Panic. Pasta. Perfection

So tonight I was asked my host family to cook, we were all kind of expected to do it but I just never really said anything about it, but thank the lord they asked me yesterday if I was ever going to cook cause MAN WAS IT FUN AND DELICIOUS!

After much stipulation on what in the world to make, with limited oven space, very little parmesean cheese in the country and only an hour, I settled on the Goldstein classic Pasta al Forno. If you've ever been over for dinner chances are you've had this, its short pasta mixed with sauce with mini meatballs and cheese baked in the oven until ooey, gooey and crunchy on top (burnt if Bess or Brett have a say in it). After running around all day, finding an organic, imported goods grocery store by the chance of god, and spending at least 3 times more than anyone else on this trip, I had all necessary ingredients and was ready to cook! Got home at 6:15, later than I would have liked but Simba decided to fill us in- for the first time ever- on what we are gonna be doing for the next few weeks, which I will fill you in on later, jeez just give me a second! And so I was off to a late start. I started with making the sauce, and putting water on to boil. Literally the water took the amount of time to chop everything, make the sauce and meatballs, before it boiled. An eternity! Eventually it began bubbling and I threw the pasta in. As this was happening on the stove, my two helpers Linathi and another sisi were busy on the chocolate covered strawberries.

You're thinking "Woah Great pic Bren!
You should be a photographer" Well, nope. Can you believe my sisi tooks this....she is 6.

I know, kind of a cop out dessert, especially for me, but I was already using the oven for the pasta and they were beautiful and delicious so shut it (they also don't really grow strawberries here, so they were imported from Spain and fucking expensive BUT DELICIOUS! well worth it....I promise dad).

So they made those, I stirred the pasta and the sauce. Threw some olive oil and garlic in a pan for the cauliflower, which the girls helped me turn from ball to mini pieces and- one hour of running around like a mouse cleaning up and mixing and grating cheese and watching the girls steal chocolate off the strawberries and being asked 100 times what I was making by everyone in the house and almost dropping the entire pan of cauliflower and not knowing how to turn the oven to broil or what the fuck 400 degrees is in Celsius- and ka baam! Dinner was on the table! And when I say table, I mean I hand delivered plates to everyone in their rooms cause that is just how it's done here on ol' Zone 7 number 29.

All in all had a total blast cooking with the girls, turned out delicious and was awesome to eat something almost identical to what I remember from home. Italy would have been proud of me tonight.

best friends...(excuse my sweat as it was the work out of my life)

did I get around to study for my xhosa test tomorrow....oops.....

Robben Island

This past Saturday was field trip day for us SIT students, so at 10am I was retrieved by my favorite bus taken to the Langa visitors center for a "walk about" and then off to Robben Island- although at this point that was still tentative because it was raining. Although bummed to be missing the Biscuit Mill, I was really excited for Robben Island.

The walk about was kind of weird, I mean I get the point of it as showing us how toursits and other school groups see Langa as a township to "ooh, ahh and wow" over, but it just took away all the personality and community-ness I have seen living there and turned it into a museum. We walked around the dirtiest parts I have seen thus far and were bombarded with small children asking us for money and hugging us. Although adorable I was on the verge of tears watching these little children hug my leg and tug at my bag. It was interesting, but definetly uncomfortable and I now get why people think what they think of townships after a 30-minute tour interacting with no locals, hearing no stories, etc.

Late as usual, classic Africa time, we then rushed to the ferry station, grabbed sandwiches (although nothing is quick in a 24 person group), boarded the boat and set on the ride. My nausea quickly set in and going 100,000 miles an hour was not helping anyones stomach. We met our tour guide and proceeding on the walking tour, there is also a bus option, of the island. Our guide, Tulani, had served at the prison for 8 years and was truly incredible. He shared amazing stories with us, everything from how he was the best soccer player on the island, they had saturday games to horrifying tales of the torture of the guards. One story in particular was so chilling and got him so upset he had to leave the room, could not finish and left an impression on all of us that I will never forget. He told us of the day his father came to visit him and how excited he was, because visitors were only allowed every six months. He got a phone call to his cell, in which 12 men slept on mats, with no heat, saying his dad was not coming. His father had come to the island, was shot six times and died there. Tulani has suffered so much in the rooms he walks through every day as a guide. I found myself continuously wondering why he does this as a profession, he was released in 1990 and returned as a guide. He told us at the end that he does this to share the stories so that future generations will never suffer what they suffered. His stories were honest, beautiful and sadder than I could have ever anticipated. 

