Vibrant

I wanted to visit a township. Townships were built during the Apartheid era, to separate the blacks from whites. They’re usually described in guidebooks as “vibrant”. I was hooked. I love “vibrant”. Karen was not as convinced. “I just feel weird going on a tour of…poverty,” She had said. She had a point. It would be like going to Watts in an air-conditioned minibus, with an occasional stop for pictures.

Out of the townships surrounding Cape Town, we chose Langa. It's one of the oldest townships in the city. It was also the closest to our hotel. Our guidebook recommended a tour group to contact. I went to the group’s website. There were pictures of happy African children with happy Western tourists. They looked so vibrant. We set up a tour.

Our taxi driver dropped us at the community center in Langa, where our tour guide, Nathi, met us. Nathi showed us around the neighborhood. We walked for two hours. It was early in the morning and the Langans were beginning their day. Parents took their children to school. Old men stood in groups, hanging out. Nathi hugged them all. If he didn’t hug, he gave them a high-five. If he didn't high-five, he trash-talked with them about their soccer teams. I wondered if introverts exist in the townships. Could someone like me, who gets drained after being around groups of two, survive here? Would I just be tired all the time? 

We stepped inside a shabeen. That’s where the local beer is brewed. We sat around a bucket of the homebrew. An old man told us about the beer’s importance to the township. We were invited to partake. Just like this? No beer mugs? No pint glasses? We just drink from the bucket? 

I took a sip. It was sweet going down. Karen took a sip. I waited for her to giggle, but she held strong. I was disappointed. The old man invited us to drink more. I wanted to enjoy the rest of my walking tour without stumbling in a ditch, so I said no.  Several of the locals that joined us in the grabbed the bucket in our place. We left them to continue our tour.

We passed by the houses. Some had bright colors. You could say they were vibrant. Others were just metal shacks. The shacks were on the outskirts of Langa, neighboring a highway. Most of them had satellite dishes on their roofs. “Yeah, they do that so they can watch sports.” I elbowed Karen. “See, even people in shacks have satellite. Why can’t we get it?” She ignored me and we moved on.

We passed by children. They posed for pictures, as if this wasn’t the first time they’ve seen strange people with cameras come by their house. Several of them approached us. Karen noticed shiny pins of the Canadian flag on their shirts. We had seen a tour bus drive past us. The kids must have found them before us. 

We passed by more houses, more children. We stepped inside barber shops and electronics stores. We  arrived at the community center two hours later, seeing as much as the Langans were willing to show us. They showed us, two Americans used to big cities and far away friendships, how they run things. Langa is definitely vibrant. Sometimes I’m envious of their vibrancy. I think how nice it would be to know everyone you meet. I think how nice it would be to have everything you need within walking distance. 

And then I think how tiring that would be. I think about how insular my life has been, and how I’m used to that. I may be attracted to these places when i travel, but right now, I can’t imagine being in such a place and calling it home. In the end, I'm thankful for the Langans. For their warmth, their happiness, their lives. And for their vibrancy.

Our Next Journey

Hi Faithful Travelers!

I know, it's been a long time since our last post. I feel terrible. But the general busyness that comes with married life has gotten in the way. That, and pure laziness on my part.

However, we are excited to share that in December of this year, K and I will be going to the Philippines!

This will be Karen's first time to the Islands. This will be my second, although it's been over 25 years since I last went. That's a quarter of a century.

Over the next few months I'll be posting my thoughts about going back to the Motherland. I also have a few bits from South Africa that I hope to get back to, even though it's been nearly a year since we've been there.

I know I say this often after a long absence, but I hope to get back to blogging more often. For my sake, really.

A Taste of South Africa

The first thing I do when I buy a guidebook to any country is flip to the Eating section. So when I picked up the LP Guidebook to South Africa, and read through their dining choices, I was sad. There were Italian restaurants, sushi bars, a couple Indian spots, and that was it.

Turns out I had been reading the list for the V&A Waterfront. It's been done up recently, and it caters to tourists. We had a couple of meals here. One was at a bistro that I can remember the name of. The other place was some seafood joint named Ocean Basket, which was pretty much South Africa's version of Red Lobster. Or Long John Silver. Or someplace in between.

While reading the list of restaurants under the Bo-Kaap section, the cuisine started to get unfamiliar. Cape Malay? What the heck is that? The short of it is that it refers to an ethnic community in the Western Cape. Prisoners and slaves from Malaysia and its nearest lands (think Java) were brought over, some by the Dutch East Indian Trading Company, and settled down in what later was called Cape Town.

Cape Malay cuisine is a fusion of the Malay and Dutch influence. Our concierge pointed us to Noon Gun Restaurant, atop Signal Hill in Bo-Kaap. The name refers to the Noon Gun that fires at 12pm every day. K and I never heard the gun go off. I was sad about that.



Noon Gun has a charm about it as soon as you step inside. It looks like you just showed up at someone's house for dinner. In a way, you have. Our waitress told us that the owner bought this house years ago, converted the terrace into a restaurant, and Noon Gun was born.

In researching Cape Malay cuisine, I was directed to two dishes: Denningvleis and Bobotie. Denningvleis is a cubed lamb, stewed in a tamarind sauce. But they were out of that, so I went with Bobotie instead.



Bobotie is oven-baked curried beef with a rice and sauce. My first instinct was to equate Cape Malay food to Indian food, because of the abundance of curries on the menu. It took me a while to figure out that Indian dishes don't have beef in them. So they're not the same. Anyway, the Bobotie was fantastic.



This is K's Masala Fish. She liked it as well, although she found the portions rather big. I dunno. I guess I was hungry that night.

After our meal, we chatted more with our waitress, who told us about the history of Noon Gun Restaurant, which was pretty much a history of her family. We never got her name, though. It's a small regret.

