the second phase of must-do activities Cape Town has to offer: a sandboarding and surfing combo!

Once again, Downhill Adventures completely outdid themselves, providing incredible locations, well-kept-up gear, and an amazing guide, who made the experience fun and definitely memorable. My hat's off to Jerry at Downhill! Hilarious, encouraging, patient and knows the crap out of surfing...if you ever find yourself doing this tour in Cape Town, ask for him!

At 10:00am, I arrived at the Downhill Adventures office, and learned that I was in fact, the only person going on the tour that day! Apparently in winter, not as many people sign up because they don't want to brave the cold water. I can tell you firsthand that when you're trying to maneuver through three or four foot swells in a wetsuit, you're anything but cold.

The first half of the day was sandboarding. I learned that Downhill Adventures is the only company in Cape Town that uses actual snowboards, boots and bindings as opposed to a piece of wood with foot-loops. The technique of sandboarding is similar to snowboarding. If you want more speed, stand flat on your board instead of carving with your edges. That's pretty much the only difference. However, the actual feel of sandboarding is way, way different. The sand doesn't pack down as well as snow, and if you hit a bump that you aren't anticipating, you will take a dive! The sand gets absolutely everywhere, and the guides actually rent you boots about a half-size too big to compensate for the sand!

I also found that after each run, you need to re-wax your board, or the sand will clump on the bottom, and you won't go anywhere. I found this out the hard way, as I was flying down a particularly steep dune, stopped out of nowhere, and toppled over sideways. I sort of wish I could have seen myself.

After each run, you have to walk all the way back to the top of the dune! I can't imagine doing it in the summer, as Jerry was telling stories about walking up in fifty degree heat! Although the hike to the top is rather painful, sandboarding is a total blast! Altantis, where the dunes are located, is more or less a mini-desert about forty-five minutes out of Cape Town. There is a perfect view of Table Mountain in the distance, and since today was clear, without a cloud in the sky, it felt like someone had placed a backdrop there!

After a few hours of sandboarding, we had a break for lunch, and then headed to Big Bay. Although it isn't as much of a surfer's paradise as Muizenberg, Jerry explained that it was a safer beach, the swells were more predictable, and it was shark free! This sounded good to me, as I prefer sharks from the safety of a cage.

The swells were a little bit bigger than anticipated, but I actually found this a little bit easier to gain the momentum to stand up. Yes, friends, I did stand up. More often than not. I'm surprised too.

Dragging a surfboard over massive swells, having to lift the front and jump the wave every few seconds, and then turn the board around is quite rough on the arms. Especially if you lack any sort of upper-body strength, like me! At the end of the day, I felt a bit like a wet noodle, but a happy one. Apparently South Africa boasts some of the best surfing in the world, and I'm very proud to say that I've experienced it!

The surf/sandboard combo is quite decently priced, and you bake in the sun all morning sliding down sand dunes, and then cool off in the afternoon. It's the perfect day trip, and can almost guarantee a good night's sleep. I strongly recommend it!

For the record, I'm now considering just staying in Cape Town forever and becoming a surf bum. Fair warning.

Once again, a massive thanks to Downhill Adventures for an unforgettable day!

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them all!
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com

Sorry Mom...I Went Shark Diving

Before I start this blog, I would like to wish an embarrassingly late happy birthday to my incredible Grama, who I truly consider the inspiration for this trip. Ever since I saw her pictures of South Africa almost fifteen years ago, I've known that one day, I would end up here. I'm having the time of my life, and if it weren't for you, I don't know if I'd have made it. I love you!

This morning, I found myself wide awake and raring to go at the very early hour of 5:00am. This was because after a year of waiting, today was the day I was finally going to climb into a steel cage and be immersed into shark-infested waters. Today was the long-awaited shark cage dive!

Since a family friend recommended the cage dive as a must in Cape Town over a year ago, I haven't had any doubt in my mind about it. I know for a fact that a lot of people at home think that I'm a crazy person for even thinking about it, but I can now tell you first hand: when in Cape Town, DO NOT MISS IT!

It is by no means cheap to do a shark dive. I paid about R1400 (roughly $230), but keep in mind that this included transport from my hostel to Gansbaai (two hours away from Cape Town), breakfast before the dive, lunch after the dive, snacks on the boat, and most importantly, the once-in-a-lifetime experience of looking Great White sharks in the eye!

The drive to Gansbaai is stunning. The mountains combined with green orchards and farmland as far as the eye can see are quite effective at calming a person down, even though the occasional glimpses you get of the ocean and its huge swells definitely bring the adrenaline up again!

Before the dive, I had heard horror stories about violent sea-sickness, and when I arrived, there was a notice saying that the water was 12 degrees! At this point, sharks were the least of my worries.

