***[Remember the drill? Click on any of the smaller double-framed pictures below and that will lead you to a Picasa Web Album. Click on "Slideshow" at the upper left (and then F11 if you want full screen display.) You can control the speed and direction of the show with your arrow buttons if you wish. When you are finished, click your browser's back-button twice to get back to the Vlog.]***
South Africa- What in the World (cup)?
When our son Tyson first proposed that we join him for the World Cup, I envisioned throngs of tipsy, over-enthusiastic futbol kooks. But after experiencing the World Cup in person, my viewpoint is totally altered. The vuvuzeling crowds of Cape Town charmed me with their global charisma: a mass of friendly, thrilled people curious about one another and ecstatic to be in South Africa. Always smiling, these soccer junkies were just as pleased to grab my camera and snap my photo as they were to include me in theirs. Crazy costumes and openness took over any attempt to be overly serious about soccer. At the Portugal-Spain match, we sat between a Spaniard and a Brit, both who were attending their 4th and 6th World Cups. When the Spaniard heard Don's feeble bursts on his newly purchased vuvuzela, he commented in impeccable English, “I can't believe that I am at the World Cup and have to teach someone how to blow the vuvuzela.” Then he smiled.
Vuvu U
The vuvuzela from the Zulu language, was inspired from a kudu horn, and actually produces a B-flat tone, historically used to call South African villagers to community gatherings.
There have been health concerns about the ear-shattering volume of 70,000 bellowing vuvus honking simultaneously. However, I find that the horrible blaring loudspeakers at Seattle Sounders soccer matches are far more uncomfortable to my ears than were the vuvuzelas at the World Cup. Even the music at my spin classes is more excruciating, which is why I wear ear plugs when I work out. Trust me, the drone of the vuvuzelas firsthand in Cape Town wasn't as painful as the broadcasted force you heard on television; somehow the hum became exaggerated on the air. You just had to BE THERE!
[dv note--We'll take you there now with a little Vuvu PictoVlog--don't forget to turn up the volume!]
Click on pic below to see the vuvu album!
[dv note:
Word just out: The Union of European Football Associations (UEFA) has announced that, "the vuvuzela will not be permitted at qualifying matches for Euro 2012 or UEFA Champions League fixtures, citing concerns over their effect on stadium atmosphere." Who knew? No wonder those Europeans are so stuffy. If they would blow a vuvuzela every so often it might improve their atmosphere, or attitudes or something. Maybe not.
As we all know, soccer fans are known throughout the world as
true fanatics (surprise). Nowhere can that be demonstrated better than at the iconic Mecca of the sport, the World Cup. And after 7 weeks of traveling and adventures, we made it there. To our surprise and delight the fans brilliantly represented their own countries with color and grace. Everyone is there to enjoy the world's best soccer and have a good time. And what a time was had?]
Click on pic below to see the crazy futbol fans album!
One evening we attended the US-Ghana match in a Cape Town bar, rooting for USA and by far in the minority. Everyone was a great sport, with lots of high-fiving and cheering, no matter which team scored. Even though the US lost to Ghana, and even though I saw other teams losing or winning during matches that week, what I took away from the World Cup was a smile that couldn't leave my lips, the memory of thousands of congregated people who cared about one another, enjoyed a lively sport, and respected others' rights to be wildly enthusiastic about life for any zany reason whatsoever. It was a captivating experience: The
World in a
Cup of Bubbling and Exhilarating Vuvuing!
Click on pic below to see the Ghana v. USA album!
Cape Town and More
Of course the World Cup wasn’t just about futbol. Don and I joined Tyson and dear family friends Ryan Fitzsimmons [Fitz] and Steve Merritt, all travelers extrordinaires, as we traipsed around the environs of Capetown.
We indulged in wine tasting at Stellenbosch and Franschoek regions near Cape Town,
Click on this picture to drink in the wine tour pictures:
and climbed the glorious and challenging Table Mountain,
Learn what the Table Cloth is by clicking on this photo and doing the slideshow:
shopped in a colorful array of craft markets,
and finally survived a day of shark cage diving among great white sharks. If you like swirly seas, shivery water, and 30 people upchucking around you while you squish into a wire cage to be submerged as gaping white jaws of a behemoth shark ram towards your face, I recommend a shark cage dive. Otherwise, go to the botanical gardens. When I told Tyson that I wasn't scared, he asked me, “Then what were all those shuddering, whiny noises that you whimpered out right before we went underwater?” Well, maybe I was a little nervous (as in scared out of my mind!)
