I'm a sucker for artistic statements, especially when someone (in this case landscape artist Strijdom van der Merwe) takes the trouble to wrap all the oak trees in Stellenbosch's historic Dorp street. I don't really care that it's raising money for charity. I just like the way it looks. That old cliche about Stellenbosch (and CT for that matter) being a city of contrasts is incredibly true. On the way in to Stellenbosch you can't help notice all the sex-workers on the side of the road with their short skirts. But the city itself is respectability personified. The architecture is lovely (for want of a better word) and it's a quaint, vibrant, beautiful university town. Someone described it as an island of wealth in a sea of poverty. But today I'm just admiring the oak trees. My mom's comment was, "I hope those trees can breathe."

Ek sou nou nooit dink dat Stellenbosch kan double vir Indië nie, maar mens moet seker maar die multibiljoen-dollar Bollywood krediet gee. Al wat ek kon uitvis in die Neelsie by die Tannie van Amaboko, is dat die fliek glo by 'n universiteit in Bangladesh afspeel. En met my eie oë kon ek sien dat die held van die fliek en sy side-kick die heeltyd op sulke blink motorfietse rondrits. Al wat my teleurstel is dat van wat ek kon sien, daar nog geen gesinkroniseerde dansies al om Ons Weldoener of in die bibgaatjie was nie. Dit sou absurd wees. Selfs meer absurd as Medies se Vensters. Maar die hoop beskaam nie. Ek dink egter nie hulle sal vandag wil skiet nie. Dis mistig en koud buite in teenstelling met gister se helder sonskyn.

En al wat lyk my gister in die fliek aan die gang was, is studente wat in en uit die bib stap. Ek het ook so in die verbystap Neelsie toe gewonder wat hulle maak met uitstaande landmerke of Afrikaanse woorde. Wys hulle byvoorbeeld die ingang van die JS Gericke Biblioteek, staan daar lewensgroot bo die ingang: "JS GERICKE BIBLIOTEEK". Plak hulle gou ietsie bo-oor of kan mens dit deesdae na die tyd met 'n rekenaar uitvee?

Die arme crew het natuurlik hulle hande vol om die mense wat rêrig bib toe moet gaan uit die skote te hou. Die bib toemaak, nooit gesien nie! Na bewering moes my blonde vriendin anderkant omloop juis omdat sy blond is. Sy sou egter vir die vorige fliek uiters geskik wees, want toe het hulle juis blanke studente gesoek. Wat my laat dink het dat Suid-Afrika van vandag werklik 'n wonderlike land is. Hier bly mense van alle aangesigte en enigiemand kan maar agter in die agtergrond verbyloop, dit sal OK wees.

The internet is now set up in my room- one of the last steps to being completely settled in!

I was really nervous about this whole endeavor in London. There were too many people and I really didn't find a connection with any of them, and as stated,??, felt a total lack of connection with most. Many aren't attempting to adapt to Stellenbosch with anymore ardor than they did in London. One girl is actually contemplating going home- hopefully she sticks it out long enough to get over the “culture shock” and sees how she feels.

However! Feelings of anxiety and near-regret have dissipated. Luckily, I got out of rooming with an American and have a Dutch roommate. I think the satisfaction I will gain from these months has increased exponentially due to just that fact. We've only spoken once because orientation is time consuming, but I see us becoming easy friends. We have a small apartment with a shared kitchen and individual bedrooms and bathrooms. The bed is supplied, as are linens, a desk and a wardrobe and it is about the same size as a US dorm room. The bathroom is entirely passable- the water is warm, pressure is fine, ect.

Today I overheard a group of girls talking about how this isn't what they expected. I have absolutely no idea what they had in mind, but the district we are in is about as “first world” as you can imagine. We have a student center with a post office, banks, restaurants, stores, groceries, cell phones, ect. and a mall about a 10 minute walk from campus in a very nice shopping district. Outside of different brands and architecture, it is entirely European. The country is still developing in many ways and Stellenbosch as a town is neither problem free nor polished, but so far as our small corner of the continent goes, the University and your stereotypical image of “Africa” have nothing in common.

That being said, this is definitely a bubble, just like many universities in the US. It becomes fairly clear just on your ride from the airport. The scenery is undeniably beautiful, the mountains and the blue skies and the greenery, but in order to view this picturesque landscape, you have to look over “shanty towns” (it's no longer politically correct to call them that), or communities started by apartheid but increased and intensified by the rapid urbanization occurring worldwide. (For example, Kayamandi, the settlement in Stellenbosch, had 6,000 residents under apartheid, but has a population of 30,000 today. I'll get to volunteer there starting in a few weeks- my resident director also runs the program and is very enthusiastic which has made me very excited.) They look exactly like the very depressing pictures you see of foreign ghettos or “urban developments”- shed sized homes made of a variety of pieces of rusted aluminum and wood layered together, most drooping slightly to one side, seemingly held together by clothes lines. They are mostly without windows and are so close together they seem to be attached, all arranged in rows under an almost-mesmerizing web of electric lines and cell phone towers. We also encountered a couple of street kids yesterday and have been warned on many occasions that robberies are so common it is almost part of the culture, and, of course, walking alone at night isn't advised. Overall it appears to be pretty safe here, though, and I don't feel the need to exercise anymore caution here than I do at home. (Consider my paranoia at home before scolding me.) I'm sure I'll have plenty of stories to tell.

