We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Part of the charm of traveling for us has been the fun cultural differences and surprises along the way. We have felt sadness as exotic places continue to become more homogenized. But we have plenty of new differences to celebrate here.

This place has deep British roots, from the colonial architecture to the word usage. After Sunday dinner you must have jelly (Jello) and pudding, (any type of dessert). Rum raisin ice cream trumps chocolate. Then our jelly is jam and pudding is custard or creme. Since we are always freezing in the mornings and evenings - these homes are built to stay cool in summer since no A/C - I purchased a "knee rug", big enough for both D and I to wrap up. Stop lights are robots, speed bumps are sleeping policeman, when driving (yikes stripes!) you must give to the right of way, literally. The trucks on the roads are buckies (small pick-ups), combis (campers), and taxies (mini-buses). My washing powder, detergent, is to be closed with a peg, or clothes pin. (I have a old-fashioned real clothes line, resembling an inverted bumbershoot.) Oh, tea is the thing, not coffee. Only instant stuff is hospitably offered to visitors; a real coffee pot and real coffee were included our in initial shopping spree. Our beds are made up with dubai, lovely to see but feel very heavy after a few hours of slumber, so I bought cotton sheets and a blanket, very pricy. In fact, the prices generally have not reflected our much anticipated lower cost of living.

My Zulu words so far are saw-BONE-na (I see you, I acknowledge you), answered by YEA-bo (back at ya), and BO-bo (our thatched patio under which we will eventually have a traditional braai, pronounced "bry", or bisected oil drum, covered with a screen for grilling).

Security is a must here, a BIG deal. I think we are the only house without man-eating dogs that lunge at their fences as folks walk by. Our house has the ubiquitous high walls surrounding the property with the bell to push for entry thru the mechanized gate. We each have a "clicker" and keys for every room and cabinet and folding security gate at each outside door, the old-fashioned JAIL kinds. I still can't remember to open the front gate to let whatever workman is here back out and/or remember to lock every blasted thing that should be locked at night! And then there's the security system alarm which I discovered our second night here when attempting to turn on the hall light… LOUD and SCARY and how does one turn it off?? Knowing we were awakening the entire neighborhood, D madly pushed buttons and tried to use the phone attached to the alarm box, to no avail. It FINALLY stopped. Whew. There was a slip of paper under the front door the next AM; the security guy had indeed been by. Good to know. And we have a zillion windows, sans screens, that open out and hook in varying ways, letting in the warmth during the day, all with serious bars. Ronnie, our main handyman, attached photo-sensitive security floodlights at every corner of the house. We lay in bed at night with our curtains diffusing the outside brightness, our space heater glowing softly, reflecting off the built-in cupboards along the wall. It looks like Christmas in front of the fire.

Emphasis on security spills over into all aspects of life here. Malls parking lots have gated, take a ticket entrances, manned by uniformed attendants, assisted by uniformed car guards, with whom it is wise to become friendly and then tip R5, about 70 cents. Upon entering a store with packages (packets), you must check the bags and upon leaving, the uniformed guard checks your purchases against the receipt, like at Sam's Club. Opening our bank account, purchasing cell phones, buying our TV, setting up the antenna (not yet), buying a car (not yet),and getting a land line (not yet) all required copious paper work and consternation.

The metric kitchen throws me; I keep pushing buttons on the microwave requiring me to input a weight in order to start. Whatever! Thankfully the measuring cups and spoons we bought are labeled with both systems. Reading the package nutritional labels is totally confusing. (Even our MD couldn't evaluate our blood work reports or recognize several of our medication dosages.) Thank God for the Internet with temperature conversion charts. Most every appliance in this house has the instruction booklet; you can bet we have been studying those. For our first home cooked dinner in SA, we invited Shayne, SMMS president's wife (the seminary owns four houses in a row, right around the corner from SMMS, and Ross and Shayne thankfully live next door) for dinner since Ross was in Joburg. It took us and Shayne a long time to get our oven to work, and she lives here.

Products packaging is interesting. Zip locks are few and far between; on the brown sugar, or muscovado, the instructions read, "Keep channel clear by removing any sugar particles with a toothpick". Most bags startlingly rip apart when I attempt to open them. If the product is likely to be stolen, go for the hack saw. And remember old Saran wrap? I'm in a time-warp-wrap. I covet your Press 'n Seal. Our vitamins come in generic small foil packages with the name stamped at the top.

This is enough musing for now. We are still lovin' it and will continue to be amused and amazed as our adventure continues. Stay tuned.