Friday

It had been a long day - I waited for sister most of the day - we are having minor Wendy's-house-was-hit-by-lightning problems. The TV and Alarm and telephone will hopefully be fixed tonight...

It is just after 7 am, and I am once again at sister’s work, outsider her office, at a makeshift desk. I should get paid for all the hours I put in here! I am meeting my accompanist at 9:15, and I have a meeting with the opera company at 10:00, so this was the best way to do things today. Unfortunately, I have not idea at all how to find the accompanist or the State Theatre where the opera rehearses. Sis just called out from her office that a drive her been ordered to take me to the State Theatre at 9:30 – eek, conflicts! I am not sure how to do the timing…
Yesterday I sang in the first round of the competition, and it went extremely well. Not much else happened yesterday – Wendy’s couches got picked up to be recovered, and we went out for Thai after-singing celebration dinner. Not too many adventures, and we will have to make up for that…

Another comment I forgot to mention from Monday’s competitor meeting: The organizers mentioned that there was a doctor if needed and that consultation would be 170Rand, bla bla. One singer’s hand shot up, and she called out that if WE were expected to pay for the Ear Nose and Throat doctor THEY should turn down the air conditioning in the hall. Some singers are just obnoxious.

That night was the opening ceremonies. There were speeches and we were introduced by country, and a local chamber ensemble performed for 30 minutes. Poor local chamber ensemble, they looked so nervous, singing in front of a group of jet-lagged, tired, judging singers.
Afterwards was a reception for the singers and the judges and for members of the diplomatic community. There was no one there officially from the Canadian High Comission, but we met a diplomat from Mexico, and other interesting people. There was one guy – an orthodox chazzan – who had seen my webpage and my Jewish CD online, and who had decided to crash the opening party (he had, apparently, found someone he knew from the Jewish community and begged her to sneak him in with her) so that he could meet me. (!)
I am sure there will be more adventures soon. All of sis’ co-workers keep stopping by to suggest fun things for us to do – Pretoria is apparently really boring compared to the rest of Africa…

***

MORE THINGS I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT AFRICA:

LUBOLO – Lubolo is a custom in the black African tribes, and is like a bride price, but backwards. It is set by the mother and father of the wife-to-be, and is paid for either by the the husband-to-be, or by his parents. The amount depends on how much the bride’s parents like the groom, and by the economic levels of the families. Lubolo has to be paid before the marriage can take place, and there is some kind of ceremony around the exchange of Lubolo.
For example, we met one lady whose daughter wants to get married. She does not like the man she picked, as he does not have a job and does not have many prospects. Instead of forbidding the wedding, she set the Lubolo so high that she hoped he would be unable to pay it. This lady suspects that the man will come to her and bargain about the Lubolo amount, to make it affordable to him. So daughters are a bonus in the culture here, and not a liability. How sweet is THAT?!

NEWSPAPERS – I have mentioned before how they have British-style headlines: (Injured victim kills Robber! Fear Factor Injury!). Newspapers are sold in shoppes but they are also sold by young men on street corners. Since there are daily papers in Zulu, Afrikanaas, and English, finding the correct paper can be a challenge. The annoying thing about buying things on the street corners here is that instead of giving change the vendors beg for more money. For their family, for a cold drink,etc. Which is fine. However, it is not a simple thing to buy a paper, and if one wants change back I imagine one would have to be very forceful. Some headlines from today’s paper: Fear Factor Fury Grows, Prisoners Flee Open Doors (Police were alerted to the escape when witnesses told them the suspects were running away).

FROGS – On the drive home last night we found two different frogs on the road in front of Wendy’s house. Of course when we saw them I shrieked and we had to stop and collect them. The first one was huge and green and dry, the second one was smaller (still pretty big though), brown, and SO slimy. I brought them inside the housed and posed with them, and caught the toad (who had escaped) and then let them go in the yard. I guess this is not something I learned about SA, but it is still interesting. And frog/toad slime doesn’t wash off easily.

BUGS – Though it does not always feel it, I guess it is a sub-tropical climate here, and that means there are buggies. If you drop a piece of carrot on the floor, for example, and then leave the room to let out the dog, upon your return the carrot would be covered with tiny black ants, with a trail of eager ants hurrying to the slice. Also inside sister’s very clean house we have been visited by: mosquito, red ants, other black ants, gecko, moth, grasshopper, beetles, and, or course (by invitation) frogs. I have seen cockroaches, flying ants, and many little bugs I have no name for. There are not swarms, but if I were an authority on bugs I would be simply writhing with excitement.

THE ARTS – Around 9 years ago, the government abruptly halted support to government-funded arts organizations. Overnight, ballerinas, singers, instrumenta musicians, conductors, etc. were on the street with no job and no money. Now in Africa any arts organizations (with a few exceptions) are privately funded, and to receive any government support there has to be 1- a good number of non-afrikanaas africans, and 2- strong African content.