I was deeply affected by him and found myself so sad on the bus ride that followed the walking tour around this huge island, which is one of the most beautiful places in the world. It is also one of only two places in the world where you can see one wonder of the world from another, being able to have 360 views of Table Mountain (see below). Table Mountain is the only one, where you have an overview shot of Robben Island, cool fun fact I thought!

I was not expecting how sad this excursion would be and was just blown away by being in the cells and courtyards that so many prisoners were held in for standing up for themselves. Tulani is a brave and confidant man beyond words. 

Tualni showing us a picture of Nelson Mandela and Walter Sisalu talking while incarcerated at Robben Island

As for the boat ride back, got to sit up top this time cause the rain had past. Much less nausea this time, however MUCH more wind. To the extent that we could not really stand without using all of our body strength to hold ourselves up. 

I managed to stand up for one picture, clearly a failure or the most hilarious thing to ever be taken....

yes I am too confused why only my hair is doing that. 

sobanana (see you later in xhosa....which I am currently in class for...don't get too mad mom)

Another one bites the dust

So you're probably thinking right now- wait what? A new post? On a Sunday? Unheard of!
Well 18 out of lovely 24 person program decided to return to the ol Cape Town hostel last night for a night to remember....even though I can't really right now. We had an incredible day yesterday seeing Robben Island (everyone learned about my motion sickness) and discussed the emotional experience that it was as a group last night- more on that tomorrow.
As for last night, we returned to "our home away from home", not just how I feel about the residence, but it is actually there tagline. Began the challenge that is getting ready in a 12 person co-ed room and went out for the night we had been waiting for for 2 weeks. Our home stays are amazing, but we needed a release after all the shit we've been experiencing and man did we get it. After a quick and semi-delicious din at the Food Inn, every food under the sun, gross looking but lots of locals, we returned to our favorite past time Stones. We thought it was 2 for 1, as it is at the other Stones from 10-11, but it wasn't. Did that stop us? No, 2 for the price of 2. And over and over again. Dancing, being a boss at Pool (yet again), more 2 for 's aqnd you know how it goes. Fast forward to our departure time hours later and Brenna decides to stick her beautiful iPhone in her beautiful custom designed iPhone case in her pocket of her cardigan and walk the 4 blocks home. Fast forward to getting home...no iPhone in the cardigan pocket.
Although last night I was pretty unphased by it, some friends and I retraced my steps and no luck- this morning I realize how it is semi more of a big deal. But still...looking back...not even close to the worst that could've happened. I'm moving on and fyi that the all promising "Lost my iPhone" app is a load of shit.
So somewhere out there is just laughing at my great pics from last night no one will ever seen, hit the Avett Brothers jackpot and is rocking out to all 183 songs, and playing temple run until their fingers fall off. Lesson learned.
Not even 20 years in NYC can make you bulletproof to theft...unfortunately.

More on life tomorrow. Happy Heritage Day (our holiday tomorrow).

Miss me???