After popping some Gravol, and eating a quick breakfast - which I tried to balance between nutrition and not eating so much I would vomit on the boat - our guide Anthony gave us a briefing about what to do in case of the boat sinking (God forbid), and then told us some interesting facts about the sharks. For example, they lure the sharks with a bait that is basically the blood and guts of fish, so they are attracted to the scent, but there's no food for them, so they aren't trained to chase boats in the future. We were also told that while the bait was in the vicinity, the sharks could not care less about us in the cage. Although they do have good eyesight, so they would be able to see us!

Finally, we walked down to the boat. It was so windy that I was afraid of being blown right off the pier. I had stupidly checked the weather report in Cape Town instead of Gansbaai, and as a result, worn shorts. I don't know if I've ever been so cold in my life.

The boat ride started out over huge swells (I would guess they were 6 - 8 feet). It felt like being on a very wet, trecherous roller coaster. My stomach was doing a weird sort of Irish jig. After about three minutes of this, the water either smoothed out, or my Gravol kicked in like a champion, because I was able to enjoy the ride out, and did not get seasick.

For almost an hour, we sat in the bay by Dyer Island with the crew doing their darndest to lure the sharks. They had a sort of foam decoy (which would probably look like a seal to the average Great White), as well as the fish blood and guts on a rope. I also noticed a man at the back mixing more blood and guts together with a shovel, and then splashing it behind the boat. Let me just say that shark bait is the absolute worst.

At this point, I was starting to panic a little bit. What if no sharks showed up? I had waited for so long, and I was dying to see a great white! I know it would be circumstances beyond anyone's control, but I knew I would be disappointed. And then...

...SHARK! A baby Great White swam out of nowhere and all but launched itself at the foam decoy! The people on the boat erupted, and all but shoved each other off the sides to get a picture. Since I had been wedged right by the side since the beginning, I had the prime spot. Gradually, more and more sharks started appearing. It wasn't a Jaws-esque circle or anything, but every few minutes, one would lazily snap at the bait, and then go back to whatever it was doing first. Now, I know this is needless to say, but sharks are BIG! A few of them that passed by were easily four metres long! Interestingly, the smaller sharks were more keen on jumping for the bait, whereas the giants just passed on by.

Upon the arrival of the sharks, the crew started putting people in the cage. It was freezing cold, but hell could freeze over before I decided against getting into that cage! Myself and seven other people put wetsuits on, and were instructed to climb over the side of the boat into the cage. At first, I didn't realize that there was a bar in the cage to put one's feet, and I had a terrifying moment where my right foot floated through the bars.

Once I was in the cage, I actually felt pretty safe. There were bars to hang onto, and we weren't completely submerged; whenever a shark would swim by, we would hold our breath and duck to the bottom of the cage. It was definitely a rush when one of the crew members would yell, "DOWN! RIGHT!" And we would all duck under the water, look to the right, and watch one of the sharks drift - literally - in front of our faces.


Remember when I said the big ones didn't jump so much? There were a few exceptions. One more than the others. About a minute after I got into the cage, one of the biggest sharks I saw the entire time jumped at the bait, landing on the cage for a split second, which shook it with the force of a truck. For a moment, I was completely stunned. When the seven other divers in the cage with me came up, we were all whooping! A shark had jumped on us! Top that!

I was lucky enough to take two turns in the cage. The second time, I was on the far right side, and at one point found myself eye-to-eye with a Great White! I still have the shivers. I had been so worried about not seeing any of them, and within the course of about four or five hours, I had seen tons of them, both from the deck and in the cage. It was a lucky day for shark-viewing.

I found this trip exhilarating, educational, and all-round amazing. It was definitely one for my bucket list, and probably one of the best travel experiences of my life! Massive props to Downhill Adventures, Anthony and the crew, and I suppose the sharks themselves (even though I'm still feeling a bit of ocean motion as I type this). The shark cage dive was truly an incredible experience beyond words.

I would also like to say a massive, massive thanks to my amazing boyfriend Myles for the camera! Not only did it work perfectly under water, but I now have a video of a 4-metre shark going right by the cage!

Oh, and for the record, I'm typing this blog with all of my fingers, and I walked to the computer on both legs. Just so you know.

Questions? Comments? Criticisms?
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com

About Time for a New Post, Eh?

For the past week, the power has been very low at Farm 119, and therefore, Internet use has been very minimal. But don't worry, my faithful followers! I'm back!

Since Farm 119 relies on solar power in order to power the farm, using water, turning on lights and other such activities has to be done with discretion. Actually, it's pretty amazing how they've managed to rely almost solely on solar power and rainwater for basic needs. Once you get your head around adamantly turning off lights and taps, it's really not so bad. As long as you have a trusty headlamp and a good book, once the work is done, evenings on the farm without power are pretty awesome. I can't remember being so relaxed after work...ever.

