It was late Tuesday night in Cape Town and we were staying with Andy, a friend of a friend. It was our first night with him and because we had arrived at his house late that evening, we had just enough time for a key exchange to the place we’d be sleeping for the next few days. Upon entering his house, I dropped my bag, got ready for bed and crawled into the sleeping bag which extended on the pullout sofa in the living room. I had drifted off to a deep sleep when I woke up to a knock on the door. ‘Was I imagining it?’ I asked myself half awake. ‘Could someone really be knocking on the front door at..,’ I looked at my watch, ’3:00am?’ I layed there for a bit before I heard the knock again, this time louder. The security light on the front porch would earily go on and off with the movement of the rapper outside. I tried to reason with myself; ‘maybe he’s just drunk and trying to find his way home.’ The knocking stopped for a few minutes until the security sensored light came on and suddenly the criminal outside was picking the locks. I was horrified. This must be a nightmare. I sat there numb thinking this guy was going to find a way in no matter how long it took. The picking continued as he got closer and closer to entering Andy’s house.  I laid absolutely still in my sleeping bag, a cold sweat collecting all over my body. ‘Should I wake up Andy?’ ‘Should I call the Cape Town police?’ ‘Should I just lay here hoping that he won’t notice the blob of sleeping bag with my body under it?’ Frozen by fear I chickened out and laid there deathly still praying that he would pass over me if or when he broke in. And suddenly, the lock clicked, and the door opened. ‘Oh dear god, please don’t let this be true,’ I muttered under my breath. The man walked slowly and quietly down the hall right to the living room. He stopped for a second before moving on into the kitchen and toward the back room. I sat there breathing shallowly under my sleeping bag while the intruder disappeared into the back room and became silent. ‘What is he doing?’ I thought to myself. I laid there like this for the next 45 minutes not hearing another sound. ‘Maybe he snuck out the back window?’ I thought. I laid there as attentive as possible until I slowly drifted into a restless light sleep. I woke up the next morning paranoid by what had happened the night before. Do I dare go to the bathroom by the back room?

Later on, I told Andy what had happened and it was then that I found out that he has a flatmate who lives in the back room. Apparently, he works late in the restaurant business and was trying to get into his own house. I felt like such a fool. The ironic thing is, we locked him out of his own house. To make matters worse, I almost called the police on him. After hearing the new info, I sat there thinking ‘ well at least it pays to be a chicken sometimes.’

We had a long transition into our first destination…. a very long transition. Our international flight went from NYC, to Egypt, to Sudan, to Kenya, to Johannesburg, to Durban and finally arrived in Cape Town South Africa 44 hours later. While we were both exhausted from the travel, it only took us a day to get our bodies and minds on South Africa time. How? I’m still trying to figure that out but I think it really helped that we recognized the time change we would be dealing with days before our first flight and slowly adjusting to the time change a few hours every day. The two nights before we left, we got as little sleep as possible so that when we got on our overnight international flight, we would sleep most of the way and be awake and alert when we landed in Egypt the next morning.

As for the culture shock, it was important for us to recognize that fact that we were new to the city and we weren’t used to the lifestyle some people live. I find it much easier to spend the first day settling in, grabbing coffee, speaking with the locals, learning a few key phrases in their language, and wandering around the city aimlessly to acquint yourself to the area. This way, you have no set agenda and do not have the stress of having to find a certain place or be somewhere at a specific time. Half the battle for me was fighting the stress associated with unorganized road traffic, foot traffic, tourist traps and hagglers. This is where I have to remind myself to breathe, find flexability, appreciate the fact that I was able to take vacation time, and accept that this lifestyle works for other cultures. It may take some time to fully embrace the new culture, but the sooner you can stop fighting the abnormality of everything around you, the better off you’ll be. And should this still not work, find a local who can show you around, explain their lifestyle to you and introduce you to some of the magnificant things the culture has to offer.

There are several tourist and non-tourist attractions in Cape Town. One of those attractions is visiting the Penguin Colony at the Boulders in Simon’s Town. I dragged Chris along one morning to make a trip to Cape Point and the Penguin Colony. I was extremely excited to see the penguins because growing up in the mountains, I didn’t exactly get my share of penguin viewing. From Cape Town, we took the R$5 (~US$0.60) train down to Simon’s Town and then walked 30 minutes to the penguins. Thoughts after having seen them? Dirty, domesticated, touristy, and completely overrated. I would instead suggest skipping the Penguin Colony and head straight South to Cape Point. Yes, it’s still touristy, but it’s much more beautiful, educational, and refreshing. Plus there’s a bonus: there are gangs of wild baboons that hang out along the road AND there’s a small chance you’ll see whales and zebras too!