Okay, that is all for now, time to meet sis for lunch

UNISA Competition

THE UNISA COMPETITION

I am at Wendy’s office – we just got back from the UNISA voice competition competitors’ meeting. It is one of the biggest international competitions and there were only 33 competitors chosen from all around the world.

The meeting was actually pretty funny – they went over the rules (here are some funny excerpts):

“No cuts in the music” (someone strenuously objected)

“You are not allowed to sing arias in other keys. You can try, but if a judge has perfect pitch you will be in trouble”

“You are not allowed to leave the stage during your performance. If you leave the stage to get a drink of water you will be disqualified. There is, however a screen on the stage –provided by our sponsor, Vodacom cellular phone – behind which there is a glass of water, and you can take a drink. But please, no backwashing into the cup. That has happened before, and with germs etc. it is not appreciated.”

Wendy put up her had at this point and asked of there was in fact only one cup from which to drink, or might they change the glass between competitors. Now she is everyone’s favourite! Everyone laughed and we were assured that there were separate glasses for the separate people, and a communal bottle. He perhaps should have just suggested: don’t drink from the bottle.

“If on stage you suffer a mental….”
Here he paused for around 15 seconds, and sister and I started to giggle. Oops.

“…lapse, you are not allowed to leave the stage. If you leave the stage you will be disqualified. If you suffer mental problems on stage you can stand there and think and then start you song again and you will not be disqualified, but you cannot leave the stage.”

“Everyone has been given a Vodacom T-shirt, provided by Vodacom, the competition’s official sponsor. (Yes, everyone had indeed been given one. I am certainly not the smallest singer there, and the huge shirts were monstrously baggy even in a Medium. There had been only 5 mediums, and I had managed to snatch one of them) You are expected to wear that shirt at all times if you are not on stage (horrified looks from the overdressed singers).”

Then we had to draw lots. They announced at the beginning of the draw that whoever draw the first position (the time slots were numbered, and we all drew numbers) had to stay afterwards to have their picture taken. As we drew lots the official photographer, and a press photographer took pictures of us as we read our numbers. I drew 7, which is 16:20 tomorrow, and 16:20 Thursday. The girl who drew 14 mis-read it as 1 at first, and when it was announced that there had been an error, there were audible gasps all around, and one singer clutched her heart in the sheer drama of the moment (!). The girl who did draw the first position was not pleased, as, according to her gestured conversation with the organizer, she was not dressed for photographs, and she was wearing no makeup. Very amusing, as long as that wasn’t me.

On the topic of photographs, my official photograph isn’t the best ever – Wendy took it in September during our stopover in London. I desperately needed a colour photograph, and so I threw on a decent shirt and we snapped some photos in the park. It is not as professional as some of the headshots (there is PARK behind it), but sister did a good job. There are certainly some worse headshots up on the wall.

There is more gossip, but as this will be on the internet I am going to behave and not post anything that can come back to get me later….

Tonight is the opening ceremony. All the singers still are all jet-lagged. I am so glad I arrived early! This is the biggest competition I have ever entered, and I have no idea how it will go, but it is certainly going to be interesting… Wish me luck!

These pictures are (in on particular order):

A tiny gekko on my massive finger. (it isn't really that massive...)

Berry picking and the farm near the 'Cradle of Humankin'

Berry-loving monsters

The dog being adorable

The barn restaurant

Sis outside the mall

"Housewives' Corner" at Fruit and Veg city

The Weekend

FRIDAY:

It was a short day at work for Wendy, which was good, because by 1:00 we were both pretty hungry. Wendy knew of a mall close by with a bunch of restaurants, so we ate and the poked around in Woolworth’s (which has the best gourmet food department). We then went to Fruit and Veg city (Everyone says Veg here – very British), which not onl had mounds of cheap fruit and veg, but there is a booth called ‘Housewives’ Helper’ which chops and dices your veg for free. It is all too exciting.

Saturday we decided to go on a drive in the country. Since this is Africa, we figured we would find all sorts of interesting and different things to see and do. We drove towards Johannesburg, and the swung onto a country road. The highways near the cities are toll roads (like the Interstates in America) and so you have to have change handy. If you hand the toll operator a bill and request change, they often say that there is no change, keep the bill, and pocket the difference. Two toll roads later, we were in the countryside. Besides the red soil, it did not look to different from home.


We went through tunnel and over a dam. At either end of the tunnel were vendors selling cell phone plugs and hangars and shoe racks and lychee nuts. We bargained for a huge box of lychees, but as soon as the other vendors noticed that we were not idnoring them or trying to run over them, they swarmed towards the car. Sister is very good at shooing away vendors, I learned.

Our first stop was a touristy African market. It is one of the biggest markets in South Africa, but since we knew we would be going to Zambia and Zimbabwe, where markets are not touristy and the goods are dirt cheap, we did not want to overpay here. We did bargain for one adorable beaded necklace, and it was funny to hear the same lines: “looking is free” etc. that we have heard in Trinidad, Dominica, Italy, Israel, Egypt…. small world! When one stops at this sort of market (or a restaurant in Pretoria, or even Friut and Veg city) there is an unofficial guard who is paid to watch the cars, and who expects a tip. It is not a lot of money, and it is good to know that the car is safe, but it is really annoying to have to always pay.