I'm SO SO SO sorry for yesterday guys, but that's internet in Africa for ya. Not always there when you need to blog to you're fluctuating 40-50 followers (thanks for that by the way). However, it is a preview to whats to come because starting the 4th of October I will be beginning my rural homestay and along with many transitions and challenges, internet loss being the least of my worries as it is said we will probably share a bed with our partner and potentially family, eat things I did not think we're edible, and have non-consistent access to water, I will being taking a forced break from the blog. So prepare yourselves for that, as I prepare my suitcase with a grocery store of snacks, a pillow and as many water bottles as I can fit under the weight limit.
Back to yesterday!
 Yesterday instead of coming to class we broke up into groups of 4 and went to different high schools around Langa, our township, and Cape Town. I was assigned to Rhodes High School in Mowbray, close to UCT, with three others. At first it was just like, woah, welcome back to high school. Everyone hanging out, not listening to teachers, passing notes, texting under desks, GOOD TIMEZZZZ! But then the teacher explained to us that it was exam week and so she couldn't teach them in between tests so they just got to sit around and chill. After about 10 minutes being in the classroom, watching the teacher monitor them and continuously ask them to study for their test that was going to start in 30 minutes, I realized I was in the live version of Freedom Writers- that movie with Hilary Swank. I also noticed the one girl in the class who was actually trying to study and distracted by everyone talking and of course the one loud girl not paying attention at all and even when the tests were handed out she still tried to get other peoples attention and do anything besides study. It was quite a realization. So here it is...my public apology to all of you trying to study for those STUPID standardized tests, while I tapped my pen and laughed like a hyena in the corner being yelled at and taking up the teachers time. I'm not saying I don't do this anymore- but I have gotten ridiculously better. After the kids were deeper into their tests, Olivia and I decided to quietly dismiss ourselves from the class to go see some other things around the school. We met up with Becca and Brian in the teachers lounge and were met by the school counselor, our contact there and taken on a tour. We saw the facilites and stumbled upon the art room, full of students hanging out before their test in an hour. We sat down and were asked questions by the students, introduced ourselves and met Marianne, the teacher. DRUM ROLL PLEASE FOR MARIANNE. My new inspiration- I know I have a new one everyday, what can I say? I'm inspired easily. Anyway she gave us her life story, fashion school, married and 2 boys in late 20's, one son is a flight attendant living in Eqypt who sends her plane tickets and give her opportunity to travel. She is the most compassionate, loving, hugging teacher- all the students love her and it shows. She is a huge believer in you do not need money for art, just drive and creativity. The students in her class are currently working on a collaborative mural. They each have pieces of cardboard they are designing themselves with the outline of their bodies and then what makes them, them. A representational self portrait if you will. They will be done the end of October and she invited me to come see the finished project. I took her invitation a step further to ask what they would be doing in November, which is when I have the month free on this program to work on my ISP, independent study project. She said they would be designing t-shirts...thats right- DESIGNING T-SHIRTS! I told her I would love to come back and she said I could coordinate whatever I wanted with the counselor we had met earlier. So, yes crazy Brenna ideas are forming. But the whole day was so eye-opening and so rewarding, and so great to be independently just in this school doing what we wanted, talking to whomever for whatever amount of time we needed to talk to them for. No plans, no schedule, just living and learning.

Off to fail a xhosa quiz...Have a great day readers!

casual view of Lion's Head (what i climbed!) form the field
kinda looks like 10 things I hate about you...but no Heath unfortunetly

the classroom I observed

all done in pen, she learned how to shade with gel pens using her finger to create more range of color.

the detail in this one is breath taking. all done in a black pen. this kid is truly talented

she loves fashion too!

my personal fav. i cannot wait to see the finished product- he is going to fill in the
 "I am an African part" in a traditional print. All of this done in pen- indescribable

 

they will all be collaged together like this once completed

Marianne!
Just a perfect person...hopefully she will reappear on this blog

Langa's Next Top Model

yesterday was special. Like really a dream come true- something I wanted to get to do here, but wasn't sure if I would get to. I haven't brought out my camera a lot, due to fear of it getting stolen or just being noticed and associated with me and being thought of as a wealthy, white, American.

After getting home yesterday afternoon, I asked my sis and Gaby's sisi's if they would like to do a photo shoot. We had dabbled in it the night before, as I told you, but we were in our pj's, in the living, just joking around- this time meant business! So the girls got their accesories and met me in the courtyard outside Gaby's house. Abby stopped by to play for a bit and since a pic is worth a thousand words, I've included the top 28 for you from the over 200 pictures we took yesterday. All in all a blast! 

Enjoy!

The Models. From Left to Right: Nosulo, Simpiwe and Lindathi. Couldn't have been better.

The star of the group, a classic Brenna, loves to be the center of attention
and wants the camera all to herself

                     

Luthando
My favorite child in the entire neighborhood. Whilst he is terrified me and runs and cries at the sight of my camera.
I still love him more than words.

Gaby gets in on the fun

too precious. 

favorite photo of the day. Defines all of their personalities perfectly

spotted: LUTHANDO! Simpiwe looking sassy as usual

DANCE PARTAYYYAYYYYAY!!!!

Clap game

Abby got her way in

Self timer fail? Success?
Pyramid Success? Fail?

Boys stink! GET HIM!
this is a my street and how it constantly looks, always full of kids playing

dont worry- they caught him!