I have NO regrets about trying Cape Malay food. Can I get some of that stuff in LA? I can only hope.

The Springboks

On our first morning in Cape Town, I flipped on the TV. A bunch of buff guys in dark green collared shirts with gold trim were talking about Rugby. The South African National Rugby Team, nicknamed The Springboks, were taking on The Wallabies of Australia. It was halftime, and these guys, with their bulging biceps and incredibly thick necks, were giving their analysis, which was essentially, "We're better than these guys. How are we losing?"

Downstairs at our breakfast buffet, the seats were filled with people wearing these same dark green shirts, As were our servers. As were the people at the front desk. Everyone was glued to the TV, yelping with each potential score. The head chef came to our table to go over K's wheat sensitivity, only to dart back to the TV whenever there was a yell. He had a look on his face like he was expecting twins.

As I was digging into my streaky bacon, I no longer heard cheers. Just silence. I looked back at the TV and a tennis match was playing. That was odd, I thought. We asked our server what happened. "We lost." She sighed, cracking a smile. I was sad.


*The Springbok Shirt*

Outside our hotel, the V&A Waterfront was decked out in Springbok colors. Back on the tube, every news program lead with the same story. "Heartbreak in New Zealand as the Springboks have been eliminated." Sportcasters were giving their post-mortems, while still wearing the Springbok shirt. It was like some guy in LA giving the sports report in a Lakers jersey. You can't possibly count on him for objectivity.

The Spirit of the Springboks carried us through our time in Cape Town. And only when I catch the inflight movie on the flight back to the States, "Invictus", did I get it.

The short of the movie is, Mandela is freed, becomes President of South Africa, and sees an opportunity to unite the country through their support of the Springboks during the Rugby World Cup. The people start pulling for the team, slowly putting aside fifty years of racial tension (apparently). The reality is probably more complicated than that, but it's a movie. What do you expect?

I still don't understand rugby, other than it is a predecessor to the football I'm used to watching. But one can never underestimate sport in social context. It can bring people together, across race, economic status, and religion. And that I understand.

New Blog

Same as the old blog....

Since we're married, it's only fair that K contributes to this blog.

Posts and pics on our South Africa trip are coming soon.

The Road To South Africa - Prologue: Back on the Horse

K and I are still going strong after six months of marriage. We're finding our rhythm as a couple. During those six months, the travel bug has come and gone. Now it's back, and it's not going away.

We're going stir crazy. The honeymoon in Belize was the last time we left the country. It feels like longer. Our Japan/Hong Kong trip seems like it was ages ago. My London/Paris/Amsterdam trek seems like it happened in another life.

K and I talked about traveling to Africa before starting a family. While she has been to Rwanda many times for work, K has yet to "vacation" on the continent. I made a stop in Cairo two years ago, but according to K, that doesn't really count as traveling to Africa.

We opted for South Africa; Four nights in the Mother City of Cape Town, and three nights at Kruger National Park. Not a lot of time, but it's still a trip. It's still a cultural experience. It's still traveling.

In a way, it feels like I'm back on the horse. Although that much time hasn't passed, traveling feels different. It's a lot like life. Traveling in my single days meant doing things more on a whim. It meant going all out until my body said no. I listen to my body more closely, and it says "no" more often.

This feels like the start of something new. A new kind of travel; one where I'm spending practically every moment with someone else. It's shared travel. Shared experiences.
I haven't done much planning for South Africa. I figure I'd let the city, and its delights, come to me. Come to us, I should say.

However, in the days leading up to our trip, we've lost whatever rhythm we've attained. We haven't slept well at all. Our free time has been filled doing random things here and there to get ready for our trip. We're tired. And top it all off, my beloved iPhone, trusted friend and companion, went kaput this very morning.

And now we have to wake up before 3am so owe can board a flight to DC, then Jo'Burg, then the Mother City. God help us.

OK, enough talk.

Let's do this.

Around the World in LA: Lagos African Cuisine

This summer I thought it'd be a good idea to try some new restaurants in LA. I've been eating the same foods for a while. Why not try something new?

Recently, I went to a place in Mid-Wilshire called Lagos African Cuisine.




I had looked it up on Yelp, thinking it was called Ngoma. They changed it two years ago, according to our waitress.

The menu is extensive. There's a section of entrees from East Africa, West Africa and Nigeria. We ordered one dish from each region, plus an order of Cassava Chips.



The texture of the Cassava Chips is interesting. I wanted to think of it as eating fries, but that's not accurate.

Here are the three dishes we ordered:



Ugalina Sukuma Wiki. Ugali is like a cornmeal paste, and by itself has no flavor. It's a staple of Eastern and Southern Africa. To get an idea of the ugali's texture, it's similar to grits. Since it has no taste, it's served with the sukuma wiki (kinda like collard greens) and chicken. It all works well together.



Fried plantains and fried yams, served with grilled fish. This was off the Nigerian section of the menu. While the plantains were OK, that fish was tasty.



Poulet Yassa. This is chicken marinated in a lemon sauce, sauteed with vegetables, served with rice. It's a West African dish.

I'm not a food writer at all, so I can't tell you the intricacies of African cuisine. But I do like food. Especially when it's something new. And Lagos was a success! I would go back here to try the other dishes.

Lagos African Cuisine (Formerly Ngoma Restaurant)
5358 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90036

A word on the Yelp reviews: There are two one-star reviews for Lagos, which you can take with many grains of salt. Their Ngoma page has more views and averages 3.5 stars. The food hasn't changed since they renamed themselves. I wouldn't let the one-star reviews sway you.

If you have a favorite African dish or restaurant, please comment! I'd loved to hear about it.