Too Much Information

These days everyone is afraid of child abductions and my question is this. Are there more child abductions now than there used to be? Or are we just more aware of child abductions because of the amount of information available to us through the vast technology to which we have access? I have this same question about Autism, peanut allergies and ADHD. Did those issues exist back when I was a kid and we just didn't know? Or is there something in our environment making these problems more prevalent now than they were forty years ago? Don't answer. If I really want to know I can google it. 

Because I live nearly 8,000 miles away from my home country and many loved ones, I enjoy having information about what everyone back in America is up to and I am fortunate because I live in the age of technology and I can easily access this information. I can what'sapp with my mom every day to say hello. Mr. Deep and I can Skype, Face Time, email, and go on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter (we are too old for Snapchat.) In fact, it's only when I am on the plane flying to the U.S. from Joburg or vice versa that I fully realize how far away we currently live from America. When you have flown seven hours and still have another eleven to go you think "holy $%$&@ the world is a big place and we live far from home!" But most of the time I don't feel so far from home because of the technology that allows us to communicate and keep in touch. 

So I like technology. I'm a fan. Except lately I hate it. Facebook in particular has become intolerable in my opinion. Six months or a year ago Facebook was only mildly annoying. Last year, thanks to Facebook, I was kept fully up to speed on important American news topics such as the Starbucks red cups fiasco and the Target bathroom gender saga. Without Facebook, I would have missed important "holidays" like international frozen yogurt day or love your pet parakeet day. But these days I am avoiding Facebook because the U.S. election talk is more than I can take. 

For months leading up to the election, Facebook was unbearable and now that the election is over it is even worse. The entire news feed is full of political posts from people on all sides. Viewpoints are one thing but Facebook is full of fighting, nasty comments, stupid memes and links to articles that try to dumb everything down. 

Everyone is so busy talking and blasting out his or her opinion five times a day on Facebook that no one is taking the time to try to understand what anyone else thinks. Have you ever, EVER seen a Facebook post where someone commented "thanks Chris, your post really opened my eyes, I now fully understand your viewpoint and even if I don't agree with it I appreciate the opportunity to have my mind expanded" No, you haven't.  

I also don't want to know the political leanings of Timmy from third grade or Toby my former co-worker. Because I used to like Toby. I liked seeing photos of his kids and his dogs but now that I know the full details of Toby's political thoughts I think that he is a total neanderthal. And if it wasn't for Facebook Toby would not even be in my life and now he is in my life daily and I don't want him there anymore. 

So I have to take a break from Facebook. I can't fully break away because someone might post a cute photo of me that I need to see so I will glance at Facebook now and then. But that will be the extent. 

Sunday in Soweto

"If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter." 

- Principal McGee, Grease. 

On Sunday, Mr. Deep successfully ran and completed the Soweto Marathon. For those who don't know, a marathon is 26.2 miles/42 kilometers.  This is an extraordinary achievement and I am very proud of Mr. Deep not just for completing such a difficult physical event but also for the amount of training he has put in over the past months. He truly committed himself to this endeavor.

This post isn't about Mr. Deep's race though. Instead it's about my experiences spending a good part of the morning on my own in Soweto as a race spectator.

I have written posts about Soweto before but as a quick refresher, Soweto stands for South West Township. Blacks were forced to live in townships during the apartheid era and Soweto is the most densely populated black residential area in the country. Parts of Soweto look like a middle class neighborhood but other areas are informal settlements filled with shacks. Soweto is rich in history. Both Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu lived in Soweto and the Soweto uprising of 1976 was a major event which garnered the attention of the world and led to increased sanctions and pressure on the apartheid government to change its ways. Although clearly it took a while.

On Friday evening, before the race Mr. Deep and I decided that on Saturday we would review the course route and come up with my spectator plan. On Saturday, Mr. Deep emailed me a course map (from the other room) and suggested that I, "figure out where I was going to be."

I would rather it had been a collaborative process. But Mr. Deep was obviously feeling stressed about the race and he didn't seem to want any part in the development of my plan. I thought about pushing the issue but decided not to. I think running a marathon is kind of like going in for surgery. No one who is going in for surgery is too concerned with the plans of those around them. You would not ask someone who was going in for surgery, "hey, where do you think I should eat lunch tomorrow while you are under the knife?" Or, "what time do you think you'll be finished? I have plans in the evening." So I left it alone and tried to come up with a plan on my own. To make matters worse, I was also given the world's worst map, one with a lot of missing street names.