Click on this pic if you dare:
We spent our final day in South Africa gawking at penguins, baboons and whales, and exploring the enrapturing Cape Point coastline as we tromped across the Cape of Good Hope in a gusty rainfall.
Check out the tip of Africa by clicking on this photo:
Birthright is a Whopping Word
Hanging with our son and his friends in South Africa was a delicious treat. We swapped travel adventures and compared the foods we had sampled on earlier adventures (Tyson and Ryan had just wrapped up a month-long overland trip across Namibia and Mozambique, and Steve had recently returned from Haiti). As we talked, I became acutely aware that much of my fortune comes from the simple fact that I am American. My place of birth and upbringing has offered me opportunities that are unavailable in most other countries. Call it entitlement. I was born lucky. The ability to spend my day on activities other than fetching water and food and making sure I can stay alive one more day affords me boundless chances for success. More than merely a subsistence living, I have had the luxury to focus on my education, my avocations, and a career and family of my choice. Just this month, Newsweek features an article about top-rated countries in which to live. Standards such as education, medical services, economic viability, and political stability are cited. I may have been unable to become the person I am today had I not been birthed in the US; what I have been given in my birthright truly is unfathomable in other lands. The word ‘birthright’ is a virtual license of ‘chance plus opportunity,’ a term that means more as I compare what I have to others who are just as deserving but not so lucky. I cannot take for granted this prospect, not only as a citizen of my nation, but as a citizen of the world.
The World Cup. That's why we started this journey. Now, after 20 flights in 60 days including 56 nights of sleeping in an assortment of hotel rooms, river cruise cabins, dessert tents, jungle platforms, Chinese and Egyptian train berths, and airplane seats, we are home. Throughout our travels we have been hauled about by myriads of drivers of every imaginable transport: taxi, rickshaw, bicycle, horse cart, camel, tuk-tuk, moto, government bus, van, private car, longboat ferry, jet, private tour bus, safari truck, ferryboat, train, helicopter, mountain tram, powerboat, desert jeep, and pickup truckbed. I feel gratitude to every driver, captain, pilot and engineer for our safe passage, for the thousands of instant decisions made on our behalf, each imperative to our survival. I thank them in my heart for the honesty and the enlightenment they volunteered while escorting us across the world. Even to those chauffeurs I did not meet, perhaps tucked into a cockpit or high above me on a captain’s bridge, I feel grateful. We have wondrously traveled in the palms of a thousand safe hands. During our trip, we experienced no theft, and lost only two pair of sunglasses, and those we left behind absentmindedly. It seems a miracle.
Two days after having arrived back in Olympia, my passport still sits scrunched in my yet unpacked travel bags. I venture out to do some errands. After going to the bank and buying groceries, I return home in the comfort of my purring vehicle. The roads are silk under my tires, and all stop lights function in harmony. I park in my double garage and marvel at the silence. During the past two hours, no one offered to get me a better bargain in the produce aisle; no one shouted out that they could drive me somewhere, or asked if I needed a taxi, or inquired if I would like to visit their store or stall, or invited me to sample a bite in their restaurant. No one threw a scarf around my neck and exclaimed it was almost free. No one stared at me, or asked if I needed directions or bottled water or a beaded bracelet or a tour of the town. No one said anything to me whatsoever. I might as well have been a deaf mute. I signed my charge card bill without showing ID or even talking to anyone. Now I exit my car and enter my house. I utter to myself, It's lonely. Even a wheezing vuvuzela would offer solace.
But six weeks later, I have begun to adjust. I am getting along. And suddenly I hear a honk in our driveway. My postal deliverer climbs out of her car, hoisting a package. It is crumpled and misshapen, but I recognize it immediately. Three-and-one-half months later, here is our unexpected package long-ago mailed from the sweaty public post office in Phnom Penh. Don rushes downstairs and we open it together. We smile and recognize that impressions of this magical trip will stay with us forever. We are not alone. We are surrounded by the enchanting memories of our journey.
Thanks for following our VolkVenture Vlogs.
Ciao 4 now!
See you next time?
Don and Chris
BTW, don't forget to check out my latest signs' show
Signs II, available by clicking on its tab at the top of the page!