On the farm front, I've mainly been working on building a path to the shed I helped build and paint. In Bibby's Hoek, when it rains, it pours...literally. It rained nonstop Sunday and Monday, and as we speak, I've still been sliding around in the mud while working. My boots are nothing short of caked in mud every day after work. The solution: put down small stones in front of the shed to keep the mud away. As far as laying the stones down, I have also lined up tyres around Tanya's greenhouse, filled them with soil, put a top-layer of stones, and planted an aloe plant in the middle (for aesthetic value). The effect is actually quite attractive. And it keeps the cows and chickens out. Bonus.

I've been working on filling tyres and making the path since Tuesday. My limbs are beyond sore, but I feel a huge sense of accomplishment...there are no machines to help me out, so when I look at all the work I've done, I'm reminded that I've done it all by hand. I've never done work like this before, and I have to admit, I'm quite proud of what I've done in the two weeks I've been here...sore muscles notwithstanding.

Today I had to dig out fenceposts so that I could transport them to the path I'm building, dig a shallow trench, and place them around the outside. A pickaxe, shovel, three rusty nails and a very sore left hand later, I was able to knock it out of the ground, drag it across the farm, and put it in place outside the shed. I would be lying to you if I said I hadn't thought about giving up. But when that sucker finally came out of the ground, I was fist pumping for joy! Sometimes you really don't know your own strength. It's just a matter of time before I'm sending out pictures of myself flexing in the mirror. WWOOFing is one of the most fulfilling things I've ever done.

Tomorrow is finally a weekend...I can sleep in all the way until 9:00am, and I've heard talk of possibly going on an outing to the Knysna Rastafari Festival. My fingers are way, way crossed.

As for now, I'm going to go see about a shower. I can't see my legs for all the mud covering them. It's hard to believe that I only have a week left on the farm! As excited as I am to see more of South Africa, it's going to be very hard to leave. This feels like home.

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them all!
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com

Farming in South Africa: Part Two

As we speak, I am completely and totally bagged! My day started at 7:00 this morning (as the last five days on the farm have), I'm starting to feel slightly geriatric, what with all of the rise-with-the-sun/go-to-bed-at-8:00 I've been doing lately. Seriously. I've been asleep by 8:00 at night. I'm adapting to the farm life way more quickly than I thought I would.

My host family has been nothing but accommodating. Tanya and Kevin are always friendly, and never fail to remind me to feel at home! Yes, this means full-on access to the fridge. Mila thinks that I have been brought in as her personal attendant (and I've considered hiding in dark corners in order to have a minute of peace). Still, she's a spunky little thing, and will probably rule the world one day. I wouldn't have it any other way. Luke always has a massive smile on his face; he loves Lego, and ever more, his parents' iPad. He can't remember my name, so he's resorted to calling me "Hey, let's go play Lego!" "Woman!" or "Mister WWOOFer!" Yup. Mister.

Today, I finished painting the shed, and then moved on to the daunting task of weeding the flower garden. I'm pretty sure the weeding will never end, as every time I turn around, there seem to be more and more growing out of the nooks and crannies I could swear I checked.

Although it's definitely hard physical labour, I'm really enjoying being outside. Today was in the mid-twenties, and I was able to work in a tank top. Take that, middle of winter! I'm pretty sure "winter" in Rheenendal is still warmer than "summer" in Calgary. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Halfway through m y long, drawn out weeding process, I heard the dogs start barking their heads off. I looked up just in tim e to see about five baboons dash through the field and onto the roof of the neighbours' shed! Baboons, for the record, are freakin' huge! I was tempted to move in closer to get a better look, but was reminded of a warning in my guidebook about their razor-sharp teeth and tendency to attack people if they saw fit. Needless to say, I had second thoughts. Maybe next time. In the mean time, it was quite entertaining to see the two least-ferocious looking dogs in South Africa doing their best to intimidate the baboons into staying on the roof. Only in South Africa.

I'm really enjoying the farm work. Although it's definitely full of physical jobs, I love being outside, and I feel like the work I'm doing is actually beneficial i n some way, shape or form. It's nice to have a job where I don't feel like dead wood. I work all morning, get an hour break for the most delicious lunches ever, and then work a few more hours in the afternoon. Between then and dinner, I actually get some time to myself. I can usually be found exploring with my camera, writing, or most likely, wrestling w ith the dogs.

Right now, I'm counting down the minutes until dinner is ready. After that, I'll probably be heading back to my room, and shortly to sleep. I really can't complain.

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them all!
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com

And So It Begins...

I've only been in South Africa for three days (not counting the eight-hour, hair-pulling layover in Jo'burg), but it feels like it's been forever. This isn't a bad thing. After flying an agonizing eight hours to Amsterdam, another twelve hours to Johannesburg, and then waiting for eight hours in the OR Tambo Airport, I was starting to feel like I would never get here.