I do realize there are plenty of wives who would say to their husbands, "have a great race and I'll see you when you get home." I also know there are a lot of expat wives (and South African wives for that matter) who would tell their husbands "sorry but I'm not cruising around Soweto by myself."  But I decided to suck it up and figure it out. This is the kind of relationship that Mr. Deep and I have. When one asks the other to do something, the person who was asked is supposed to do it...with a smile. This would be a good time to mention that following 9/11 Mr. Deep rented the last car in Houston and drove non-stop all the way to Minneapolis to rescue me and then he drove us home to New York. 

When I looked at the race website to see if there was any kind of information for spectators I couldn't find anything. Finally, I found a section about friends and family in the FAQ section. Only it wasn't very helpful.

The race began at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m and so we had to leave the house by 4:30. Unfortunately even 4:30 was not quite early enough because as we got close to Soweto the traffic was horrible as thousands of runners were trying to get to FNB Stadium for the start of the race. If you are a devoted fan and long time reader of my blog, you might enjoy the irony of the fact that the race began at FNB Stadium. 

We sat in traffic, barely moving, for about 45 minutes. Finally, Mr. Deep was running out of time and he got out of the car to walk to the start. Of course, as soon as he got out of the car the traffic started moving. He got back in the car and I was able to drop him off him pretty close to the stadium. I then continued on my way to the first point where I planned to stop and watch the race.

Walking to start.

I decided my first stop would be about 4-5 miles into the race. The map was so bad that I can't even tell you exactly what mile marker it was. I chose the location because it was near a big hospital, named after Chris Hani that I had passed on a tour once. I figured that A) a hospital is a safe place to be and even if it's not safe if something happens to you you're already at the hospital and B) a hospital has parking. 

But I guess I forgot that I was in South Africa because while the hospital had parking it also had massive security and a gate with guards so it wasn't like I could just drive right in and park. I saw a few race marshalls standing near the hospital and they suggested I turn around and park at the petrol (gas) station where they themselves had parked.

I parked at the petrol station and then walked down to where the marshalls were. In true South African form these women were so nice and friendly that we soon became best friends. They asked me where I was from. Partially I think because of my accent but also partially because they don't get a lot of white women hanging out alone in Soweto. I stayed with them and got to see Mr. Deep pass by and then I moved on to my next location.

 

Jabu

Busi (who also goes by Lillian) is on the left. I didn't get the name of the woman on my right.

Someone must have driven into this traffic light. It still works though. 

My next location was to be around mile 17 near Vilakazi Street a very vibrant and famous part of Soweto. This is the street where both Mandela and Tutu lived. I chose it because I figured it was early enough in the race where I would still be able to see Mr. Deep finish and also because (you guessed it) I had been there before on a tour. 

Driving to mile 17 from mile 4 (or wherever I was) proved challenging as I kept ending up having to drive across the race course. While this was frustrating for me, it was extremely frustrating for those people who were going about their business and had nothing to do with the race. The taxi drivers seemed especially inconvenienced. And since taxi drivers never follow any traffic rules of the road, they were certainly not going to let a few thousand runners get in their way. The race marshalls had a tough job trying to control the traffic. At one point I saw a race marshall sitting on the hood of a car trying to stop the driver from driving through the race course. Sadly, I didn't get a photo of that!

Here is a marshall arguing with a driver.

A nice shot of the Orlando Towers a Soweto landmark.

I arrived near Vilakazi street and parked in front of a church. Tip of the day when driving around Soweto park near churches and hospitals. Vilakazi Street did not disappoint as there was a lot of entertainment, music and energy and while I would have liked to hang out there I thought it would be better to go around the corner and try to create a little excitement along a quieter stretch of the course. I walked down to a residential area and began cheering my heart out for every runner who went by. Eventually Mr. Deep came along and then I was free to head to the finish. 

Entertainment on Vilakazi Street.

Getting to FNB Stadium was difficult as I somehow had to cross the race route twice. I finally made it and parked near a long pedestrian bridge. The man who helped me park my car told me it cost R30 to park there and while I think that was total BS, I paid it anyway. 

On one of my tours I learned that FNB Stadium, which was built for the 2010 world cup, is supposed to look like a giant class of beer with a foam head. It actually does but you can't tell from this photo. 