We passed a sign for a croc breeding farm, and a few game parks. The game parks looked interesting, and at the next sign we turned off the highway.

Big mistake. I don’t know if there was a game park, but after driving 20 minutes on a rutted red-clay path, we decided to use the facilities (tall weeds – after a close look for snakes) and turn around. Wendy put her new silver car into reverse, and…

…crunch! We had hit something, but what? We both got out, and partway under the car was a 10-inch high concrete cone with long rusty nails sticking up out of it. On this road of clay and grass we had found the one obstacle. The problem was how to get off the concrete without gouging the underside of the car further. I used my hand to break off some of the rusted nails, until I remembered I had shunned the idea of a tetanus shot back in Canada. We used a stick to bend nails and scrape off some of the broken concrete, and then we just gritted our teeth and backed off the thing. What a pain! We hurried back to the highway and retraced out path, through the city of Brits, to more interesting countryside.

On earlier drives, Wendy had passed a number of adorable farms which had little restaurants, and so we searched until we found one. The restaurant was a barn, and we ate outside at a table under a tree. The other diners (a British cyclist, a British pilot and his wife, who had just come down from a plane) were really friendly when they heard that I was a singer and was in South Africa for the UNISA competition. The owner of the restaurant gave be a big ‘good luck’ hug. The pizza I ate was cooked in a stone oven. The restaurant had been open only two weeks, and it was the perfect place to stop.

By that time, sis and I were tired of driving and wanted to so a more physical activity, so we drove back on the road until we came to a sign that said: Berry Picking! Hurrah! We spent the next hour on an Afrikanaas farm, next to the ‘cradle of humanity’ (where scientists thing human life first evolved), picking blackberries and raspberries. The patches were full of chickens and wild birds, and little dogs, and wasps and other buzzing things, but they did not seem to mind us picking their berries.

I drove back to the city (practice for Monday, when I had to drive to the UNISA campus and drive Wendy to work) and we spent the evening eating berries.

SUNDAY

We slept in until 8!! Every other morning we have woken up at 6, so this was quite a feat. Since the sun comes up at 4 in the morning, 6 feels like midday, almost, with just a bit of the dawn stillness.

At 11 I had a rehearsal with my pianist, which was conveniently only a few blocks from the Canadian High Commission. Afterwards we went to a darling little restaurant for lunch, then decided to get manicures (like picking raspberries, it seemed like a very African activity). We drove to Brooklyn mall (not unlike the mall IN Brooklyn, NY) which unfortunately was mostly closed (on Sundays stores in the mall are open from 9-2). Woolworths was open, though, and we bought some interesting food – chickpea burgers and fondue-melty cheese.

Driving back through Silver Lakes (sister’s neighbourhood/golf community) there were live-in domestics being visited by their children and having picnics on the side-lawns of many of the houses. More about SL later.

MONDAY

I drove! All the way back from the high commission, onto the highway, and around TWO traffic circles and into Silver Lakes. Sure, I got in the visitors’ lane at SL and they didn’t want to let me in, and I almost missed the turn-off to the highway and had to back onto the sidewalk to turn around, but I drove. Now I am freeeee, and can get anywhere!

Sis and I left for her work at 6:40am, which was about 15 minutes too late to avoid the morning traffic. Driving out of SL in the morning there is plenty to see. The day-workers are walking into the community from the township across the field. There are a couple of hundred black African men. [For the purposes of this, in African there live 1- black Africans (who are either one of the 11 tribes of S-A, the largest being Zulu, or illegals from Zimbabwe, Ethopia or Mozambique), 2- Africanaas, or white Africans of Dutch origin 3- British Africans 4- Indians from India] near the entrance, waiting in the hope that they are offered casual work for the day. There is a man (employed by Silver Lakes) directing traffic, to ensure that SL residents do not have to wait to turn onto the highway (because of course they are the most important!). There is a man selling newspapers in English and Afrikanaas to people in the cars. There is a wooden box where a makeshift store sells loaves of bread and bananas to the waiting workers.

The drive in took forever, but there was no traffic leaving Pretoria, and I zipped back to SL. Now I have to drive BACK to Pretoria, to the pianist’s house. Eek.



I got lost in a field. I got lost on the highway. Still, I did it!

Driving to the High Comission from the accompanist’s house I followed the landmarks:

-Crazy dancing Afrikanaas man, who always stands at the same street corner, dancing amid the traffic.
-Huge which reads “Jesus Saves”. Well, he saved me from getting lost today, anyway! (for about three seconds)
-BMW dealership

…and ended up back on t highway heading to Silver Lakes. Darn!!!