Heaven. She is gorgeous and this photo is just a taste of her beauty.

boys will be boys...even in pjs

they really loved picking Gaby up...clearly

 SkidGirls and Sisi's

Langa sunset

Things got SILLYAYAYAYYY!!!

hope you enjoyed those...til next time xoxo Photographer of Langa

Life at the Homestead

So I realize while I may be giving you plenty of info on my cool activities, I haven’t really told you about life at home. I guess I have kinda been overlooking my conversations with my family members because they are not as deep and eye-opening as some people learning about their families experience during apartheid or family members lost or traditions, but my time at home has too been rewarding. While I cant really even call her momma, considering my house mom is probably in her late 20’s, collect shoes, has a bright blue sports car, reads Fifty Shades of Grey and is all around just a hip as someone I would meet in Brooklyn, we had a lovely dinner together tonight. Really for one of the first times here tonight we ate traditional African food- I have not complained about it cause some of my classmates have been stuffing sheep heart, lungs and liver in their pockets as to not disrespect their families who serve it every night. I have been well fed with burgers, pasta and fresh bread and salad from Nozuko’s American kitchen every night. Although Nozuko does not love African food at restaurants or church or other people’s houses, when she cooks it her way, she likes it- as did I! We had samp, which is basically like pea-sized balls of some grain/rice/starch, maybe potato and its mixed with beans and cooked for hours until its all sticky and thick, kinda like oatmeal meets gnocchi. It was served with roasted chicken legs with salty yummy gravy. Very tasty- like a warm bowl of stew, African style. Over dinner Nozuko and I discussed names for her baby. She already has decided to name her Latisa, which means brings warmth and she expects her to warm everyone who comes near her and every room she walks into. As for her middle name she wants something European that has no English translation to bring her inspiration to unique and European. She then asked me about my night last night, which I told her a few details of and that I had a lovely evening. She asked if I was Jewish just because of my mom and I said both my parents were Jewish. She could not wrap her head around the fact that my dad’s parents were both Italian and Jewish. Literally she was cackling at the idea. She said, “So your Italian and American and Jewish? All at once?” I explained to her it was just my lineage and that many Jews from Russia went all over Europe and that they exist everywhere. What was most interesting to me as she laughed away and I just giggled along, was how crazy she found it to be more than one culture. She explained to me this women she knew whose dad was a Muslim and had met his wife, the women’s mother, in Ireland- therefore making the girl half Irish and muslim. Again, Nozuko laughed and laughed. While ill admit it’s a weird combination that happens all the time. It was so crazy to me how far off she thought it was to be of mixed backgrounds. I guess it is just much more uncommon to be a mixture of ethnicities here and probably all of her ancestors are from South or southern Africa. Even though we were not intentionally having a conversation about culture and cultural differences, through just general discussion I picked up on what she found weird and normal. It wasn’t an intense conversation about tragic deaths in her life, or growing up during Mandela’s years in office, I got to learn a bit about Nozuko’s views and background through our discussion. 

Also towards the later hours (8-9pm) of last night, Gaby and I began a little photo shoot with our sisi's so look forward to that. I want to take more pics and post them for y'all but I can't risk this cam being stolen. Already lost one.

L’SHANA TOVA

What I knew going in to tonight:

Met Jill at the Garden Synagogue when my parents and I visited the Jewish museum and poked our heads into the synagogue and, obviously, got to talking when she invited me over for Rosh Hashanah dinner in two weeks with the Jewish kids from my program. Last week I called her and asked if the offer still stood and even if it was now 6 friends if we were welcome. She sounded thrilled on the phone and we made arrangements to meet at synagogue on Sunday evening and then join her at her home for dinner after, and not to be picked up until at least 10:30pm! That’s it. All the info I had.

Well 5 o’clock Sunday rolled around. Had just gotten off the phone with the parentals, Bess of course overjoyed that I had rosh hash plans and reminded me to bring her something, Greg looking forward to yet another forced Jewish holiday dinner chock full of small talk, mediocre food and Hebrew he refuses to learn, yet listens to multiple times a year and Brett, full of few words…grounded…honestly sounded stoned- nothing much has changed on that front. Were driven to the Garden synagogue where we immediately picked out as foreigners and got introduced to the rabbi who welcomed us, as did other congregation members.

Well, never say I haven’t been to a orthadox synagogue again. Me and the other 5 girls sat in a row up top, far away from the men, rabbi, and sound. We were not allowed to sing! Do people know about this? How can you expect women not to speak??? Were the most talktative of the two! Well, shockingly enough I stood there in silence listening and reading along for the 90 minute service, which was pretty painless if I do say so myself. One weird story from the rabbi about a plan needing to land in the middle east and Isreal being the ONLY country willing to help…of course. That’s the shit I honestly hate about judiasm. Just like its sports, have sportsmanship. Root for your team all you want, but you don’t need to put down everyone else and make yourself out to be the all mighty saints.

