Waiting. The most consistent theme in our quest to the Continent. It began with waiting to be accepted to UCT, continued with waiting for the South African embassy to finally return our visa-ed passports, was sprinkled with waiting in airports, on runways, by fellow airplane passengers, and near pyramids, and ended with waiting for permanent housing whilst barricaded in a dorm room. It was both appropriate and somewhat nostalgic, then, when we realized that "waiting" would also be defining our introduction to the University of Cape Town.
Before this blog begins to sound too melancholy, I would like to note that I enjoyed many positive experiences in our week-long orientation to UCT. However, I will not trifle you with frilly summaries of our beautiful trip around the peninsula, our enlightening information sessions in the lecture hall, or even our picturesque housing situation. Nay. KARK may waist your time with sentimental anecdotes about puppies and the elderly, but I will stick to what has been the bread and butter for Wall Street, the New York Times, and Bill O'Reilly for a hundred plus years: the cruel, bitter, unapologetic realities of life. This is a no spin zone, people. Look for your Delilahs and your Danielle Steeles on someone else's blog.
Now back to my story. We found "Waiting," like an unwelcome distant relative, popping in to say hello all throughout our first week in Cape Town. This time, though, he introduced himself as a "Queue." Now queue is a rather nasty word South Africans utter frequently. It comes in the forms of verb and noun: "to queue"--to wait in a line that is of an unholy length and "queue"--said line that is of an unholy length. We queued for pre-registration, queued for transportation, waited in a queue for registration and ended with a magnificent, 3-hour queuing for ID cards. Some might have been anticipating a South Africa of primitiveness with eager anticipation, but I was looking forward to a country that had fallen deeply in love--much like our beloved America--with the wonderful World Wide Web. Apparently, they are still in an open relationship...and it's complicated.
Thus, to sum up my first Cape Townian week I will call on the lingo of my new South African compadres: hectic admin, bru.
But alas, as classes begin this Friday, there is a light at the end of this bureaucratic tunnel. Until then, I will hang out with Waiting for 3 more days and pass the time with Braais and the Beach. Sunnier days are sure to come, my friends. Sunnier days, indeed.
Before this blog begins to sound too melancholy, I would like to note that I enjoyed many positive experiences in our week-long orientation to UCT. However, I will not trifle you with frilly summaries of our beautiful trip around the peninsula, our enlightening information sessions in the lecture hall, or even our picturesque housing situation. Nay. KARK may waist your time with sentimental anecdotes about puppies and the elderly, but I will stick to what has been the bread and butter for Wall Street, the New York Times, and Bill O'Reilly for a hundred plus years: the cruel, bitter, unapologetic realities of life. This is a no spin zone, people. Look for your Delilahs and your Danielle Steeles on someone else's blog.
Now back to my story. We found "Waiting," like an unwelcome distant relative, popping in to say hello all throughout our first week in Cape Town. This time, though, he introduced himself as a "Queue." Now queue is a rather nasty word South Africans utter frequently. It comes in the forms of verb and noun: "to queue"--to wait in a line that is of an unholy length and "queue"--said line that is of an unholy length. We queued for pre-registration, queued for transportation, waited in a queue for registration and ended with a magnificent, 3-hour queuing for ID cards. Some might have been anticipating a South Africa of primitiveness with eager anticipation, but I was looking forward to a country that had fallen deeply in love--much like our beloved America--with the wonderful World Wide Web. Apparently, they are still in an open relationship...and it's complicated.
Thus, to sum up my first Cape Townian week I will call on the lingo of my new South African compadres: hectic admin, bru.
But alas, as classes begin this Friday, there is a light at the end of this bureaucratic tunnel. Until then, I will hang out with Waiting for 3 more days and pass the time with Braais and the Beach. Sunnier days are sure to come, my friends. Sunnier days, indeed.
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