Finally, now I am safe at the high commission, waiting for sis to finish her interviews. I don’t think that laptops are allowed inside the HC, so I am trying to type really quietly, and to blend in with the refugee applicants waiting for interviews (you can guess how much I am blending in…)

Since I have nowhere to go and there is no chance of my getting behind that wheel without a mapped-out destination, I will try to use up the 20 mins I have to wait for Wendy by making a list:

INTRESETING SOUTH AFRICA TIDBITS

1- Streetlights are called ‘Robots’. There are signs reading: Robot ahead. Too funny.
2- Morning radio is beyond weird. This morning the on-air conversations ranged from:

-How the reason we do not sleep with your family members is how they give off a smell which is distasteful to us, and how Madonna in tights must give off that smell to anyone in her vicinity (!)

-How missing-persons reports are being photoshopped so that the photographs are more attractive

-How mean girls are in dorm rooms. How they put your toothbrush in the toilet, invite you to imaginary parties, and bake dog doo in your pie.
3- Doors open backwards, and, for the most part, are opened by heavy metal keys, like in Sherlock-Holmes-London time.

4- Books are ridiculously expensive – from $20-30 Canadian

5- They say ‘Veg’. I think I have mentioned that earlier, and I know that Brits do it too, but really, it sounds funny every time I hear it.

6- Some people (I think it is the native Zulu speakers) roll their Rs. It is gorgeous and sounds so elegant. I wish I could do it, but I just sound like a fool.

***

While I have been sitting here an older man came in to ask for the address of a Canadian who was mentioned in the paper. Of course the consulate did not give it out. They probably did not even have it. He left unsatisfied. I suspect the family sitting beside me is my sister’s refugee case. I wish *I* could do interviews…

I don’t want to keep mentioning race, because I don’t care about it myself, but it is really a huge issue here. I am going to read up on apartheid today so I can understand things better, but basically there are:

-The Afrikanaas (white). Of Dutch background (but do not like to be called Dutch). Historically, they were primarily farmers and they remind me of the people in southern Alberta. That is about 10% of the population.

-The Black Africans. Called blacks here. They were the ones discriminated against during apartheid. They belong to one of 11 tribes and each has a separate languages. Zulu is the largest tribe, and the most widely spoken language. Back in the day, under apartheid, they were not allowed to live in the cities, but were brought in from Townships (the most well-known of which is called SoWeTa – South West Township) on the outskirts of cities. 14 years ago these people could not ride the same buses or shop in the same stores as the ‘whites’. Things here have come a long way in 14 years, but still the menial jobs are all done by Black Africans L

-The Diplomats. Pretoria is a Diplomatic city, with over 30 embassies. The main perk of being a diplomat here is being able to buy gas at the Diplomatic gas station, which offers gas (which is quite expensive here) tax-free. Sis and I went on Friday to buy gas, but they were all out of gas. Wendy asked the gas jockeys (who were lounging around in the shade, as here was no gas to pump) when t gas would arrive. They answered that it would arrive the next day. She asked what time they opened, so we could hurry and get some gas before it was all gone again. They replied that they were here 24 hours to serve their customers (serve them with WHAT?! There was no gas and that was all they sold?!) and that the gas would be there ‘with the sun’. Although we arrived there a few hours later than the sun on Saturday, we were greeted with arms flung skyward and excuses about how it should have arrived and didn’t. If I was only a diplomat and received such specialized treatment!
Hmm, still waiting. Visa applicants come and go. Wendy’s assistant just came out and told me that Wendy is finished her interview, and may have one more. We have fresh berries for lunch, and then I have to find an internet café and put this online

Shopping mall in Pretoria

My sister is almost done work - hurrah, freedom for us both! I came here to go to a meeting with the opera company, which I was informed ws cancelled due to an 'opera emergency'. Far be it from me to presume to guess what constitutes an 'Opera Emergency,' but it was fun seeing my sis even if the morening was kind of useless.

I didn't want to stay at her house today, since the maid was coming and that is always so awkward, sitting and reading while a maid toils in front of me. Sigh.

Soo.. I went to the mall! It is really close to the High Comission, and it is clean and modern. I bought curry mix and lychee juice and looked at the clothes (SO cheap, but kind of flimsy). There was even a McDonald's.

Oops, it is time to leave... time for more adventures (and curry~)

Yet more photos

A few more pictures - there will be so many, and I do want to share them when I return home also, but I what is the point of a digi-camera if I can't share things NOW?

-sis and her mutt excited at the arrival of low-fat jello!

-me at the lion park, with my special birthday drink (lemon juioce mixed with passionfruit cordial) We had asked him to decorate it in a birthday theme, so there is a huge wegde of green apple on it, with a marishino cherry on each side, a green umbrella, and the straw paper twisted in a curl around the straw. Also not the TAB on the table. Remember TAB? Like coke but tres retro!

-sis at the lion lodge with all the presents she had gotten for me

-sis and I getting kisses fron a cheetah. We noticed afterwards that the cheetah had just dined on a dead, rotting bird. Which meant that our hands were now potentially festering germbeds. Ew! The cheetah-kisses were adorable, though.

-My seat at the very front of the car. See how fun/terrifying it was?

-me playing 'chase-me-I-am-injured" with the lions.

