T.I.A.

I was surpried with my first road trip to Jeffery's Bay this weekend, which is about an hours drive outside of PE. Two Irish girls, Sarah D and West Side Sarah, rented a dodgey VW Fox that putted all the way there to a lovely little cottage fully stocked with numerous cockroaches. The other two California girls and myself introduced the Irish Sarahs to "Mexican" food in down town J-Bay, which is to say that we scarfed down spicy meat with copious amounts of melted cheese and some South African excuse for sour cream. The girl's loved it and I made mine edible by splashing it with enough hot sauce to make an elephant sweat. Then I made friends with a wonderfully beautiful woman who was in fact the owner of the resturant. She turned out to be quite smitten with us ladies and generously bought us several rounds of tequilla shots. We all made a pathetic attempt to speak Spanish and then she taught a few dirty words in Xhosa before the strobe light was turned on and we left. Next we stumbled in to a barn blasting a nice medley of Afrikaans line dancing music and early 90s RnB. There was a thick layer of baby powder on the wood floor, making it a keen location for taking long, sweeping strides and spinning your partner with ease. We finally headed home to a kitchen covered in cockroaches and being the wild child I am, I decided to take charge of extermination duties. I caught them with a cup and piece of paper, and Britta flushed them down the toilet. These bugs hiss like nothing I've ever heard and after about twenty minutes of this, I got quite nausiated and passed out in a steaming hot room. It was awesome.
After some retail therapy and our car trouble right outside of PE, I had a party (which pretty much seems to be a theme thus far) and played poparazi once again. Saturdays are good here: beach during th day, Braais at dusk and beers into the late night. Sundays are way better. I awoke, still sporting the grass and red dust on my feet and was swooped for a concert at Victoria Park. I was fortunate enough to have been brought by the guy that knew everyone who was playing, so I shook hands and introduced my self to the entertainers before they stepped on stage. I don't know how, but I've allready managed VIP status here. There was a full orchestra that opened with Circle of Life no less while the beautiful Balla Brothers harmonized. These young men are like the African barbershop trio that you always wanted a serenade from...or maybe that's just me. They had my on my feet, dancing and clapping my hands to the glorious clicks and percussion-like tongue of Xhosa. My first experince at a live African show was a hit. This tradition continued with church at six. NMMU has an awesome pastor and equally awesome band that backed 4 singers with some serious pipes. The sermon was deleivered to hundreds of youth, mostly my South African peers at school. The topic was grace and my word, I have never felt so at home in a church. It was incredibly beautiful, moving really, so I made a point of making friends to go with next Sunday. Dinner was then cooked for me while I practiced my Xhosa and disscussed the possiblities of another road trip, this time to Cape Town in March. Three weeks deep and I continue to be amazed...