I hope you are fine!
Now I have been in Cape Town for three months and I
must say time travels fast (I think African time is even faster than Norwegian
time). I can’t go home when I planned; I have to stay longer, maybe forever.
Don’t get mad at me, mom. Let me explain why. First of all, everyone loves my name. They
think it’s so beautiful that they say it at least four times when I present
myself. I kind of miss my last letter in my surname on the keyboard, but it is
OK. Some wonder if the name of my country is No Way, and some ask if it’s nice
to live in the capital of Sweden. It seems like they don’t know much about our important
country. The only Norwegian thing I have seen, except from all
the drunk students, is the Norwegian salmon in the store. Can you believe it
swam all the way from Norway?
Everything is lovely about South Africa, especially
Cape Town. Here they have their own national day for barbequing, they say “as
well” like aaaz woll, they drink
insanely green soda, wear animal hats at the university and instead of hamsters they have nose spray in their cages
at the pharmacy.
All the weather you
can imagine appears in one day and we eat a lot of chicken. Probably because they
have the biggest chickens walking around in the streets here. These beds can be really annoying and trash your
garden. That is why everyone has huge walls and electric fences in front of
their houses. Talking about birds, I think the stork comes with human babies
here. When I hear the poor, screaming babies outside and go check it out there
is always a bird flying away.
Since we don’t have a car, we have to take
taxies. There are different types of taxies here. They have the big vans with
screaming people in them, the ones with slow and spaced out drivers with
beanies and the ones that sometimes are normal cars and when they decide to be
a taxi they put a sign on the roof. The last group are often very expensive
because the hi-tech sign was a big investment for the driver.
I like the vans best. They are like party busses
that don’t have to follow the traffic rules. Everybody is friends in the taxi.
One time I even sat on the lap of two guys because it was 20 people in there. Those
guys were hygienic; instead of brushing their front teeth they had pulled them
all out!
I know you hear about people getting
killed, but it’s not really that dangerous. They even have signs everywhere
that says “No shooting!” (The S is always missing. I guess someone decided to
be funny). And they have a lot of nice people in the streets asking to take
care of your money.
When buying groceries I like to go to Pick
and Pay. That is the most luxurious store they have here because they can
afford to have numerous employees. You know how you always think you picked the
wrong line, mom? Here it doesn’t matter; every line is the wrong one! That is
what I call equality for everyone. I am really trying to eat healthy, but I
always forget to weigh my vegetables, so I have to leave them. At the register,
there is a lady trying to put my stuff in the bag and steal it, but she never
makes it.
In the beginning I thought everyone was walking unspeakably slow. They
were as predictable and logical in their choice of positions as hens. People look one way and walk another and they stop in
the middle of a crowd of people to talk to each other.
I still think that. But I
like it because then walking is more like a sport. I have to concentrate so I
don’t crash into people. Actually, Cape
Townians are never in a hurry. When they run, it’s raining. That’s a reliable
weather sign.
I’m working on my pace, though. I do the African Walk. Sometimes I
practice when I cross Main Road. To cross roads slowly proves that you are a real
Cape Townian. I haven’t failed yet! (But the rule you taught me, to look left-right-left, doesn’t work at all).
I honestly don’t think it’s wise of me to go back to Norway. I am going
to fill up everyone’s personal spaces, be punched when I call people coloured,
Indians or black, and I will get hit by a car from the left.
I hope you understand.
Jou ma se poes!
(I think it means “I love
you, mom”)
Ingvild
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