More later!

Some more pictures

Back at sister's work, though todayis a short day. I had a meeting with the cultural liason officer yester afternoon, and got some more information about the upcoming concerts. The one in Zimbabwe is actually going to happen, which is tres exciting.

Then sis and I drove around a bit, and went back to her house to eat and walk her dog and house-watch. There are an unreadonable amount of ugly mansions in her area - some of them are square, with square pillars, some of them have obnoxious stained glass windows, and some even have roofs made from grass - and a grass roof does not look quaint on a 3-level brick mansion!

I am just adding some pictures before I have to get off of this computer: These are of the Sahara desert, as seen from the aeroplane. I adore the one where there is the tiny settlement, a giant sand dune, and then.... nothing!

There is also a picture of Kefira, Wendy's dog, who is now all leggy and adorable. She really likes trolls.

Also a few more from the lion day -

The trip started out on a bit of a panicked note – mum and I were slightly late driving to the airport, since flying to Africa via Chicago entailed pre-clearing US customs in Edmonton.

In the past there has been trouble with that. Once in Toronto my grandmother had given me a grapefruit to munch on the airplane (though how a gal can munch on that particular piece of fruit without cutlery is beyond me.) Apparently citrus is not welcome through customs. Never mind that we were still in the Toronto airport. Never mind that this brand of grapefruit had originated in Florida, and that I assured the office that by the time the airplane reached American skies the grapefruit would be in my stomach and not infecting precious American soil. I was hauled to a private room and given The Lecture (defrauding customs, bla bla.. it was not even an apt lecture, as I was openly displaying the grapefruit)

There had even been problems in the Edmonton Airport. Two years ago I had been returning to school in New York, and the school had neglected to list me as a returning student. I was told to sit in a chair and not allowed to leave (or to speak to my mum, who was waiting back on the Canadian side of the door) for hours. I could not even go to the bathroom unattended. Of course, it was a Sunday and no-one answered from my school. Finally I was rebooked on the next day’s flight and permitted to go through the door which led back to Canada.

America can be very annoying sometimes.

Still, I did not figure there would be any trouble, as I was only passing through Chicago for a couple of hours. But guess what….

…I could not even GET to Chicago. My flight was cancelled. There had been fog the night before, and although the conditions had cleared, they had cancelled the flight. They were willing to re-book me on a later flight, but then I would miss the connecting one to Amsterdam, and then the connecting flight to Jo’Burg.

A very stressful hour followed. As my second flight was on NWA/KLM and the first one was on United/Air Canada and since they had not been ticketed together (blame the travel agent, not me) the Air Canada people said that it was frankly not their problem that I had to get to Amsterdam.

The NWA people said that they could not do anything, as the first ticket would not show up on their system. Mum and I ran forth and back and back and forth, from one counter to another. The news was good: “We can print you an invol ticket and reroute you on NWA” and then bad again: “Your ticket was NOT an online ticket.” Really, the whole thing is best described by my mum:

It was a nightmare when we got to the airport. We left the house at4:30. At the airport, Melanie still had some things to put into her 2suitcases. And a tripod in a case and a big blue bunny and her red backpack - full- and a rolling carryon case and a MEC shoulder bag (half backpack) tocount as a purse. At least she knew where her passport was.I dropped her off and parked the car.

When I got into the terminal, shetold me that her flight to Chicago was cancelled because of fog and thatUnited Airlines was trying to find her another flight. Actually, the airplane hadn't been able to LEAVE Chicago because of fog, so the plane hadn't arrived in Edmonton yet. The next flight would have arrived backin Chicago after Melanie's KLM flight would have left for Amsterdam.The agent asked Melanie for her itinerary. Melanie had printed it outbut had figured that she didn't need it and had left it at home. Theycouldn't find her on the computer. Plus, there was no record of her connecting flight to Amsterdam.

We called home. Andrew read Melanie her itineraryand Melanie scribbled it down. That didn't help the agent. She stillcouldn't find her. Then she said that Melanie's must have been issued twotickets - one to get her to Chicago and the other to get her from Chicago toAmsterdam and Jo-burg. They couldn't find the reocrd of her tickets. Meanwhile,my cellphone gave a funny beep - I checked the screen and it said I had atext message. I checked the text message and Andrew had sent us Melanie'sflight information!!!Sweet kid!! That was so helpful! We showed it to the agent. Shechecked and discovered that Melanie was listed on the flight but that there werestill problems. We called the agent in South Africa. The agent who didthe booking wasn't in. Another one checked Melanie's file and confirmed tothe agent that it was two flight bookings, not one continuous flight. That meant that Melanie would have to get her bags in Chicago and get herselfand her bags to the KLM counter. If it had been one ticket then the bagswould have gone through to Jo-burg.We kept trying to figure other ways for the airline to get Melanie to aKLM flight that would get her to Amsterdam in time for her to make the connecting flight to S.A. Then United told us that because it wasbooked as two tickets, all they had to do was get her on a flight to Chicago andtheir job was done. The rest of her itinerary was KLM's problem.

