The Grand Adventures of Bunk 7

15 people. 8 days. 7 hostels. 1,600 kilometers. 3 surfboards, 1 microbus. You can quantify our Garden Route road trip in many ways, but numbers (even words) kind of fail to do it justice, in my book. It was (to turn quite the phrase) a pan-coastal journey of rather epic proportions, from the hills of Cape Town to the hairpin turns along South Africa's rocky southern coast, ending in the beaches of Port Elizabeth. We were a group of kids navigating a foreign country, maneuvering two people-packed, stick-shift vehicles on the wrong side of the road, so I'm still sort of amazed something didn't go wrong.

Two Saturdays ago, I clambered into the back of our minibus preparing for a crisis (grand theft, police ticket, car accident, flat tire, lost in the mountains, you name it), and yet, nothing took a turn for the worst. In fact, it all went rather fabulously.

The landscape varied quite a bit:

...and so did our activities. Day 1, we camped out at a music festival:

Up the Creek was probably the most unique music fest I've ever been to. Everyone brought some sort of flotation device (whether it be an inflatable shark, an air mattress, or a tire) and then literally went "up the creek" to listen to the live music. The stage was situated on top of the ravine, so you could laze the day away floating around on the water, sipping a drink, and listen to some great bands.

We did a lot of swimming, surfing, and frolicking at the beaches of Mossel Bay, Jeffreys Bay, and Port Elizabeth:

We bunked, twice, in the seventh car of a train-turned-hostel, and thus earned the nickname "Bunk 7."

We actually stayed in a number of great places, one being a surfer hostel in Jeffreys Bay dubbed "Island Vibe." If everyone went about their lives at the relaxed pace those at Island Vibe emulated, there would be peace on earth.

We spelunked, we sandboarded, we safaried...

...cruised past an ostrich farm or two...

And when we were too sunburnt and exhausted to do any more, we braaied.

Not to mention we drove.

And believe me when I say there are few better feelings than laughing with great people in a microbus on a sunny South African afternoon, windows down, wind whipping your hair, the music loud, and nothing but the open road ahead of you.

Meeting Table Mountain

It is a testament to the whirlwind of these 20 days that I am only now sitting down to give an update of my "first few days" in Cape Town. In all fairness, I just recently gained regular access to Internet, as we moved into our housing for the semester about 10 days ago. I am living in a four-person apartment in a University of Cape Town residence hall, with one American roommate and two local students. One of my African roommates has yet to move in, but the other, Kwo, is from Zimbabwe and seems to be very cool.

I never really got time to settle in, however, as I just returned from an 8-day travel break, during which I jumped in a minibus for a road trip down South Africa's famed Garden Route. The road trip was pretty spectacular and necessitates a post all to itself, so I'll save that for later. For now, I would like to introduce you to Table Mountain.

Table Mountain is an imposing presence around here. It seems to never go out of view, no matter where you are around the city. I, in an uncharacteristic display of navigational savvy, have learned to discern my general location by a quick glance at its peaks. Devil's Peak, to the east, is the pinnacle closest to University of Cape Town's campus. Lion's Head, to the west, borders the Cape Malay community.

My first real encounter with Table Mountain came the very first day I arrived. While our peers were napping, a couple of friends and I thought the best way to fight off jetlag would be a nice brisk hike to the bottom of Devil's Peak. Not being very experienced in the area of mountainous hiking, I expected it to be kind of a cinch. Little did I know I would be expected to complete the 2,500-foot hike in a little over an hour. I did it, but with the high winds (Cape Town is ALWAYS windy) and the beating sun, I was less than the picture of beauty when we finally reached the base of the peak. Cape Town was, though.

The Cecil Rhodes Memorial halfway up the peak

The view [almost] from the top

The next night I finally got to conquer Table Mountain, but not without a little help. Our study abroad director treated us to a dinner on top of the plateau, complete with the famed cable car ride to the top, and a little advice to the romantics ("You wait until it is sunset, and then you say, 'You are the light of my life!' as soon as the lights in the city come on."). There are very few words to describe how spectacular it was. Though I barely knew the people in my program, we scrambled all over the rocks, giddily shouting to one another to check out yet another fantastic vantage point. Table Mountain had certainly delivered.

What resembled a "cloud waterfall," but is called the "tablecloth," the blanket of clouds rolling off the plateau