I headed inside to meet our thoughtful and kind friends who had also shown up to support Mr. Deep. We all then watched Mr. Deep cross the finish line. 
 

Mr. Deep, his post race beer and his Soweto Marathon Medal. 

Clicks

In October of 2015, Mr. Deep and I came to South Africa for the first time. This trip, which I now know to be called a "look-see" in the expat world, was required by Mr. Deep's company. We were told we had to visit, take a look at Joburg and determine whether or not we could live here. 

When we arrived, and by arrived I mean a few hours after we landed for the first time ever on the African continent, Mr. Deep had some work meetings to attend and so a representative from our assigned relocation company took me around. She showed me the places that Mr. Deep told her I'd be interested in seeing, grocery stores, shopping centers and a gym. We also looked at a few houses just to get an idea of what was available. Because there are lovely stores of all kinds in Joburg, and because I desperately wanted to move here, I was thrilled with everything that I saw. 

One of the places she and I visited was Clicks, a drug store which has hundreds (360 according to google) of locations across the country. The first few times I visited Clicks it seemed to be very similar to the large chain drugstores that I was used to shopping at in the U.S., selling drugs, cosmetics, lotions, candy etc. 

But after a few shopping trips to Clicks I realized that while it has some similarities, it also has some differences. 

The biggest difference is that at Clicks the real drugs are not available on the shelves. Maybe this is common in other parts of the world as well? Clicks, it seems, takes the phrase "over the counter" literally. This means that if you have a headache and want something like Advil that you have to go to the counter and ask the pharmacist or the pharmacist's assistant for "something that will help a headache preferably with Ibuprofen" you then rely on that person to bring you something good. What I really feel like doing is jumping behind the counter, seeing what's available and then selecting my drug of choice, but that is not an option. This is the case for any type of ailment, congestion, allergies, sleeping problems, sore throat, cough, etc. In the U.S. we are used to grabbing a bottle of 500 Advil tablets and being set for the next year or more. Here, you are lucky to get 12 tablets because remember you said you had a headache, you didn't say that you expected to have another headache tomorrow or the next day. 

Prescription medicines are also kept behind the counter and if you visit the counter to get either over the counter meds or a prescription filled your drugs are put into a "cage. " You will then carry this cage up to the cash register to pay. Once paid, the staff will open the cage and give you your drugs. I am assuming this is done to dissuade people from stealing drugs but the cage is secured with a zip tie so any thief with a scissor could likely find a way around this system. Of course I am not recommending that or condoning theft. 

The "cage" and the zip tie.

So if all the real drugs at Clicks are kept behind the counter, then what type of merchandise fills the numerous aisles? Well some of the things I've already mentioned. Things like shampoo, lotions, soaps, make-up and candy. And that is why the first few times you visit Clicks seems to be quite unremarkable. But, there are also a lot of interesting elixirs and remedies for sale at Clicks that I've never seen before many of which I find quite funny.

I tried to google to see what Sejeso means. If anyone knows please comment. 

Who doesn't want to be super chill all day?

"To comfort babies with gripes." 

Or, if you don't want a baby with a gripe, try these. 

This one is my favourite for so many reasons. The name of the product, the man's hair, the woman's expression, the fact that it's needed because of "today's demanding lifestyle" and of course his seemingly extra long finger. 

Man Juice

More condoms.

Apparently featuring a photo of Dr. Long himself. 

One item that is for sale galore is Grand-Pa Headache powder. You can grab this stuff right off the shelf. Which is funny because although headache powder is sold in the U.S., very few people know about it or have ever tried it. I actually have tried it thanks to a friend of mine who is a huge proponent of headache powder. I think it's really just crushed up aspirin but it comes in a little folded piece of paper so you can pour it right down your throat. 

Wild Dogs!

It is my belief that a person can go on hundreds of game drives over the course of his or her life and never be bored. Hopefully the same applies to people who read a blog that contains frequent posts about game drives. Hopefully it does not become boring after a while.

I think game drives are like snowflakes, fingerprints and zebras in that no two are alike. Sometimes game drives are action packed with many different sightings. Sometimes they are thrilling as you may watch an animal stalking prey.  Other times, you may quietly watch an animal as it relaxes, drinks from a water hole or minds its babies. 

Recently we brought family visiting from the U.S.A. to the Ivory Tree Game Lodge in Pilanesberg National Park. It was the first safari experience for the group and I am happy to say everyone loved it. Happy because as SVP of Household Operations, I planned the whole holiday.  Our guide, Ryan, was excellent and we had many exciting and special sightings. 