I haven't registered for classes yet because we get to go to all of the classes we are interested in next week and then decide- which I think is extremely awesome. I'm no longer interested in doing the service-learning certificate because we were warned many times today that the program director is extremely strict and unaccommodating, and that it is very time intensive. Also, you have no say in which project you participate. Instead, I am going to take a full-course load and volunteer elsewhere and join other organizations. I'd rather be able to try many things and get more deeply involved in a few than be stuck doing something I didn't care for. I'm still taking a language, though, since it counts for major credit. We had introductory Afrikaans (pronounced Afric-ahns as opposed to Africans) and Xhosa (pronounced with a click in the side of your mouth- a click like that guy in that one movie that winks and points at someone obnoxiously while making that clicking noise- so click+hosa) today and I have no idea which one I will choose. I'm going to attend both first meetings and see which one seems better. Afrikaans in more widely spoken in general, but Xhosa is more common in my province. Xhosa seems like it would be crazy fun to learn (c, x and q are clicks as well as some other combinations) and I'm thinking it was a home language and therefore largely an unwritten language until recently, meaning that all of the letters and sounds actually make sense (imagine that!) so pronunciation is based on logic and not arbitrary rules designed to subjugate the underclasses (Ehm, French). But logically I should take Afrikaans because it is more likely to be helpful in Stellenbosch. Stellenbosch is actually a strictly Afrikaans university, outside of the classes for foreign students. It is one of the only and it is a fairly contentious issue because of the roots of the language. I was explaining it correctly-ish before I left, but now I understand more precisely. The Dutch established a stopping point for the East India Company in the 1600s and needed native labor for the farming and industry required to replenish passing ships. When native labor wasn't enough, they sought further north for laborers and slaves. Seeing as there were a wide variety of community and regional languages, communicating with one another was very difficult and when the French, English and a few Portugese, as well as some Indians and a variety of other peoples from southern Asia, joined the Cape community, the language barrier was a little ridiculous. Afrikaans is basically watered down Dutch, very simple to learn and understand (there are only three tenses) and combined with words and influence from the above mentioned languages. At one point near the beginning, the Afrikaaners (used like an ethnic group) believed that they were the chosen people of Africa and that God had given them this land... a sentiment that surely contributed to the loss of native peoples and the subjugation of the colored Africans in later centuries. Therefore, Afrikaans is a colonial language and even though it is the first language of much of the community in South Africa, black, white, colored or otherwise, some people are offended by its use because of its roots. Oh and “colored”, though unfashionable in the US (and it is fashion) is the correct adjective as “black” doesn't cover all of the bases in some cases.  Colored people may have a diverse ethnic background including all of the aforementioned oppressors, participants and natives of the Cape's past.

Interesting things I've learned recently:

Stellenbosch is fairly conservative by world standards but is in a state of transition. Something like 1 in 5 men believe that if a woman wears revealing clothing, it is her fault if she is raped. However, that number is down from 33% a few years ago, so progress is indeed being made.

Avocado is on everything!

In addition to wines, South Africa also has awesome juices (or so they keep telling me)- today I tried litchi and bought a few others.

Things are cheap. Sheet sets run about R49, a good lunch is R29, a big container of yogurt is about R10. I got a few things at the grocery store today for breakfast tomorrow and nothing was more than R15. I haven't been to a pub yet, but apparently shots run about R7 and a pint of beer is R10 or something. There are either 7 or 8 Rands in a dollar depending on the day. Prices on shampoo and cosmetic stuff seem pretty much the same, but only if you're using an American brand product. I'm excited to go grocery shopping tomorrow--- at Woolworths. Are those around in the US anymore? Did they have a grocery section when they were? They have really nice produce here. I'd like to go to the market but it is held on Saturdays and I won't be in town.

There is no recycling program. But they do charge for plastic bags...

One of the reasons no one in South Africa was playing Halo is because you pay per MB here, not per month. The internet is sent underneath the Atlantic from either the US or Europe so the cost is based on the amount of usage.

Lastly, and MOST importantly... the kitties here don't have tails! There are a couple of kitties running around and the first one I saw looked a little funny but I didn't know why. I followed one last night and realized it didn't have a tail, and I saw another today without one. I want to make friends with one and then make them do balancing tricks to see how it affects them.

Also- I wrote this a few days ago. Yesterday I did a massive shopping excursion and got the last of the things I needed, a cell phone and I went to the market and got some awesome food. An avocado here is about $.60 and pineapples are about $.70.

I'm actually a little bit homesick today- or maybe just a bit frustrated with the day. It's kind of difficult to keep your mood under control. Like I said, the town is undeniably beautiful, but you turn a corner and are just hit with poverty and sadness. Today, for example, I “ordered” a bike and was walking home on the main street, and there were four people sitting on the side of the road. I saw them point at me, talk to one another, and then send this guy out to talk to me. He asked for money, as expected, but was super persistent about it, to the point of grabbing me and following me.

I'm collecting information and interesting points to make another “Helpful Info" thing... AIFS is doing a really great job, but of course there are things I would have liked to have known.

This rainbow appeared on Friday afternoon and I shot this panorama from the balcony of our office building.

See a larger view of this image

Ek is een van die gelukkiges wat nog vir twee weke hier moet wees om vir die universiteit te werk. Meer spesifiek: ek moet diensure doen by die Departement, omdat my kontrak so sê.

Ek mag egter nie meer in my eie koshuis woon nie, omdat alle koshuise gesluit word. En hier is die genotvolle kinkel in die residensiële kabel: ek mag ook nie in die inblykoshuis gaan woon nie, want ek het nie 'n hereksamen nie. (Nagraadse studente het juis die nare gewoonte om nie eksamen te skryf nie.) Na 'n futiele poging om 'n tannie by Admin-A te oortuig dat ek genoegsame rede het om nog 'n paar dae in my eie koshuis aan te bly, sit ek nou sonder heenkome.

Neem 'n oomblik om dit te verteer. Ek moet vir die universiteit werk, maar hulle wil my nie toelaat om hier te woon nie.

Pret.

*edit* 'n Vriend in 'n seniorkoshuis vlieg môre elders heen en het aangebied dat ek in sy kamer mag woon. Dankie Cloetie! *edit*

I lived and studied out in Stellenbosch and we didn't get these opportunities often. We weren't really the hub of liberation arts down there in the bundus. We were only going to get the Voëlvry Toer a bit later in the year. And then everything will change overnight. Well, it felt like overnight. For now we were still the backward university run by the Broederbond - a secret society of Afrikaner leaders in key positions. With the names of our university buildings celebrating the Apartheid founders and leaders like the Verwoerd Building and the Vorster Building where I studied. Political Science of all things.

But somehow Basil "Mannenberg" Coetzee decided to come and play to us boere. Basil "Mannenberg" Coetzee! Man, I was as exited as hell. He just came back from an overseas tour. And he was coming to Stellenbosch? He was a legend. In my eyes, Mister Cape Town Jazz. Yes, we were blessed with some of the greats down in the Cape. Dollar Brand, sorry - Abdullah Ibrahim. Legend himself. And maybe the popular choice for the best of Cape Town. But he was too fancy for me. Too complex for a guy like me with no musical ear. And Hugh Masekela up north. Great, but not being from Cape Town meant he couldn't speak to my heart. My head yes, but not my heart. For me it was always Basil "Mannenberg" Coetzee. I liked the simplicity and beauty of Basil. His passion was so raw. On the edge. As if he was going to explode any minute now. And here I was. Listening to "The Man". Live! As if God came to town to visit the little people for a few minutes.