We went down and talked to the Northwestern Airlines desks to see whenand where their flights landed. They are an affiliate of KLM airlines. Theclock was ticking. People were tryig to be helpful but nothing wasreally happening. Then the Northwestern agent had a brilliant idea. She toldus to go back to the United counter and have them issue Melanie a "invol" ticket.... an involuntary cancellation ticket....In other words,Melanie's ticket was cancelled involuntarily by the airlines and so she could takethe voucher to another airline if they agreed to honour it. Northwesternhad a flight for Chicago that left at 8 am - Melanie would be able to make herKLM flight. And....the agent would put it through as a single ticket soMelanie would have to get her bags - they would go through all the way toJo-burg!So back Melanie went to the United counter and the agents agreed toissue her an invol ticket. But they didn't know how to do it. They called someone else over. She would do it, but she had to log in and thenfinish helping another customer (everyone had problems because of the cancelledChicago flight).

This took forever..they assured me that they could doit - they had to look after someone rrying to get on a 7:30 flight.Melanie's new flight was at 8. We went back to Northwestern and told them thatUnited was going to do this for Melanie - when they could get to it.A few minutes later I went back to United and two agents were sittingthere with a printed out manual about how to solve some problem - how to issuean invol ticket.. They were following step by step but for some reason it wasn't working. They kept asking us for Melanie's itinerary. I wouldshow them the text message on the cell phone. They would take it, typesomething in their computer .... finally, they realized the problem...the travelagent booked Melanie not with an e-ticket, but was supposed to send her apaper ticket. Then there was a panic. The clock was ticking. They couldn't issue an invol ticket without Melanie's paper ticket. She didn't have apaper ticket. So then they couldn't seem to get a paper ticket toprint. They checked the text message again and realized that Melanie had beengiven an Air Canada flight number for the United flight to Chicago. (Unitedand Air Canada are affiliates).

Picture yet another agent running throught airport to go to the otherend of the new terminal where the Air Canada counters were. They couldn't findMelanie in the Air Canada computers. I found the agent and told herthat Melanie had 6 minutes before Northwestern was going to close theircounter and she would miss getting on the flight. The agent was trying her bestto communicate with someone on the phone while someone else fiddled on the computer. She promised she would RUN the ticket down to the other endwhen she got it.Meanwhile, Melanie squished the extras into her bags, got her bagsweighed and once again, I had to shw the Northwester agent the text message thatAndrew sent. The paper ticket and invol ticket finally arrived (as wellas a paper ticket for the return Chicago-Edmonton flight) and theNorthwestern agent completed Melanie's new booking. She printed out an intineraryfor us and for Melanie and Melanie and I hugged good-bye - briefly!

There was an RCMP agent waiting to close the flight. I told Melanie Iwould wait 10 minutes in case there were any problems. I figured theywouldn't let her own with all her carryons. I waited 15 minutes. Then I figuredit was safe to go home. It had taken over 2 1/2 hours of standing andpacing and running (literally) from counter to counter.


I RAN through customs. I RAN through security (as I was the last one through I had 10 people to screen my bags – so much attention!). I RAN though the door into the boarding lounge….

….and then waited for almost an hour. Delayed! Why had they neglected to mention this at the desk? Still, it was such a relief to be going to…

…Minneapolis?! Wait a minute…

I ran up to the counter and was assured that I would be going to Chicago VIA Minneapolis and not to worry (I am sure I looked properly harried at that point)

2 hours to Minneapolis. Just enough time to grab some ice cream and a pizza (it smelled so New York-ish, I couldn’t resist!) and then on to the plane to Chicago. 1 hour to Chicago. Now, IN Chicago, I had been told, I would not have to leave security. I would just have to follow the transfer signs to my new gate. Not so! I followed the transfer signs out past security to the monorail. On the monorail from terminal 2 to terminal 5, and right up to the check-in desk, where they weighed my carry-on bags and said that something would have to be left behind.

Not a chance. I told them that they had approved my carry-on 2 airports and 4 hours ago, but she said that they had different rules here. After some (polite!) objections she agreed to let me check a bag for free. That was fine, less to carry. So I packed one bag with soft clothes and dollies (going to Africa for poor kids) and sent it off. I thought things would be easier with one less bag.

At the security checkpoint I put through my bags and removed my video camera. And my shoes. The security guard looked at the shoes (they were really fuzzy pink slippers) and told me I could put them back on, so I went through the metal detector, and though I didn’t beep I was still ushered to the GLASS CUBICLE for the pat-down.

As they paged the special woman patter-downer, I enquired as to the reason I was (as usual) selected. The response was that I had chosen to wear my boots. I objected that I had in fact removed them and that they could certainly put them through the metal detector.

“Of course we will be putting them through for further scanning” was the response. “And once you are in the cubicle you have to receive the pat-down. And keep an eye on your camera (sitting unattended on a table on the other side of the glass). There have been a lot of robberies from here” (!!!)

