My second day in Johannesburg began as every Sunday should as far as I'm concerned, that is, with brunch.
In Cape Town, my comrades and I have been taking a once weekly class about South African media taught by a lovely Capetonian couple named Chantel and Andre. Hearing that I was traveling to Joburg alone, Andre insisted that I get in touch with Anwar, a good friend of his.
Anwar and his girlfriend Jolene came to get me from my hostel--how lovely it was to be driven around by someone else--and took me to a spot downtown that completely surprised me. We parked in an industrial area under a freeway overpass and approached a graffitied warehouse building but stepped inside and were in a hip, bustling marketplace that makes Seattle's Pike Place look sleepy and lame by comparison.
Jolene and Anwar were kind enough to treat me to a decadent crepe while we perused booths of cool art, vintage clothing, anti-Zuma posters, and hipster cupcakes.
When they returned me to my hostel I hopped in my rental car again--an act of great bravery--and headed out toward Johannesburg's number one attraction, the Apartheid Museum.
GPS and I had differing opinions as to where one can turn legally, what "keep left means," and how to get onto a freeway, but we made it there. The Apartheid Museum, a memorial to one of the greatest social justice atrocities in recent history, sits on the campus of a huge casino and theme park complex. As you walk in past huge pillars reading "freedom" and "equality," you can hear the shrieks of young children on roller coasters nearby--another form of liberation, I guess?
The museum takes about two full hours to see. It's ends up being a lot of reading, but it's set up effectively. Chillingly, as you enter the museum, one door is marked "whites," the other, "non-whites," and you can only go through one.
I thought I would learn about South African history, and I did, but I was also amazed how much I already knew, that is, how much I've learned in the past two months.
After the museum it was late afternoon which in South Africa I have lovingly come to know as wine time. All the guidebooks say that the neighborhood of Melville is the place to be for trendiness and nightlife, so GPS and I headed that way. As promised, Melville was a bastion of trendy restaurants and bars--though I should note that almost every restaurant and bar that I haven been to in this country has been way cooler than the average LA eatery/drinkery. Sorry LA.
My Joburg native coworker in Cape Town had suggested a spot in the neighborhood, but the "Liberation Cafe" across the street looked more my speed. There, I drank wine, watched people salsa dance, and. Was joined yet again by Anwar and Jolene, who were very kind in their willingness to spend time with me.
In Cape Town, my comrades and I have been taking a once weekly class about South African media taught by a lovely Capetonian couple named Chantel and Andre. Hearing that I was traveling to Joburg alone, Andre insisted that I get in touch with Anwar, a good friend of his.
Anwar and his girlfriend Jolene came to get me from my hostel--how lovely it was to be driven around by someone else--and took me to a spot downtown that completely surprised me. We parked in an industrial area under a freeway overpass and approached a graffitied warehouse building but stepped inside and were in a hip, bustling marketplace that makes Seattle's Pike Place look sleepy and lame by comparison.
Jolene and Anwar were kind enough to treat me to a decadent crepe while we perused booths of cool art, vintage clothing, anti-Zuma posters, and hipster cupcakes.
When they returned me to my hostel I hopped in my rental car again--an act of great bravery--and headed out toward Johannesburg's number one attraction, the Apartheid Museum.
GPS and I had differing opinions as to where one can turn legally, what "keep left means," and how to get onto a freeway, but we made it there. The Apartheid Museum, a memorial to one of the greatest social justice atrocities in recent history, sits on the campus of a huge casino and theme park complex. As you walk in past huge pillars reading "freedom" and "equality," you can hear the shrieks of young children on roller coasters nearby--another form of liberation, I guess?
The museum takes about two full hours to see. It's ends up being a lot of reading, but it's set up effectively. Chillingly, as you enter the museum, one door is marked "whites," the other, "non-whites," and you can only go through one.
I thought I would learn about South African history, and I did, but I was also amazed how much I already knew, that is, how much I've learned in the past two months.
After the museum it was late afternoon which in South Africa I have lovingly come to know as wine time. All the guidebooks say that the neighborhood of Melville is the place to be for trendiness and nightlife, so GPS and I headed that way. As promised, Melville was a bastion of trendy restaurants and bars--though I should note that almost every restaurant and bar that I haven been to in this country has been way cooler than the average LA eatery/drinkery. Sorry LA.
My Joburg native coworker in Cape Town had suggested a spot in the neighborhood, but the "Liberation Cafe" across the street looked more my speed. There, I drank wine, watched people salsa dance, and. Was joined yet again by Anwar and Jolene, who were very kind in their willingness to spend time with me.
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