Anywho it all looked like a classic jewish dinner. Mansion, hired help, old and middle aged South Africans, very jewish… very classy…small talk heavy...they were very interested in what we Americans were doing in Cape Town and, unfortunetly we also learned…they were also very racist. I loved tonight because yet again I got to experience something unlike I had ever seen before and have truly unique conversations. It was just really hard because we are here doing something so foreign and obscene to them, yet we are really just a 20 minute drive away and having an incredible time. I have now been in cape town for 2 weeks and have seen more of it than most people in that room, some pushing 90 years old. Its sad because it is so normal to them to write off neighborhoods like Langa as untouchable as a white person, yet I am smiling coming home here every night and experiencing something I will never get to and would have never been able to without the help of a program like SIT. 

All in all, it was beyond gracious and incredible for Jill to welcome us all into her beautiful home and feed us such an incredible meal- really one of the best jew food dins I've ever had- and I am so happy to have had some of the conversations I had and meet some great, and not so great, people. 

the most beautiful hamsa i have ever seen, outside the house

just the dining room us and 20 others dined in

looking cute in the garden

pooped after a long din

Fear is the lock

Its nights like tonight that make me understand why SIT does what they do and why its an indescribable experience. Why we all chose to do this program and why it makes all the fear and anxiety worth it.

After leaving Langa this morning right after breakfast, and going to the Old Biscuit Mill in Woodstock- my new place I would like to die and be buried and live on forever and the happiest, most well-fed and dressed person on the planet, BECAUSE IT IS LITERALLY THE GREATEST THING SLICED BREAD, or your favorite thing of equilavancy, mine of course being maple syrup, although I do enjoy a nice sliced bread. ANYWHO! After enjoying as much food as possible and squeezing every last ounce of amazingness we could out of the market we decided to take the locals suggestions and head to Camps Bay, the beach, because it was a glorious day. Caught a cab, drove through rundown Woodstock, down the mountain til we began getting glimpses of the bluest ocean I have ever seen, sitting directly underneath Table Mountain. I’m pretty sure it was the most unreal thing I have ever seen. A giant mountain. A crystal clear ocean, with waves, a white sand beach, beautiful people, a strip of restaraunts, all set inside a cove. Either fake or the worlds best beach- no exaggeration. We dipped our feet in the freezing water, got some sundowners and caught our next cab to the barbeque Ellen had invited us to at her house in Langa. After yet another shocked face from this taxi driver about the fact that we were living in Langa, we explained to him our program, although he still didn’t really understand. People just can’t wrap their head around integration. Its kinda that plan and simple. They just don’t get how we can be living in an all black township, and immediately write it off and dangerous and not where we should be as white college-aged girls. We finally made it to Ellens around 6 and were surprised to find almost 10 other kids from the group there. It was a party! We all sat around chit chatting away and it was just so nice to all be together in a casual environment, no teachers or school or anything to get in our way. Some kids bhutis or sisis (brothers and sisters- but not necessarily related just anyone our age-ish or younger) stopped by and hung out for a bit. Eventually we ate dinner, like savages just diving in for more chicken and lining up for all the food we could get- it was a delicious barbeque. After dinner most of the guy’s bhutis had come to walk them home and get their Saturday nights rolling, while the rest of us girls stuck around to hang with Ellen’s family. Ellen’s family- how do I describe the greatness? Well to be honest, it was shockingly similar to my own family. Always hosting as many kids as can squeeze in the living room, running out to get more food when more people show up, happy to cook for 15, 20, 25. It was very special and reminded me tons of home. The rest of us left over sat outside with Ellen’s brother and his two friends and they smoked hookah and the gals had there fanta-vodkas and beers. What was so amazing to me was how incredibly normal it was. It was just the same as I would find walking into a friends house in college with new people I had never met before all shooting the shit and laughing around a fire place. They understood our humor perfectly and were able to converse just as anyone from America could. The moment I stopped focusing on the fact that we were in a township of South Africa, at a random family’s house, with 25ish year-old African guys getting us drinks, I literally felt so comfortable and was so myself it was weird. Where as 24 hours earlier, at another all black UCT party we had gone too, you could feel the uncomfortable-ness in the air.

This past weekend has really made me think about where we are, what we are seeing everyday and just observe some of the norms and daily occurrences of life here. Friday night we were so focused on going into Cape Town for an awesome, fun night- when we actually spent almost 300 rand apiece, had tons of drama, some fun, were scared shitless and had to wake my 60 year old grandma up at 1 am to let me in. Tonight we didn’t leave Langa, spent no money, had absolutely zero drama, came home in time to talk to my grandma and get a “good night my darling”, and felt so happy I could cry and had a night I will never forget. With every decision I make here, I learn something. Whether that be good or bad- its an experience and a lesson.