The stage where he played was small. Not much bigger than a large office. We were so close to him and the band. Sabenza. They were almost on top of us. But we didn't care. We just wanted to hear Mannenberg. The song Mannenberg. Play it Basil! Play it! That's all we wanted to hear. It calmed us down. The song of Cape Town. And no one played it better than him. Or with more passion. And he played it. And he played it. Sweat running down his face. His body swaying back and forth as he played it. Sometimes jerking as if he was being beaten by the cops in the streets of Mannenberg. He was loving it. He was living it. He was Basil from Mannenberg. Playing the song of his people. And we just soaked in his music. His passion. His love for our little spot here at the bottom of the continent.

It was unbelievable. Basil played. And every now and then he'll stop and stare at the crowd. Sometimes it felt as if he was looking straight at me. The boer in the crowd. He wouldn't know who I was. He just saw the face. I didn't realize straight away that I was the only guy who looked like a boertjie in the crowd. And it was a marginal call at best. But I still stood out in the crowd. I guess the long hair didn't help either. And he'll stare a bit and then give us a political lecture.

But not the type of lecture I had at university. This was full of passion. In my language. The way the people spoke it. Not some academic using words that sounded like Latin plant names. He spoke about people being forceably removed from their homes in District 6. How they struggled on the Cape Flats. Like his family. Like he did. Moved from District 6 to Mannenberg. And he told us how we must be the difference. The difference between yesterday and tomorrow. That we are the tomorrow. We make the future. And then he'll play a bit more. All of them - Khayalitsha Dance and CT Blues and more. All from Sabenza. I just bought the album a while back - okay, the tape. And he played them all. And he played us all. Working us into a frenzy with his words and music mix.

He'll play a song and then he'll stop and shout a slogan or two. And then, right at the end it happened. He stopped and stared at us. And then stared at me. And slowing started playing Song for Winnie. While looking at me. I was sure he was looking at me. I hope he was looking at me. He looked down as the song ended and slowly looked up. Straight at me. I was sure I could see a smile forming slowly while he looked at me. Sweat dripping from his face. And then he jerked his head up and quickly punched his clenched fist into the air - the liberation salute - and shouted, "Amandla!". Everyone punched the air and shouted back, "Awethu!".

I did. Followed his lead. Without even thinking. It's a gut reaction. My fist went up like a flash. And I shouted as loud as I could. Because the man spoke. And when I looked back at the stage where he stood I realized he was looking at me. He saw me. No. He watched me. His smile was much bigger now. He got the boertjie. He got me. And then he winked. He winked at me and shouted, "One settler, one bullet". And then he laughed. Everyone laughed. Even I laughed. It was for me. But in fun. Yes, he got me. I got me to laugh. And he got me to remember "the people". Why we do this. Amandla! Awethu! Power! To the People! Basil and Mannenberg got me. And he winked at me. And it was sweet. It was an honor beyond belief. Basil "Mannenberg" Coetzee saw me, watched me and taught me. About Mannenberg. And what I had to do.

May you rest in peace now Basil. Basil "Mannenberg" Coetzee. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for the wink. I still see it. And I still live it. Hope you're watching from up there. You're the man. Just keep on playing that Cape Town jazz. That'll keep them going. It got me going.

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We left our kids with friends and our dogs and cats with a house-sitter and went to Stellenbosch. An University town only 100 kms from where we live into the mountains. We drove the scenic route along the coast, always stunning and breathtaking.
Our first stop was at a used bookstore in Gordon's Bay. We spent an hour there and I bought a Madonna Biography. Of all books! But I don't like used books and that book was brand-new and ridiculously cheap. I am not even a Madonna fan. Never have been. I only liked the song Holiday when it came out and never understood the Madonna hype. Maybe that's why. To finally find the secret of Madonna's success and apply it to my life. Definitely not after I started reading it.

I choose the guesthouse with the best bedding. Feather pillows, of course, and starched white linen. It was a beautiful colonial building, very tasteful, but all the door handles were in knee hight. Asking the manager why that's so, she said there used to be an orphanage that burned down. A lot of children died, because they were locked in and couldn't reach the door handles. In respect of those children, the architect placed the handles that low, when the house was rebuilt.

The weather was beautiful in spite of the weather report who predicted rain. We ate sushi, steak and fried noodles at a japanese restaurant sitting in the sun on the street, watched a wedding crowd at the botanical garden, went to see a movie, which I already forgot, and ate the best pizza of South Africa.

Sven loves to take me out to restaurants and I hate eating my food among strangers. For me eating is a as intimate as sleeping and I prefer to do this with people I love and I feel uncomfortable doing it at a public place. Especially a dinner for two. I would have taken the pizza home to eat it in bed. That`s my sense of a romantic dinner. Sven is more civilized and grown up. I played along the grown up part and he agreed to spend the rest of the evening in bed and not in bars.

The next day we drove into a nature reserve. I didn't bring proper hiking shoes so we just drove trough, which was fine with me and still very beautiful. When we got out of the car to walk a few steps up to a waterfall, there were little insect flying around. Soon we were covered with lady birds. I have never seen that many. They were everywhere. Even back in the car while we were driving, I had to release them trough the window.

When we went back over the mountain in the late evening sun, the valley had disappeared behind clouds. We immersed into thick thick fog and it felt, as if we had come from a very special place, not from this world, where the sun had been shining just for us.

Section A : Stellenbosh beat St Stithians

Section B : Selborne College beat Parktown Boys

notre journee de lundi se passe dans les terres, au nord de Cape Town, en commencant par prendre la direction de Stellenbosch, village musee a une heure de notre hotel pour y decouvrir l'habitat neerlendais typique des colons au XVIII^eme siecle.

Une fois cette etape culturelle effectuee nous prenons la route du domaine Neethlingshof pour y deguster leur production de vin et y dejeuner tranquillement.
Apres nous etre rassasies; il est temps de reprendre le cote culturel de cette journee en rejoignant Franschoek (litteralement Coin des Francais), son histoire francaise, son musee Huguenot ou l'on decouvre qu'une des notres a un aieul et prendre le temps de profiter du soleil a une terrasse.