On the first game drive after dark we spotted a leopard. Leopards are not something that you see everyday and we tried to tell our guests that but they were too busy being amazed to listen. Mr. Deep and I have heard stories of people who are desperate to see a leopard because despite years of trying they never have. 

Not a great photo.

Sometimes within minutes of the start of a game drive something fantastic happens, right out of the gate as they say, and that's what happened to us the day that we spotted a small pack of three African wild dogs. 

Ryan called wild dogs the "holy grail" of game viewing and he was so excited that we got to see them that he took out his camera out and was taking pictures. He said it had been three months since he had seen wild dogs.  When writing this, I couldn't remember why exactly wild dogs are such a rare sighting so I had to ask resident expert (on everything) Mr. Deep and he explained that they are endangered, have very large territories, move quickly and spend time hiding in dens. 

Ryan told us that the three that we saw broke away from a larger pack.  We watched them for a long while and eventually they came closer enabling some super photos! 

While the cheetah is the fastest land animal, wild dogs can run very fast (up to about 35 miles per hour) for long periods of time. Cheetahs cannot run fast for extended time periods. Wild dogs hunt in packs and are considered to be the most efficient hunters.

While in Pilanesberg we also enjoyed some more animal sightings.  

Hippo out of water. Another rare thing to see. 

Yes the birdman is still at it. 

Weaver bird building a nest. 

The family with ranger extraordinaire Ryan.

The Bubble

Just because I moved nearly 8,000 miles (13,000 km) from home doesn't mean I don't get stuck in my own little bubble sometimes. Poking a sharp object at the walls of your bubble requires constant focus and effort I think, no matter where you live. We all get into routines. We like to eat at the same restaurants over and over, we like to have friends who are similar to us and who think the same things are laugh out loud funny even if we've already laughed about those same things a hundred times before. 

In Joburg, being adventurous carries an extra element of complexity. Because of the crime problem, most of us, expats and non, spend a lot of time looking over our shoulders, staying put in our own neighborhoods and avoiding talking to people who could possibly be dangerous.  And that's the funny thing about moving to Joburg, you're automatically brave for doing it but you can easily end up living in a bubble surrounded by other expats, guards, gates and walls. 

Of course I want to be safe but I don't want to live in a bubble. So I try to take small steps on a regular basis to make sure I'm not getting too comfortable.  

Recently, I stopped to talk with a guy who has set up a "shop" on the side of the road near our house. He sells potted plants and paintings. I think his art was originally created to market the potted plants but it's my theory that over time he became more excited about the art than the plants because although the plants remain more and more paintings appear.

I had been driving by this guy almost daily for a while and wanted to stop and talk to him but there seemed to always be a reason that I couldn't or didn't. Back to safety for a moment, I don't consider stopping to chat with this guy to be putting myself in a dangerous situation as he is set up right along side of a busy road and of course I would only stop during the day, but I do think this is a good example of a situation that some others would avoid. If for no other reason than they might think we should not be encouraging this person to set up a make-shift shop on the side of the road in our nice community. Also, it appeared that he was living on the side of the road in a sort of lean to that he created out of found items. I am sure this is frowned upon by many of his permanent-dwelling neighbors. 

The man's name is Sisepho. He came here from Mozambique. I bought two of his paintings. The paintings are made on a white coated press board, similar to a shelf that you'd find in a closet. I asked him to sign the paintings and he said he didn't have a pen to do so, so I drove the three minutes back to my house, grabbed a sharpie and brought it to him. Even though he said his name is Sisepho he signed the paintings with another name which looks like S larlosmama. He explained why but I really couldn't understand the reason. He also wrote "30" in a few spots which I understood to be his age. 

The first painting I bought was clearly designed to help him sell plants. The second is a large painting of a snake which now proudly sits on the mantle in my living room. It's been about a month since I bought these paintings and I am loving the snake painting more and more everyday. To quote the TV shows on HGTV, this painting really "pops!" I asked Mr. Deep the other night if he didn't just love the snake painting and he replied that no, he really doesn't like it at all. 

The plant painting I bought.

If you know me, you might be surprised to learn that I'd put a painting of a snake in my house because I don't like snakes. But that's the whole point. The snake reminds me to keep getting outside my comfort zone. 

Snake painting. It pops!