Upon arriving in Jo'burg, there is loud, traditional African music playing, which got me all pumped up (or delerious after the flight...take your pick). It felt like a big, exciting "WELCOME TO AFRICA!" Unfortunately, this was short lived, as I realized very quickly that I was stuck in the airport, the lights were being dimmed, the shops were closed, and there are only hard, metal benches, so try as I might, I could not get to sleep.

Finally -FINALLY - 5:00am came, and I was able to board my flight to Cape Town. Let me just add that this two hour flight felt like a joke next to the last couple of flights I've been on. The sun was a gigantic, bright red ball in the sky, and it was coming up just as we were taking off. I think this was the moment when it hit me: I was in Africa!!

The sky was clear with barely a cloud in sight as we landed in Cape Town, and right out my window, I could see Table Mountain, and right next to it, the ocean. Before leaving, I had googled dozens - nay, hundreds - of pictures of this exact sight, but I can't even describe what it was like to see it appearing before my eyes.

When I got off the plane, I had a minor panic: the Backpacker Bus, a super handy service, where travellers are picked up at the airport and dropped safely at their hostel, did not appear to have arrived. I wandered around, looking at all the people holding signs, and could not find my name. For what was probably realistically two minutes, I paced back and forth, wracking my brain for who I could call and coming up with nothing, when I turned around, almost knocking over a man with my backpack. And yes, his sign said - in big bold letters nonetheless - my name. I guess I should learn to read properly before taking off on another big trip.

After arriving at Penthouse on Long, a hostel on Long Street, Cape Town's main backpacker district, I decide to take a shower, as I had been doing nothing but plane-hopping for the last three days. I unpacked, only to find that I had managed to buy two shampoos and no conditioner. Well, I now had a mission! I asked the front desk staff where the best place to find said hair product was. Let me just say that not only is Penthouse on Long a funky place to stay in a very populated (and therefore safe) area of Cape Town, but the front staff are friendly, and know everything. More on them later.

After buying my conditioner, and scouting out a place to eat dinner (The Long Street Cafe - best margherita pizza EVER), I retreated to the hostel, and asked the man at the front desk what the best way to get to the bus station was. After all, I was leaving at 6:00am to head to Knysna, the town closest to Farm 119, where I'm WWOOFing for three weeks. Although the bus station wasn't far, I had my doubts about walking that early in the morning. The man at the desk told me that taking a taxi would be the fastest way, and he promised that he would call the cab for me, and have the driver come up to get me so I would know which cab to get into. He then told me all of the things to do in Cape Town, and was very excited to hear that I was returning in a few weeks. I will definitely be back!

I then went to bed. At 6:30pm. I hate jet lag.

The next morning, bright and early, I showed up at the front desk, and the man called my cab (I should really get names, eh?). Within five minutes, my ride was there, and I was taken to the bus station. The driver made sure that I got inside alright, and apart from the pesky porter who really, really wanted to carry my bag (and subsequently, a tip), I had made it. The bus was already there, so all I had to do was load my bag, and take a seat.

I would definitely recommend the Intercape bus service for anyone travelling in South Africa. They were safe and efficient. Although after the buses in Southeast Asia, that could be said about pretty much any bus line. The prayer at the beginning of the trip, and the Christian programming for the entire eight-hour duration of my bus trip was a little surprising for this Jewish travel writer, but like I said before, as long as I'm safe, I can put up with a little Gospel. I always have my iPod...

I'm now sitting comfortably in the office of GORGEOUS Farm 119, in Bibby's Hoek, in the Rheenendal district, just outside of Knysna. The air is clear, and there are 360 degrees of million dollar views. Kevin and Tanya, as well as Mila and Luke, their children, have made me feel more than welcome right off the bat. So far I have been fed home-grown vegetarian food right out of my wildest dreams, met their two dogs (Mushroom and Fettucine), who guard my room whenever I go in, and have helped build a shed, and today, I painted it. I just love being able to work outside all day!

There was a bit of a communication breakdown when I first arrived, and my host family and I missed each other at the bus station. However, the man at the bus station walked me to a hostel in Knysna (just around the corner from the station), and made sure I got in safe. The staff at the hostel was friendly, and helped me get in contact with my host family. Everyone I met in Knysna went out of their way to make sure I was safe during my stay, and I am more than grateful. The people I've met so far in South Africa are some of the friendliest, most genuine people I've ever met - at home or while travelling!

Yesterday morning, Kevin came to get me first thing, and drove me to the farm. The views on the drive were breathtaking. I'm becoming one of those nerds who takes pictures out of windows. I wouldn't have it any other way!

Which brings me to today: my first day on a self-sufficient, off-the-grid farm. I could definitely get used to this! As for now, my painting is done, and I think I'm going to relax with 'On the Road' before dinner. Good travel book, no?

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them all!
the-wanderingjew@hotmail.com