Notre soif de culture assouvie, nous avons repris la direction de Frontwater afin de passer notre derniere soiree a Cape Town dans un restaurant Jazz.
Il ne nous reste plus, maintenant, qu'a tenter un peu de repos avant notre depart fort matinal de demain pour rejoindre Durban...
Il va falloir du courage... Bonne nuit a tous

Les aventuriers du bar perdu

We attended the same university. We were in the same class. Studied the same subjects. Political Science and Philosophy. But we were light-years away from each other. I sat right in front of the class. Always prepared. Always asking questions. Always willing to give my opinion. She thought I was full of myself. And she was right of course.

She sat at the back or middle somewhere. I didn't look around to check. I was too consumed with my studies. And too consumed by myself. She hung out at the back. She and her gang of girl friends.

I did see her in my pub every now and again. De Akker. It was my home away from home. Where I could hang out with my fellow philosophers. Kitchen philosophy. Thinking we were so bright. I think it was just an excuse to drink more Tassenberg and Castle. She didn't need an excuse. She just drank it and had fun. Ha. She wasn't serious enough for my gang of guys and girls.

I saw her at the Neelsie - our local cafeteria for student. I played bridge with my gang. And drank coffee. At our table. Yes, our table. No one was allowed to touch our table. It was always ready and open just for us. And you would know if you stepped into our little world. You will get ignored. And told to please leave the table. She hung out with her gang a few tables away. Laughing and joking with each other. Jeez. Can't they be serious for a change? I didn't like her much. This girl who shared some of my space on campus.

I knew this guy. Not really a friend. Just a guy called Sven. Not Swedish. And he was trying to talk some courage into me. You see, I wanted to ask this girl out on a date - not the girl I didn't like. But had no guts. I was always a little backwards and shy when it came to women. Never knew how to talk to them. But I wanted to ask this girl out on a date. So he was encouraging me to just go and ask her. So off I went and started talking to her. For two long hours.

We spoke about her family. Her studies. Her interests. Where she lived. What she wanted to do. Everything. But never managed to actually ask her out on a date. So I made the slow walk back to this guy I knew, tail between my legs. And there she was. This girl I didn't like.

I nodded my head in her direction and she gave less of an acknowledgement back. I look at the guy and he asked, "So, did you ask her out?" I just shook my head and sat down. Sulking. This girl I didn't like looked at me and just shook her head. Stared at me for a little while and said, "You're such a pissy". And with that she turned around and walked away.

I stared after her. Not because she of what she said. Not because of my stupid inability to ask the other girl out on a date. Not because Sven was laughing at me. Not because this girl I didn't like walked away. None of that. I stared because my heart just stopped. The blood drained from my body. It hit me like a lighting-bolt. I just had a vision of my future. I was going to marry this girl I didn't like.

I knew it the moment she looked at me and said those words. I felt like running after her and telling her. Telling the world. Even Sven. But I just sat there and stared. Because I just met my future.

I couldn't wait to get home and tell my mother. I blurted it out as I got home. "Mom, I just met the woman I am going to marry." She looked at me. She saw my fair share of girlfriends. Never liked any of them much. You know me and my mother. But she realized I was dead serious. And she wasn't impressed. But I was ecstatic. I met my future wife! Goddamn pissy indeed! Now all I had to do was show her what a cool guy I am and let nature and instinct do the rest.

But she had other ideas. It seems as if she was interested as well. Maybe not in marriage yet, but at least a little interest in exploring a bit further. She knew my history of asking woman out and knew she couldn't wait for me to make a move. So she asked me out. Okay, not in those words, but she did. I think she did.

I was sitting playing bridge with my gang when she walked to our table and started talking to a few of the other people at my table. Telling them about the party at the De Akker  they were having that evening. And asking them to join her gang for some fun. She never looked at me once. But as she was about to walk away she turned around and looked at my friend Kevin and said, "And tell that man he can come as well if he wants." And then walked away. Not looking back once. She asked me out for a date. Right?

Of course I went. It was De Akker. So it would look odd if I didn't go. But I went straight to where she and her gang would be. Not my usual seat. Not even my usual room. But I bolted for her table to get my seat. And sat next to her the whole evening. Just talking to her. Not touching her. But so close to her. And the gang were real loud. Thanks Nicola for standing on the table and singing Sinead O'Connor's Last Day Of Our Acquaintance - you gave me the chance to lean in closely to talk to her. Whisper in her ear. My lips almost touching her cheek. And she would turn to me and lean in closely to talk to me over the noise - her face an inch away from mine. But I had to control myself. This wasn't just fun. This was my future.

I had no pressure on me. None. Because I knew I was going to get married to her. I could take it easy. I didn't have to kiss her. I didn't have to hold her hand. I didn't have to sleep with her. Nothing. Because all of that will come in the years to follow. For now I just wanted to be next to her and get her to have the same feeling for me. Let her get to know me better. (I know, it's a risky strategy!) So I could just soak in her presence and get to know her. I sat there next to her and we just talked and joked and laughed and drank a bit more. And then it was time to go. It was a Thursday.

I couldn't wait to see her the next day. But I had to play it cool. I wanted to be cool. I wanted her to see how cool I can be. Mr Cool. That was my strategy. Mr Cool. So I met up with her at the Neelsie. She was at my table when I got there... I had a coffee with her and didn't join in the game of bridge. Just sat there with her - leaning back in my seat and chatting away. After and hour or so I asked her if she felt like going for a drink. Yeah, why not. It's already 10 am. So off we went to De Akker.

We sat there for a few hours - drinking and talking. Still not touching. But having fun. She was off to her folks for the weekend. 400 kilometres away. I wasn't going to see her for a few days. But that was okay. She was here now and we were having fun. I was telling her that my dad was the worst driver I know. How he reversed into the gate at our house a while back. And we shared stories and joked a bit more. And then it was time to go. I was driving her to her car. But first we had to get there...

The first mistake I made was trying to be Mr Cool. I am just not naturally cool. Just not me. I can't act cool. Because I am naturally clumsy. So I was asking for trouble trying to be Mr Cool. It was an accident waiting to happen. And it did. The accident - literally.

We got into my car outside De Akker and I reversed to pull out of the parking bay. And reversed straight into the huge ditch next to the road. Stellenbosch is full of these water channels running next to the road. Used for watering gardens and getting rid of rain water. Old style, but still in use. And I managed to reverse straight into that after I told her about my dad and his driving. Not Cool. Especially not with a flat tyre that came with my little accident. Goddamn pissy. She laughed at me and I laughed back. A Cool manly laugh of course.

