January 2016
So I traveled home by bus, and returned for another exciting year... and interviews... to my home away from home.
I no longer feel that traveling is my get-out-of-jail-free card. On the contrary. Nowadays I travel for work and friendship.
Traveling is a reward and adventure to me nowadays. It is in the waiting and on the way that I have met numerous interesting and fascinating people. Had chats that completely blew my mind, and have been able to comfort the discomforted and encourage the discouraged.
I needed to find another place to stay, so I was praying profusely. And, as though He changed the matrix just for me, I was set up to climb into the bus at 3:30 AM on a dark, but not deserted Vanrhynsdorp morning, next to a lady who had rooms to rent. It was a friendship engineered in heaven! After a long wait, tea and a walkabout for lunch, I was convinced of the rich potential this friendship and companionship could have.
Tuesday was a day of rest and calm for me, and I received phone calls and appointments for interviews... all because I decided sometime during the holiday that I had had enough of an empty schedule, and pressure was mounting for me to get the salary I am worth.
Wednesday, two interviews were crammed into one long day. In this case, I needed to organize a friend to take me to the interview, happily I could reward her with an invitation to a social event. Friends with cars are a good source of traveling...
And what I did not expect: a surprise interview on Thursday... and success. A job with the benefits I was trusting for. Only a MyCiti bus ride away.
Then on Friday, I went where few Louwtjies (people of my clan) have gone before... Dunoon. Not to worry: I went there with MyCiti, got the Taxi to Bellville, got dropped off at the right spot and made a new friend. "What are you doing in Dunoon?" asked the Xhosa girl sitting close next to me. "Catching a taxi, and you?" Said I, trying not to look too Afrikaans. What was going on here is quite fascinating. Not to indulge in too many racial descriptions, the cut is that black people do not think that someone as white as me would be caught dead in Dunoon... it is something like the Bronx in America...(not that I know what is going on there)... but I don't look the part. And it was probably not the wisest choice considering South Africa's explosive political climate.
Even coming back was fascinating: I sat next to an Indian - and saw some of the Bollywood music videos he was watching... then I was ushered to the Dunoon Taxi, and as I got out, I stepped past a Muslim.
When I boldly got onto the Dunoon Taxi, I sat next to a Xhosa Mama, and had a very pleasant conversation. She was fascinated that I could speak her language, and wanted to know all about where I studied it.
When she got out, a man took her place, and he was fascinated when I asked him through which suburb our taxi was heading back to Dunoon. Phoenix. I had never taken a CT - Dunoon Taxi. But I explained to him that I knew the roadmaps, I just needed labels for the physical locations as I saw them.
My trip with the Taxi was cut short. A MyCiti Station appeared at my left, beyond the robot where we were stopping. I could take my leave.
I sincerely hope that I could change negative perceptions with those small groups of people by my presence. Apparently we could only hope for the best. It is so true what Ria had advised me... do not seek to exalt yourself in the eyes of others... do not want to be a source of information. Do not want the spotlight. If you need it, God will provide it.
When I am in Dunoon, however, I catch the attention, because I look different. And the travel... it is rewarding me.
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