I was not sorry to leave Chicago and America. I hoped that Amsterdam Schipol airport would be better. The flight was only 6 hours, and as the second day of travel slowly dawned, we landed in Europe.

This airport was fun! There was a McDonalds and a museum and stores conveniently labeled “Shoes” and “Electronics” and “Holland Gifts” and “Flowers” and “Cheese.” I strolled around the museum and had a breakfast happy meal (Mc Donald’s is cheap an familiar overseas, though I never eat it at home). I bought a little wooden tulip and some museum postcards, then had to go back to the flower shop – they had given me some Turkish currency as change – it looked a lot like a 2-Euro piece but it was not. There was luckily not a problem getting my 2 Euros. Soon however it was time to board the plane and I was on the way (10.5 HOURS!) to Africa.

My seat was on an aisle (sadly not a bulkhead, though I had certainly showed up early enough to request one) and the movies were decent. There was a fantastic view of the Sahara desert, and I took way too many (over 130!) pictures of the shifting desert.



I have been spending this morning as a woman of leisure. I was so busy back in Canada getting ready to sing and then to leave that I had not thought through what being thrust into a summer environment would entail. It is hot here. Everyone (the only girl I have seen yet is Wendy, but as she has historically been pretty fashion-savvy I am taking her as an example of the general population) is wearing tanktops and short skirts and flip-flops. Legs, toenails… I had to find the nail polish and the razor and summerize myself.

Wendy’s gardeners just left – the owner of the business and his two employees. He was originally from Manchester, came here for a visit 22 years ago and just never left. He is typically Manchester – broad accent, blue eyes and freckles, and a painful-looking sunburn (forgive my generalization, but even in late fall in Germany, the guys I had met from Manchester have been sunburnt. Does that city exist under a thick UV-blocking cloud??) He thought I was 21, so I liked him immediately.

Here is what I learned from the British gardener: The 2-inch long spikes on the pretty tree right outside the patio can pierce even sneakers in their quest for tender foot-flesh, and even when removed, the tip remains ensconsed in foot-flesh and has the tendency to go septic. I was barefoot at the time, but am NOT barefoot now.

I also learned how to get banned from golf courses in South Africa (overturning a golf cart while driving it drunk) and how to escape police custody in ___ (claim you need to return to your hotel to get your passport and then to simply flee the country).

I offered the hard-working gardeners water, and he answered for me, saying that no, no they were fine, but he would like some coffee please. I told him he was welcome to it if he would make it, as I have no idea how to make coffee (I really don’t, and, quite frankly, I have little desire to learn. It is like being a spoiled heiress who has never pumped gas. I feel that this ignorance makes me a classier and more intreaguing person. Right?) The Brit told me that this coffee was no good, and so we had tea instead. He lectured me thoroughly on how to brew a proper cup (“I bet in CANADA you add milk before you put the tea in the cup. No, no” – I did not have the heart to contradict him).

We sat on the patio and oversaw the labourers. In his opinion Wendy’s dog is a ‘pavement dog’ – her mother sat on the pavement and took love from whatever came along. Ouch! (The dog loves him though, and he didn’t even get mad when she smacked his abcessed tooth with her paw.) Also in his opinion (not MINE!), a white person is needed to make sure the work gets done. I could not believe he said that, and in front of the workers. How does a girl respond to that? I think this is going to be a really strange place…

The exhaustion started to kick in finally. I lay on the hammock but it was full of ants, so I moved to the couch and waited for Wendy to arrive home.


When she did come home we had to rush rush rush to get in her car. She wuld not say where we were going, and after driving only 3 minutes we turned off the road into the…
…LION PARK. Hurrah! We were going on a Lion Hunt! (sort of).

There was this great lionmobile with benches for everyone and with one seat right at the front. The FRONT, in front of the car… like one of those BMW hood ornaments, but it was me. Wendy told the lion man that it was my birthday and guess WHO got the great seat? (me me me!)

Actually, the seat was pretty scary. Had I tumbled off I would have been crushed by the lionmobile, and there was no seatbelt and no real handholds. Also being at the very front I could see all of the ruts ahead, and brace myself to bounce around.

The lions were adorable, with big cages. At one point the tour leader told a mother to put down her toddler and let him run to the tree across the way. She had not heard the explanation about how lions will not chase adults but WILL chase the injured or the elderly or children. The little boy started to run, and immediately the lionesses (who had been lounging idly in the sun) perked up their ears, and started to chase the little boy, much to the horror of his mother (and to our amusement).

Of course, Wendy and I, not to let someone else be the centre of attention, adopted obvious limps and started to run alongside the cages. The lionesses thought that this was great fun, and chased us as we limped.

We also saw cheetahs (who licked our hands with rough tongues), tigers, Wildabeasts and giraffes, impalas and gazelles.

Afterwards we had drinks on the lawn, and when the restaurant opened we had delicious beefy-beef. What a fun day!

My sister gave me some great presents: A bracelet of wooden beads, a cotton skirt, and best of all, a card with 5 rolled-up 20-rand (5$ Canadian) bills, with a message saying that they were for me to give away to poor people. What a sister I have!

