trying not to drown

Day Eleven
Sure enough, when I showed up soon after six the next morning, the winery gate was open.

photo from the night before because, once again, I left my phone behind

I spent the next hour running the perimeter of the vineyard, circling a pond, and weaving back and forth through the rows. I peered through the wall into the backyards of fancy houses and their tennis courts and manicured gardens. And then I came upon a low walled-off area on the far side of the vineyard. I circled it until I came to the entrance. It was a graveyard, each plot covered with a gently arching concrete pad; the names were Dutch, and the dates were from the 1780s to the 1880s. What was South Africa like for those people? I wondered. How did they experience it?

***

After breakfast, we headed to Muizenburg Beach. Several of the guys were going to go surfing (Muizenburg Beach is supposed to be one of the best spots in the world to learn to surf) and persuaded me to join them. 

^{photo credit: Rene Hostetter}

The three of us newbies went together for a lesson: it was about $30 for an hour and a half lesson, a board, and a wet suit, which is horrible, by the way. Thick, soggy wet, and tight, once I had it on, there was no way to adjust it — the thing snapped onto my skin and wouldn’t budge which immediately made me feel claustrophobic and panicky. I actually had to slow my breathing and give myself a little lecture about not being a wuss and then just keep moving.

^{photo credit: Rene Hostetter}

Our instructor taught us everything on land: the parts of the board, proper foot positioning, how to ride the wave (paddle paddle paddle, feel the wave, paddle paddle paddle STAND UP), and then had us practice several times before letting us even touch the water. 

He also taught us — and this was the very first thing he explained — the meaning of the shark flag.

There was a marine lookout up on the side of the mountain, he said, and if the flag was white, it meant that no sharks had been spotted and the water was clear. A gray flag, the one that was fluttering the whole time we were in the water, mean that no sharks had been spotted but the lookout folks couldn’t see into the water. A red flag meant SHARKS, sirens, and an immediate evacuation. A green flag meant that sharks had been spotted within the last hour but it was safe to be in the water. 

Friends, I am not comfortable in water. Also, surfing is hard. The waves were relentless and big (to me, anyway) and the board, which was strapped to my ankle, was crazy heavy. Surfing, I decided, was like trying not to drown while being chained to a weapon. 

^{photo credit: Rene Hostetter}

I was able to ride the waves in just fine, but I never got to my feet — not even close. I simply didn’t have the upper body strength to do a pushup, immediately tuck my feet under my body and then stand up, all in one smooth motion while zipping along atop a wave. I was, however, able to ride the waves in while kneeling just fine. That was fun.

^{photo credit: Rene Hostetter}

After a half hour or so, my arms were like jelly. I ditched my board and settled for just jumping/diving through the waves . . . until I got a horrible charlie horse in my calf. The instructor was right beside me and held my hand while I breathed through it. But then, while I was still doubled up in pain, I got the exact same charlie horse in the OTHER calf. Unable to straighten either of my legs, there I was, massaging my legs and half-crying all while trying to stay afloat.

As soon as my muscles relaxed enough for my legs to straighten, I swam-limped ashore. The instructor guessed the cramping was due to the cold water, and maybe, I added, because I’d run for an hour that morning. My calves were wicked sore for days.

beachside fish-n-chips

The second part of the day was spent at the V&A Waterfront, a big ol’ mall type-a thing.

South Africa’s four Nobel Peace Prize recipients

That night we stayed in a hotel next to the airport in preparation for the next morning’s early flight back to Jo’burg before we headed off on our next adventure . . . 

Having my Sunday supper in the hotel hallway so I wouldn’t disturb my roomie with my crunching.

. . . safari!!!

This same time, years previous: kale pomegranate salad, monster cookies, two Thanksgiving things.