Well, we said goodbye - no kissing. Just a goodbye and see you next week. And I was left there changing my tyre. Laughing at myself for being so stupid. But I was going to stick to the Mr Cool strategy. It can't get any worse now can it? Yes it can.

She got back and we continued with our drinking during the day and night. And going to class slightly tipsy after visiting the pub just before joining the rest of the class. And it was fun. Just sitting there with her and talking and talking. For two weeks. And I did nothing else. Didn't kiss her. Didn't even hold her hand. But I knew I had to make my move sooner or later. I mean really, how long can I just talk to her before she loses interest?

But then one day I was to meet her at the Neelsie like we always do - to start off our day. And she came in and I saw she was upset. She hardly talked to me. I didn't know what was going on. But I thought I did something wrong. Maybe she got sick and tired of always doing something but also doing nothing. Maybe she was sending me a message - "Sorry buddy, you are way too much of a pissy for me". So I knew I had to make my move. Game on.

I ran quickly to buy some flowers and two bottles of Tassenberg. I was going to take her to my secret spot at the river. And I was going to make my move. Come hell or high water. Today was the day.

I rushed back and gave her the flowers. She smiled and gave me a hug. "Thanks", she said, "but it wasn't you". Her uncle died. It wasn't me. But still. I had two bottles of red wine. And a plan that couldn't fail. So off we went to the river. In my old 1978 Mazda 323 with a Cat Stevens Greatest Hits tape that's been stuck in the tape-deck for the last 2 years. No, it wasn't that I liked him that much - it just got stuck and I never had the money to fix it. So we listened to Wild World and Oh Very Young while driving to my spot at the river. I was going to be sooo Mr Cool.

We got to my little beach at the river. No one else around. Just the two of us. It was early summer and hot. So I just flipped the two bottles into the river - nonchalant - knowing it will fall softly on the sand. But it didn't. The second bottled hit the only bloody stone around and broke. Mr Cool indeed. I grabbed the bottled before the precious liquid drained away and filtered it through a cloth I had handy. But I was determined to be Mr Cool. The bottle was just a little slip. It couldn't get worse. Right?

It was hot and I took off my shirt and decided to go and sit on one of the rocks in the river. You know - the way Mr Cool would. I managed to get to the rock without falling into the river - a minor miracle by itself. Settled down and we talked. Me sitting on my rock and she sitting on the little beach. Cool, right? Yes, until I looked down. And walked on water.

I will kiss a snake if I have to. I will fight off a lion with my bare hands. I will charge a rhino at full speed. But just don't show me a spider. I can't stand them. Really can't. So when I looked down and saw this little spider my instincts kicked in and I gave a yelp and a scream, jumped up in a flash and ran to the little beach as if I was being chased by a pack of hungry wolves. Not Cool.

I gave up on being Mr Cool. I was just going to be me. The "goddamn pissy". We laughed about how silly I was. And how silly I looked. The tears were running down our cheeks. She leaned against me while we sat on the beach because I was getting cold from my little trip to the rock and back. And we joked a bit more. And drank our watered down red wine. And we kissed. On 11 October 1990.

Yes, me and this girl I didn't like. She is my wife. But then - I knew that. Even though I was a "goddamn pissy". I love my wife. We have fun. And haven't stopped laughing since that day at the river. Always fun and always love. And today is better than then. And tomorrow will be better than today. Always. I love my wife. More.

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It’s finally time to wipe the sleep from your bleary eyes, to look out across the world and brace yourself for another year filled with the joy of learning. It’s time for returning students to shrug off the ingrained habits of our holidays and start waking up before lunch time. It’s time for first year students to recover from their orientation and finally start sleeping until lunch. It’s time for 2008. 

And what a great year 2008 promises to be. On a personal note, the future looks so full of promise for an aspiring columnist. The rise to power of a certain politician of questionable character has meant that a lot of prominent columnists have been left regretting that their quips and comments are a matter of public record. I foresee a huge (and possibly enforced) exodus of the aforementioned prominent columnists in the near future, leaving a sizeable gap open for a columnist willing to keep this mouth shut about certain sensitive issues pertaining to showers and tow the party line. Over and above the removal of a vast majority of our country’s humorists, the multitudinous problems of Eskom mean that television may no longer be a viable entertainment option. Reading faintly humorous columns by candlelight looks set to become the national pastime. This is, of course, fantastic news for journalists, candle makers and the producers of fire-proof newspapers.

I’m not the only one who is filled with joy at the beginning of the year. Here in Stellenbosch, the excitement is almost palpable. The nation’s joyous youth, gathered together from the four corners of our country[1]. Amongst them are those doe-eyed, fresh-faced, young innocents, the First Years. Each of them is ready to take a step into the future, to embrace their destiny and follow in the footsteps of those who have stepped and embraced before them.  As they arrived you could almost hear Elton John singing Circle of Life. At least you might have been able to if it wasn’t for the overwhelming sound of First Years practising for Vensters. If you happen to be living in res you’ll have heard the same song approximately two thousand times in the past week, which is nearly as many times as it was played on 5fm during the same time period. This was the first year in which I could partake in the pleasures of Vensters and I must say that it was exactly what I expected: a mildly unsettling mix of pulsating lights, pounding music seemingly pointless dances, skankily-clad girls, topless guys, bad jokes and incoherent story lines all with a smattering of the Buddy Message[2]. At times watching Vensters made me feel as if I was on drugs or being subjected to some bizarre brain washing procedure. My heart bleeds for those First Year Girls who live close enough for their family to come and watch. I’m sure that it can’t be a pleasant experience gyrating in front of your parents as the type of nurse who is more likely to cause a heart attack than to help stop one. Never mind being involved in Metanoia’s “Orgy Scene”.  Watching that scene was one of the more awkward moments of my life and I wasn’t even the one between the sheets. Increasing my discomfort was the fact that I ended up watching it with a completely random old lady. It seems to be some sort of universal rule that old ladies will be present during any unexpected and inappropriate event. Whether you are unwillingly exposed to lingerie adverts in the movies or swimsuit ads on the television at home, someone’s Gran will just happen to be there to cast you a disapproving glance as if you had been the sole cause of the entire distasteful occurrence.