Right now I am at the office. It has been the most boring morning ever, but any minute we are going for lunch. It is actually pretty interesting watching my sister work, but it is a beautiful day and every minute in an office is like an arrow to the heart! I want to see Africa! The airport didn’t count, and the mini-safari was fantastic. On the road today were trucks with 10 passengers stuffed in the back. There were English and Afrikanaas newspapers being sold (with headlines like: “Row over Breakfast Cereals”), and dozens of workers lined up outside of Wendy’s complex in the hopes of being offered casual employment. Inside the complex ladies were picking up their maids in golf carts, and other golf carts were filled with clubs and actual golfers, heading in the direction of the course.

That is all the Africa I have seen, but it has just been one day. Still, that is more Africa than ever I thought I would see. I didn’t do that badly packing for this trip, though I forgot my all-purpose black pants and a certain pair of sandals, and brought some office keys which needed to be left behind. I also forgot the piece of birthday cake I had been planning to eat on the airplane. Oops!

Time for lunch!

...Another Adventure

So, it has been a few months since I left Europe. I gained lots of experiences and lost my retainer (!), my memory card, and around $300. I will never scoff a waist-pouch again. Or I will just be a hypocrite and STILL scoff waist-pouches (since they truly are horiffic) and just wear one secretly. I did not want to continue this once I returned home, because it is
1- Way too addictive, and
2- WAY too dangerous. The temptation to write things that the world does not really need to know forever is ever present.

However, luckily for me, I can start blogging (see, I even remembered the lingo) again, as I am leaving in two weeks for South Africa.

Yes, South AFRICA. Where the Elephants and lions dwell. Also where my sister dwells, so I am going to stay for a couple of months and have more adventures.
It is actually just a happy coincidence that my sis lives there - I am going to sing in the UNISA voice competition. Actually, I am being flown to South Africa to sing in the UNISA voice competition. I am also doing a bunch of other concerts while I am there. It will be an interesting time, though I am have so much to do before I go.

First thing I have to plan is what to bring for sister. She has given me a list of requests, and I, as a good older sister, am doing my best to comply. Thus far, I have for her: (she won't be reading this yet)

-4 pairs of cute La Senza Underwear
-Ionic Hair Straightner
-2 pairs of work pants
-1 Breezy summer skirt
-2 work sweaters
-6 boxes of Jello
-4 boxes of Jello Pudding
-4 boxes of Chai Tea Latte Mix
-Crystal serving plate

Still to get are:
-A million boxes of Crystal Light
-Hair straightening heat-protection goo
-Other hair products
-sleeveless work sweater (or 3)
-Cool-whip mix

She may not appreciate this list being posted forever, but I think it is a ogod list, so too bad.

After 3 months of working humiliating and demeaning jobs, it is time to be off again. The life of an artist involves the worst kinds of intrum employment. In the three months I have been back, I have worked:

In an architect's office. The office was wonderful. The people were very nice. (though being asked patronizingly by a 21-year-old desig intern if I was still in high school and if I wanted to be an architect one day (when I grew up) was HUMILIATING) The work involved photocopying for 8.5 hours, and whenever enyone else needed to use the machine, I had to step aside and re-program it. Boring, however it was an honest day's work. Still, at the end of one day, when I had spent the entire DAY copying, then scanning, then electronically compiling a manual, only to be told that the person had just decided to order on and that it hadn't been necessary after all... that was it. Being paid for a job is good. Spending time doing something mundane *and* unneccessary is not good.

Selling orchestra tickets - um, - over the phone. The office was cold. And surrpunded my ladies of the night and their grim-looking pimp. The work paid well, however there were a lot of people who simply did not appreciate (understandably!) being disturbed during supper/bedtime/anytime. The co-workers for the most part were as dumb as paint. As paint is not conscious, one can safely assume that they were pretty stupid. Talk would centre around how one girl used to steal money from Johns pretending to be a prostitute, how another stold money from her Student Loan by falsly claiming she was a student and was upset because she could not get another loan. The one person who was not THAT stupid was a comparitive-literature PHD student who would twin random academic-sounding phrasiological constructs with the purpose of confounding whichever mundane peon who might happen to be in the aural rance of his linguistic gyrations. At least it was funny. Still, the job was boring and cold and repetitive.

Until I leave town I am working as an intrium office manager for a charitable organization. There is not a lot to do and I don't have to come in too much, so it is not a bad job.

Those jobs were just to feed the student loan beast. Musically things are going very well. South Africa, of course. Also I shall be singing in Salzburg this summer, and there are some other plans in the works...

However, this blog shall have to be mostly about travelling, since being specific is just too tempting, and I don't think that publically displaying the minutea of my daily affairs will benefit me.

Tonight the goal is to memorize the words to the last two arias before I coach them tomorrow. Also to pack as much as I can.

Oh, and the best part about going back to Salzburg is that I can make a side trip to HUNGARY. Hoorah!