GO PIRATES! - 11/07/12

Flak vark - Pumbaa

Private room in Kilimanjaro  

GABBY - We woke up to another morning of John in a grumpy mood.  Ben and I defined him as a bully.  His bullying nature can be really off-putting and nasty, which I don’t understand and don’t mesh well with.  During our pillow talk last night, I told Ben that he runs an interactive, friendly, cultural business with brute force.  It could be managed with so much more grace and so much less hostility.  So, we woke up to another morning of that.  I can tell Ben is getting frustrated and stir-crazy.  There are things we still want to do here, and it’s looking like it is becoming less likely as the days dwindle down.  We are leaving Orange Elephant in 5 days.  We set-off doing some mundane window painting until we decided to try and check an item off of Ben’s list of things to do before we leave.  We went over to Hazel’s to see if she could whip us up some of her highly recommended Springbok burgers.  It was a miracle that she was actually there, considering they have stopped serving lunch there altogether to give them more time to prepare their new place.  She told us that she was going to the new restaurant for an hour, but would be back to make us some burgers.  Score!  At least something was going right for us today!  We returned back to paint for an hour and then sat down to enjoy the freshness that is Hazel’s cooking.  Randy was also in a foul mood, having kicked 2 customers out last night because he overheard them bitching about prices.  The aggression is almost too much to bear around here sometimes.  We waited patiently for our burgers and sipped on Cokes.  Hazel served us the burgers with chips (fries) and salad topped with her famous honey mustard –esque dressing.  Hazel strikes again!  The food was delicious and worth our weeks of waiting.  We returned to our work in a much better mood; satisfied and full.  We finished our task for the day, showered, and changed for our big night out on the town –ship.  Sarel and Kait have a friend who works in the park that invited us all to a jazz club in the townships called Kilimanjaro.  I have never been in a township at night, but we were meeting someone and were in a group of 7.  I didn’t think this was the smartest idea, but no one else seemed to have any reservations.  We got in the car and drove as the sun seemed to set with incredible speed, making it darker and darker.  We walked into the jazz club to find an entirely black crowd.  No sign of Marcel.  There weren’t that many people there, maybe 10, but oh the looks we got.  I think the bartender could count the number of times a white person stepped into that club on her right hand.  We made a beeline for the bar, which was behind steel bars.  I didn’t feel unsafe, but I certainly didn’t feel comfortable.  I hate to admit that I was thinking of ways to best protect myself, should any danger arise.  Awful thoughts, but I just want to be prepared.  We were directed into a small room with a sliding glass door with couches and a flat screen TV.  Overall, the club was really clean, almost to the point of immaculate.  We drank and talked, easing the mood and my mind.  There was a football (soccer) game on and clear Orlando Pirates fans in the building.  The Pirates scored and the place erupted with cheers.  After an hour or so, and Marcel still a no-show, we decided to depart.  On the way out, we passed a lot of fans watching the game, so I shouted, “GO PIRATES” as we left.  The place literally ignited with screams, cheers, whistles, and hollers.  It was an ice breaker, which occurred a little too late, I think.  I still left with a smirk on my face and with the notion that people aren’t so different from each other.  A sport is a sport; fans are fans.  You can rally fans wherever you are in this sports-obsessed world of ours.  After Kilimanjaro, we went to Africanos for more drinks and pool.  Ben and I kicked ass, winning 3 games straight.  I’m getting better!!  We returned to the backpackers extremely hungry and a bit drunk.  We made some sandwiches out of the roasted chicken and gobbled them up in what felt like a fraction of a second.  Ben and I walked through the rain and exhaustedly fell into bed.