The presence of old ladies in inappropriate situations isn’t the only constant in the universe. Even though a new year has begun, the rhythms of Stellenbosch will not be disrupted: Engineers will still go into social hiding only venturing out for class and the occasional Neelsie Sokkie; BA’s will still be roundly heckled for studying something that has nothing to do with money; Accountants will still force themselves to study something immensely boring in the hope of one day earning ridiculous amounts of money; Law Students will continue not reading the cases. Each of us has a role to fill in the great Circle of Stellenbosch.

[Cue Elton John]

Ek het laas week haelgeweer mounts op my motor aangebring. Volgende naweek gaan ek hom koeëlvas maak en kettingsaag lemme op die bumbers sit. Hierdie opgraderings vir die Nuwe Wêreld Orde kom nie goedkoop nie, maar dis te danke aan die goudprys wat so wisselvallig maar pragtig al hoe meer Noord-Oos dans. En sy gaan nog baie lank so mooi dans. Koop, voor dit te laat is. My oorle tant Serpneus se boedeltjie juwele kom nou erg handig in. Maar al hierdie wonderliek modifikasies is nie om my teen ander mense te beskerm nie, o nee, hierdie is vir die zombie apocalypse wat nie te vêr om die draai is nie, ook beken as die wederkoms. Die mense wat glo in die tipe van ding het my ingelig dat al die tekens daar is, of te wel daai ou in Oxford Circus wat dit heel jaar lank hardop uitbasuin. Apparently moet dit nog net renoster-grootte paddas reën wat poedel-grootte springkane ejakuleer wat weer op hulle beurt suurreën kots. En dan gaan daar een of ander lang-haar hippy wat so 2000 jaar terug gelewe het afvlieg uit die ruimte uit met 'n jetpack en dooie mense uit die graf gaan laat opstaan met inter-planetêre spirituële mojo geskenk deur John Travolta en kie. As hierdie ondood die strate begin loop moet 'n mens reg wees. Ek kan nie meer fokkin wag nie!

"A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual doom" - Martin Luther King Jr, April 4 1967.

Bogenoemde het verskyn in die April 2008 uitgawe van Die Stem, ‘n maandelikse koerant wat gratis versprei word in London.

Die Sorte Chenin Blanc hat ihren Ursprung an der Loire, soweit man es nachweisen kann, und bringt dort anerkannt hohe Qualitäten hervor. Berühmt sind trockener Jasnières, der bis zu zwanzig Jahre alt werden kann, oder die biodynamischen Weine von Joly. Chenin ist auch beliebt als Schaumwein, oft Bestandteil des Crément de Loire, und als Edelsüßer -- wer es mag. (Einen bemerkenswerten, prickelnden Samur von Bouvet-Ladubay hatte ich früher einmal vorgestellt). Jenseits der Loire versuchen sich viele Winzer der neuen Welt an dieser Traubensorte und ganz nach dem Motto, der Sinn der Rallye ist es, Flaschen zu kaufen, die ich sonst niemals angerührt hätte, fiel meine Wahl auf ein Exemplar aus Südafrika.

Der Mont Destin von 2005 aus Stellenbosch leuchtet goldgelb und dick im Glas wie Wein gewordener Krügerrand. Dick, voll und saftig ist er auch im Geschmack, woran der üppige Alkoholgehalt von 14 Prozent nicht ganz unbeteiligt ist. . . Hinzu kommt eine deutliche Süße, milde Säure, reife Früchte und eine leichte, feine Fassnote (sechs Monate Barrique). Das Aroma ist eher dezent, auch von Fass geprägt, Vanille, Anis, dann Melone, Pfirsich, Rosinen, Erdbeere, reife Töne, leicht mineralisch und eine Spur Eukalyptus. Obwohl er schon vier Jahre alt ist (Südhalbkugel) wirkt er noch jugendlich, wobei der Alkohol ihn vermutlich weitgehend konserviert.

Mir ist der Wein zu schwer, zu stark und erinnert mich an ein Nashorn, das durch die Steppe rennt. Alkohol wie auch Fass sind zwar gut eingebunden, aber schon ein zweites Glas macht mir zu schaffen. Insgesamt ist er eher rustikal und entspricht meinem Bild der neuen Weinwelt: Klare Frucht, Holz, eher süß, eher stark. Er könnte eine kräftige Lachssuppe oder Lachssauce zu Nudeln begleiten. Mit viel Sahne.

Fortunately it was lovely scenery but still. We managed to find a place and it's pretty and all that. So now we have to get cracking on all the other stuff. I don't even have a to-do list. Is that a bad thing? Or is it bad because my friend has a to-do list (for my wedding) and I don't?

This is going to descend into madness, I'm sure.

'n Trein is gerieflik: jy hoef nie te konsentreer op die verkeer op die pad nie, jy kan rustig lees, lekker gesels, aangaan met werk of bloot ontspan en die mense rondom jou dophou.

Baie mense is bang vir treinry in Suid-Afrika.  Dit is kwansuis gevaarlik.

Maar ek daag julle graag uit - klim een Saterdag saam met my op die trein - ons ry in die oggend deur Kaapstad toe, gaan fliek in die stad of drentel rond in Groentemarkplein, by die Adderleystraat blommeverkopers, of in die kunsgalery in die Tuine.  Ons stap tot in Kloofstraat en dan wys ek vir jou Arnold's waar 'n mens 'n English breakfast vir R8 kan bestel.

Of as jy in Kaapstad is, klim saam met my op die trein en ry deur tot by die Bolandse berge; kom saam op 'n wyntoer of drink koffie vir veels te lank in 'n Sondagkraal-restaurantjie se binnehof, of kom kyk 'n musiekuitvoering in die Endlersaal en draal op in Victoriastraat onder die laning bladverwisselende plataanbome.

(Kom op 'n reëndag - kom drink bossietee en steel die stoom se asem.)

Baie Suid-Afrikaanse kinders word so beskermend groot agter hoë mure en elektriese heinings dat hulle nooit die goeie, decent working class mense van Suid-Afrika sien of opreg beleef nie.

Kom ry saam met my trein; klim uit op die stasie, vat saam met my 'n taxi en pass jou kleingeld vorentoe.

Ek guarantee jou - jy sal nie gou weer kar wil ry nie.

* in antwoord op Karl se uitdaging.

As I drove along,  I noticed kids playing on the side of this national highway. There were about three groups made up of about 10 - 20 kids each. All of them were engaged in a game of soccer and seemed blissfully unaware that their playground was extremely dangerous. Ignorance is bliss, right?

For a few moments, I worried about their safety (and I continue to) but then my thoughts turned to the 2010 World Cup, and I felt sad.