After getting a few of the required visa’s from the Embassies in the US, I only had three blank pages left in my passport. I looked into getting pages added while I was still in San Francisco however it would take 4-6 weeks to get my passport back. If I wanted to “expedite” the service, I could shorten the wait time  to 2-3 weeks and pay $60 USD for a free service! Instead, I decided to wait until I got to a foreign city with a US Embassy or Consulate to get the new pages. I went to the US Consulate in Cape Town and it took 20 minutes to get my pages added. Not only did they have a section reserved for US citizens so I didn’t have to wait in the long line, but also it took a fraction of the time it could have back in the states AND was FREE. I highly encourage any traveller looking to get pages added, to do it at a foreign US Embassy or Consulate.

Chris and I took 8 flights in a row to begin our journey in South Africa. One of the flights left us with a 13 hour layover in Cairo. Chris’ friend Hatem lives in Cairo and kindly picked us up from the airport, took us to lunch, and then back to his place to hang out until we had to be back at the airport to check in for our next flight. While it seems like no time at all, Egypt made a lasting impression on me from the very beginning.

Hatem took us to an amazing traditional Egyptian restaurant where we ordered enough food between four of us to feed a king and his castle. Upon leaving the restaurant, we were trying to back out of a small alley while playing chicken with other cars, pedestrians popping out of nowhere, donkeys pulling watermelon carts, and city buses. We finally made it out of the alley and were driving around a crowded Giza when I realized that there were no stop lights in the city…or street signs for that matter.  To make matters even more stressful, men, women, and children were dodging in and out of traffic with no crosswalks in sight. In Egypt, the driver does not slow down for the pedestrian. The pedestrian slows down for the driver. It must have been perfect timing because as I stared out the window I saw a bus driver stop his bus, grab a crow bar from under his seat and jump out into oncoming traffic chasing down another man. It didn’t take long before he had tackled him to the ground and started beating him with the crow bar. I couldn’t bear to watch, yet some how I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the scene. It looked as though the man being beaten had tried to steal something and was getting punished for it. The country obviously takes stealing very seriously.

On the way to Hatem’s house, we stopped along the side of the road and viewed the pyramids from afar. They were magnificent! After snapping some photos, we drove the final stretch over to Hatem’s house. He introduced us to the rest of his family (his wife, kids, parents, sister, and nephew) and we all sat in the backyard drinking tea and fresh juice. He and his family were lovely. They were extremely hospitable, entertaining, and informative.

Driving back to the airport, 10.5 hours later, Hatem explained that Egyptians do not use headlights at night as they feel it is rude to blind other drivers like that. Additionally, the police do not perform safety checks at night so there were vehicles driving at excess speeds, no headlights, and pedestrians still dodging in and out of traffic. I am used to structured roads and traffic lights. I am used to pedestrian cross walks and donkeys being ridden on back country paths. I am used to seeing crime scenes only on TV.  Cairo opened by eyes to a new way of life. A life that works for the Egyptians. Instead of continuing to fight it, I decided to accept the lifestyle for what it is and find beauty in the chaos. And a beautiful chaos it was. More to come in two months when we spend substantially more time in Egypt…

Needless to say, travelling the world allows us the opportunity to meet several unique individuals from all walks of life at any place and time. Table Mountain was one of those opportunities. Chris and I had passed two Saudi men eating their lunch just meters from the summit. Chris and I did not think about bringing food on our hike so when the Saudi men joined us at the peak, we began speaking with them about how they were smart to have brought food with them. We began talking with them more when one of them offered us his sandwich and a banana. He had packed extra and could see we were hungry. After much resistance, we accepted the food and continued on with our conversation. He asked us where we were from and we told him we were from the US. “Oh, Americans hate us…” was his response. We were shocked. ‘Hate you?’ I thought… What a stereotype. I pondered this for a second and then realized that America has harshly stereotyped much of the Middle East for several years now. Too many Americans blindly and unjustifiably associate terrorist activity with everyone in the Middle East. Chris and I spoke with them about the issue, the misunderstanding, and our plan to learn more about the situation as we trek through the Middle East in a few months.

We ended up hiking down the mountain with them sharing stories with each other along the way. By the end of our day hike, we had learned more about their family, their religion, and their lifestyle than most people know about their neighbours. We exchanged information and have since been in touch. Chris and I will be joining them for traditional Arabic coffee tomorrow. Not surprising, they are two of the most unique, generous, and humble human beings I have ever met.