The journey

Everything we need, right here in the van.

A cliche of the travel journal, and perennial question from those that care for you: 'How was the flight?'

God awful, but temporary.

Can it really be any other way? 30.5 hours on a plane. 6 more in airports.

I suppose there were a few instants worth relating. Like seeing a years worth of luggage fit in the back of the van (on the right).

The Netherlands: a country from the future?

Or seeing that those amazing Dutch put together a library of culture and arts in the airport, accessible through a sleek new iPad. Abraham, of course, was not amused by this. As any eight year old knows, iPads are for video games. Schipol was also a pivotal point in the journey in terms stress. Fatigue and uncertainty overwhelmed, leading to a fierce battle over sitting down to order lunch, or going through the cafeteria line. Thankfully, there is no photographic record of the incident.

Julius Malema, future of the ANC?

I managed to sit next to a white South African University of Cape Town student on the flight south.  I enjoyed talking to him. As usual with South Africans, given time and alcohol, conversation turns to race and politics. His attitudes were harder than I had hoped for, echoing many of the attitudes I remember from 15 years ago. I don't have the energy to even begin to discuss them now. Maybe it's best to present a couple of things he mentioned. First, we talked about Julius Malema, ANC Youth League President. He likes to sing a song called 'Kill the Boer'. He also is an admirer of Robert Mugabe; aspiring to nationalize the farms, gold, and diamond mines.  Then there was Eugène Terre'Blanche, an Afrikaner nationalist hacked to death on his farm earlier this year. The wikipedia pages are more informative than I could be, but both are highly polarizing figures in South Africa, seeking political fortune by fanning the flames of very old bitterness. Both are total bummers, but similar in many ways. Except one is dead and the other may be the future of the ANC.

Cape Town International.

Enough politics. In the end, we made it. How could we do anything but? We'd been imprisoned on flights. On the left, you see us arrive in Cape Town.

Bed, oh sweet bed!

And on the right, see the boys get a long awaited sleep in our apartment, which was waiting ready for us, exactly as planned. Somehow, everything works here.