These kids, and their families, who are the soccer-lovers of this country, will never be able to support their country come 2010. They cannot afford it. Isn't it ironic that SA is hosting the world cup for foreigners. Our own people will have to watch it on TV as if it were in another country.

And whats even more troubling - surely the money spent (billions of it) on this event would be better off going to the kids playing on the side of the N2? How is this event going to benefit South Africans in the long run?

This video on YouTube, allegedly taken from CCTV show just what a shining example our police are to the rest of the world. Notice how courteous they are to the terrified students. Shoving them to the ground and all. Also at one point you can see one of the cops firing off a gun at the ceiling. Considering how placid these kids were, I really don't know why that was necessary.

Of course, as always, the Police spokesperson, Elliot Sinyangana, puts everything into perspective and avoids the subject by simply confirming the raids and saying that a considerable amount of drugs had been confiscated.

Yeah totally, a few drugs completely justifies the brutal actions of the cops. Students are coming forward and claiming that they were thrown against walls, pepper sprayed while lying on the ground, pistol whipped and, according to some of the chicks, were sexually violated. Sorry boys and girls, you had a few drugs on you, of course you should be violated!

Pffft.

And people wonder why most of us don't take the cops seriously.

On a happier note, despite being all drugged up to prevent snot running out of my nose and all over my shirt, my interview went great yesterday and the Goblin now has to work. Well, it's called work, but it could be worse. I write all day long.

Guns were fired, people beaten up, blood shed and now 40 people are suing the Police force for injuries, assault and battery... ah and this is normal police practice.

Sometimes I get so sad for the world that it brings me to tears, it makes me cry in agony for not being able to make the world change, peoples agony filters through me in waves - sad case I am I know but that is who I am and I wouldn't change that how about you?

Guess its one step at a time

Sorry I am just in such shock!

Maties tell of cop terror 10/03/2008 07:17 - (SA)

Stephan Matthee and Jason Boswell, Die BurgerStellenbosch - The heavy-handed behaviour of police in drug busts in three night spots might end up in court after various partygoers lodged complaints against the police.The raids took place in the Mystic Boer, Bohemia and the Springbok Pub early on Saturday morning.According to police, drugs were found in all three places. Reports claim that the police used pepper spray and fired shots. Female partygoers were allegedly searched by a male policeman. Police spokesperson Elliot Sinyangana said the drug busts, at about 01:00, yielded six pieces of hashish, 150g dagga and some cocaine. He said that no one had been arrested because the drugs that were found had been left behind in the clubs. Sinyangana added that complaints over police conduct would be investigated thoroughly. Among those allegedly manhandled in Bohemia were a Belgian poet and a Dutch author. Cellphone recording The police apparently ordered students to destroy cellphone recordings of the raids. Some students claim their cellphones were broken. Video recordings from closed-circuit television cameras in two of the popular night spots show how the police stormed in with guns and shoved both male and female students around without them putting up any resistance. They also show the police spraying pepper spray in students' faces while they were sitting on the ground. "You can't search my vagina!" a distressed female student cried out, according to one of the barmen at Bohemia, who added that the girl had been pawed by the police. Asthmatics and diabetics told how they had been prevented by the police from seeking medical treatment. Jan Oberholzer, co-owner of Bohemia, said that there were holes in the ceiling of the establishment which were "seemingly bullet holes". The video material clearly shows shots being fired as the police storm in. Threatened with shotguns Sinyangana said no shots had been fired. Eyewitnesses said that the police had guns - including shotguns - with them at all times and that these were used to threaten, push and even hit students. Although the police later said that the weapons had not been loaded, a cartridge was removed from the street outside the Springbok Pub after a policeman reloaded his weapon and the cartridge fell out. Willem Coertzen, owner of Mystic Boer, who had been handcuffed and reportedly knocked in the face with a gun, said that the police had done the same sort of thing last year and had got away with it. "The difference is that we have video evidence this time." A law student, Gillian Armstrong, said she had been beaten, sprayed with pepper spray and thrown to the ground. Woman pulled by her hair Eyewitnesses told how a female student had been hit by a police officer because she had been "in his way". A shocked woman, who only identified herself as Adel, told how she was slapped and beaten several times by a police officer. Eyewitnesses told how a woman was pulled across the street by her hair. After the police realised that photos and videos had been captured on cellphones, they tried to force the students to destroy the evidence by threatening them that they would be detained.

[09:39:56] <Nosferatu> I'm gonna become a cop one day so I have the right to beat people up
[09:40:22] <Anonymous student 1> ja and fire shotgun rounds in the roof
[09:40:35] <Anonymous student 1> that is very cool
[09:40:36] <Nosferatu> sounds like fun
[09:40:36] <IRJoker> my god man, that is all we need, people to be inspired by the ignorace and brutality of the Police beating people down
[09:41:20] <Anonymous student 1> ja in the old days you joined the army to fire clips at random unidentified people
[09:41:27] <Anonymous student 1> now we can join the police

Die Stellenbosse polisiemag is oor die algemeen baie nonchalant teenoor studente. In my eerstejaar is daar byvoorbeeld by my kar ingebreek. Ek het die polisie dadelik in kennis gestel, maar is begroet met 'n baie nuttelose: "meneer, het jy 'n saaknommer?" (hoe kan ek 'n saaknommer hê as die misdaad sopas gebeur het?) en later: "ag meneer, wil jy nie maar eerder hierdie saak los nie?" Sweer. Ek het al van 'n hele paar gevalle gehoor waar studente vir iets soos vandalisme in selle gegooi word. Dan het hulle 'n vullisdrom omgestamp. Dis mos baie makliker om 'n dronklap vas te trek as 'n rower.

Bygesê, hulle is natuurlik nie net sleg nie. Toe ek verlede jaar in Bloemfontein beroof is, het 'n Stellenbosse polisieman later baie moeite gedoen om my op die nippertjie vir versekeringsdoeleindes te help. (Ek weet nie of jy dit ooit gaan lees nie, meneer, maar dankie. Ek waardeer dit.) Maar dit was, in my persoonlike ervaring, 'n uitsondering. Daar heers tog 'n mate van apatie by polisiemanne teenoor studente.