Of course I am aware that I am a white girl in south Africa, but I think that the more comfortable you get and the less fear I carry around, the more I can enjoy what I’m witnessing and getting to be a part of. The fear is necessary to some extent, but can also prohibit you from having an experience and a good time.

Throwback post- FAM VACAAAA!!! part 1, but really second half

I realized I never told you guys what I was doing for those two mysterious weeks between my departure from the ol USA and my program beginning. Aren’t you wondering what I was up to??? Well relax! I’m gonna let you know right now.

So I only have the pics from the second half of the trip, Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe and Xigera, Botswana, on my comp cause card readers hate me and blah blah blah. But since a pic is worth a thousand words SEE BELOW!

Excuse the excessive solo shots and funny pics of Bessala and Grego cause we only had each other to entertain one another so we just did our thing.

Victoria Falls-

Well I am happy to say that I have been to one of the 7 wonders of the world.

It is truly incredible, almost too surreal to truly believe. It is not only the longest natural waterfall in the world, it is the border between Zimbabwe and Zambia

So here we are (Greg finally tallest- note the rock) smiley and adorable. Sorry for those who get our Christmas card and will see this photo again come December.

DON'T JUMP! just me and the rainbow

Zilly in Zimbabwe. Why I am the way I am...

Fast forward a night at the Victoria Falls Hotel, in which I stayed in alone, ordered room service and watched The Last Kiss on the only movie channel on the TV- Rachel Bilson follows me wherever I go, what can I say? Then a car ride with a lovely blond, Austrian family to the Botswana border, which you have to walk across and transfer cars, to another car to the airport where we boarded a 10 person plane to Xigera, our campsite for the next 3 nights. After landing, a bit of classic Brenna motion sickness on the landing strip (tmi? well then don't read my blog) and driving to the resort we met our guide Dennis...and the adventure in the middle of nowhere began.

Botswana was probably the part of the trip that I felt the most in "Africa"- in class we are learning a lot of what Americans think of Africa, a continent that we have summed up in a word to mean dirty, undeveloped, third world and the most rustic place on earth. We were not really allowed to drink running water, slept in, beautiful, huts where we locked our tent doors due to baboon break-ins and were isolated with no phone, internet or transportation for 3 nights. Although Greg began going a bit stir-crazy after the first 24 hours and was heavily craving a club med, activity packed vaca and just could not sit back and relax for the life of him, it was truly lovely and unlike anything I have ever done before. We were woken up early, fed a glorious breakfast consisting of oatmeal and fresh fruit and bread and taken out on the Okavanga Delta. One day we did a full day trip on the delta and had lunch in the bush and the next day just did a morning drive on land, and one day Greg decided to take a wack at pulling a Mokoro, but we'll get to that....don't you worry....friends, you thought that the Graduation Party was the most embarrassing it got....you have no idea

The best thing about the 72 hours was the people, everyone who works there is just so smiley and happy and interested in talking to all the guests about their lives, experiences in Africa and everything in between, including sharing their fascinating life stories. Although they work for 3 months at a time, with mail as their only form of communication with the outside world and only each other and the animals as company, they are all in such good spirits and generally high on life. And of course cocktail hour is a part of every day and basically mandatory. The bar is always open and is help yourself, which we decided would never work if more teenagers visited this place, but it was mostly older folks guzzling down gin and scotch. 

Here are the best of the best pics......

Bess was awake for sunrise and snapped this shot.
Annie Lebowitz in the making that one

     

  our gorgeous accomadations
Our guides, Dennis in the middle of Greg and I, having sundowners (drinks at sundown) in a field along the delta

Why yes! How did you know that is a 3 DAY OLD ELEPHANT.
I DIE I DIE I DIE I DIE I DIE I DIE

and just in case one pic wasn't enough

Frat Bro-ing it up at the bar. or Boozin in Bostwana
(both are acceptable, cliche, alliterated captions)

swim break on the delta, with drinks of course- who needs a glass? take it out of the shaker.

Oh and here we are trying to be locals. Potentially most embarrassing hour of my life and definitely of the trip.  As good as you think you're balance is.....

its not....

and yes they both got to try it...Greg was surprisingly better. We did lose a shoe, but fortunately not a hip, or life

sobonana