Hoe kom 'n mens agter die kap van so 'n byl? My vermoede is dat, benewens moontlike korrupsie (wat seker maar orals posvat) dit 'n geval is van afguns teenoor jong, rykgat laaities wat in 'n idilliese borreltjie lewe en hulle geld wegdrink. Hel, as ek 'n polisieman was het ek ook van tyd tot tyd so 'n paar gaan voeter. Dis jaloesie, dink ek. Afguns. Plein en simpel.

Of dit reg is, is 'n volgende storie.

On Friday night the Mystic Boer, Bohemia and Springboks were raided by the police.  After many incidents from which police brutality and harrassment charges will spawn, police allegedly found only a small plastic bank bag and two joints of dagga, and three grams of hashish, at the clubs. (Karen Breytenbach, Cape Times, Page 1, 10 March 2008).

 Die Burger (10 March 2008, Stephan Matthee and Jason Boswell) reports that the raids yielded six pieces of hashish, 150g dagga and some cocaine.

 By the way, all this was found left behind so no one was arrested.

 Patrons of the clubs were also instructed to delete all evidence off their cellphones.  Mmm... are they worried about incriminating evidence?

 All I can say is: what a wicked Friday night out.

Bringing you all the news and scandal

kissKISSkiss

"Let's dialogue about important issues, guys!" (I could still hear the groans of my 7th grade peers going... oh god... what is she getting us into THIS time...)

And I started writing, wrote the first line and passed it down.

And this... is the transcript of what came out on our first train experience in South Africa.

Date: 23 February 2008

1: I wonder if we could make the train into a dance party - everyone hittin' the (platform) floor...

2: Notice how you wrote your date? Transforming into an Afrikaaner?

1: Just trying to assimilate to a culture - plus, we speak the slang (tief, ek sow yo snay!), so why not write the date? :) ...everyone is looking at us - as if they're suspicious. Even when we're quiet, not flashy, we stand out like a sore thumb - white, carrying bags as though noting to everyone that we have belongings to take with us, enough privilege to be able to worry about things like hygiene and our looks.

2: First off, wasn't this supposed to be just one line?

1: Looking like you're not freaked out is the best plan [written while motioning to one girl who is making terrified faces and squirming and generally calling attention to her nervous, uncomfortable self]

3: (girl that is uncomfortable) It's all in my head. I am just freaked out. I'm a minority right now. Ah!

1: I think it feels good. We live in a world where even when white is a minority, it's the elite group. It feels nice, for once, to be put out of that comfort zone. I hate living in the bubble of pre-determined "superiority." It's bull--

2: Maybe bull---, but it's comfort. I like/prefer comfort. I do realize how we are viewed and what benefits we get as being white. What can I personally do to change that? As in any society no one can truly be equal. You can make small differences in your day to day life with the people you encounter. Beyond that I can't do enough.

3: I like that. So... I'm excited for dinner. tonight will be a good night. I'm not so scared anymore.

4: Despite how much time we've spent here [in Stellenbosch], I still feel like a tourist, being white and all. I wish we could all be the same color (I know, it's a little naive). Especially after visiting the township. Have you been yet?

5: Your head is making my head crazy.

6: Galen's a strange one...

3: Our ride is coming to an end. Hooray. Thank the Lord. I could go for a nap now. I'm a bit sleepy. O man, us girls are getting crunk tonight!

7: Yes, for sure dawg.

3: The woman across from me -- her hair looks like a sea urchin -- from the Little Mermaid (don't look up!)

2: Love the Little Mermaid!! Watched it a few weeks before I left. I was Ariel when I was little in the pool and the bathtub and the creek (total Dub-V right there!). .... hey I'm pretty sure we were supposed to be really talking about real issues.

1: eh. the transgression from race relations in south africa to getting 'crunk' to the little mermaid - i mean, i think we hit ALL the important issues in life!

and thus concludes the story of what happens when 13 students on a train try to talk about serious issues in a notebook.

or better - what happens when a nerd is on the loose on a fun weekend trip with a bunch of fellow college students :)

Ik heb een rustige week gehad; vooral bezig geweest met registreren voor cursussen en projecten. Ze zijn hier niet zo happig op internetregistraties, dus het is een constante uitdaging om uit te dokteren waar je formulieren kan ophalen, hoe je ze moet invullen en waar je ze moet inleveren.

Mijn voorlopig lessenrooster ziet er zo uit: maandag 17-20u Internationaal strafrecht, dinsdag 10-13u Transitional Justice (dat neem ik  als keuzevak: lijkt me superinteressant; gaat over veroordeling van oorlogsmisdadigers in post-conflict gebieden enzo) en dan donderdag 18-20u internationale kinderrechten. Weinig uren les hier, maar naar’t schijnt veel voorbereiding nodig dus kga wel wa harder moeten werken voor ’t school dan in Antwerpen.

All work and no play...zou ni leuk zijn en gelukkig is dat gevaar nogal klein hier. Donderdag was het hier “Venster”. De Zuid-Afrikaanse studenten wonen samen in “koshuize” dat is zo iets als een studentenhome bij ons. Er zijn er voor jongens, meisjes en gemengde. De eerstejaars (dat zijn er soms wel tachtig) van elk koshuis bereiden een act voor, versieren de gevel van hun huis en doen dan een hele avond dansjes en optredens, terwijl de andere studenten van huis tot huis lopen en alles bekijken. Die avond merkte je pas echt hoeveel studenten er zijn in Stellenbosch! Het was heel gezellig!

Zaterdag was er een muziekfestivalletje met Afrikaanse muziek! Zalig weer, toffe sfeer en veel mensen! Ik versta toch ni veel van da Afrikaans hoor, zeker in gezongen versie, maar de muziek was wel leuk. Diezelfde avond was er nog een BBQ in de tuin van enkele internationale studenten. Toch elke keer weer nieuwe gezichten en interessante ontmoetingen.

Zondag sportdag! Ik ben lid geworden van ISOS , dat is de internationale studentenvereniging in Stellenbosch en die organiseren allerhande activiteiten. De eerste was een fiets/wandeltocht. Ze hadden een “makkelijk” parcours uitgestippeld: na een uur bergoptrappen  alsof mijn leven er van af hing, kwam er een wandeling van 3 uur en dan gelukkig een terugrit die hoofdzakelijk bergaf ging, maar toch ook in een stevig tempo. Het was wel leuk om terug wat steviger te sporten, maar ik ben nu zo stijf als een hark.

Vanavond heb ik mijn eerste les en ik ga proberen om vandaag wat aan mijn paper voor zakenrecht te werken...proberen...  :-)