2 A.M. Ramblings

My internal clock is all messed up, which was probably not helped any by the fact that the folks on the block decided to have a big party. I was awakened by the sound of firecrackers and "Blame It" (song by Jamie Foxx) and very, very loud yelling. I'm not as adventurous as you all might think, so I did not go outside to investigate. I figured there is a reason my guest house sits behind guard-protected gates.

I slowly pulled back the curtain (because, look -- I wasn't 100% certain as to whether those were firecrackers or gunshots. It was 2 am, and I have lived in some rough places) and peeked outside. The street was lined with cars and people and booze. My kind of place. I would have joined in, but I was sooo tired. And my hair was, well, slept in.

Unfortunately, I could not return to sleep. So here I am, sitting on Blogger, rehashing my first day in Johannesburg.

I had a walkabout around Melville, a swanky neighborhood that is a few miles away from Wits University. There are coffee shops, bars, restaurants, guest houses, and shops that are reminiscent of any swanky neighborhood in any large American city, only these all have a uniquely African flair. Gentlemen sell multicolored crafts on the street corner (in fact, they will run out into traffic at an intersection and try to sell you various other items while you wait for the light to change).

I went to the corner store to purchase a SIM card for my phone, and the store owner was a lovely Muslim Indian man who apparently spends a lot of time in Las Vegas. He talked about the casinos and the "filthpeddlers" and the delicious food. His name was Ahmad, and I when I introduced myself, his eyes lit up: "Yours is a beautiful Muslim name!" Thank you, sir. (And thanks, Mom and Dad, for giving me such a great name.)

I cannot say enough about how friendly and hospitable South Africans are. When my ride (my program coordinator) was late picking me up from the airport, a kindly gentleman from Pretoria offered me his phone so I could call him. And then he offered me a ride (which I did not accept) into Johannesburg, which would have taken him an hour out of his way. The guest house keeper offered to give me a tour of Melville on his scooter. Everyone you pass on the street greets you with a smile. The fact of their affable demeanor did not completely disarm my city girl defenses; I was polite and I smiled, but I never made eye contact. Which made me wonder -- are Americans less friendly than everyone else in the world?

At 5, I went to dinner with my professor -- an expert on South African, international, and comparative law. He is a dry-witted New Yorker, who has, after spending the last ten summers in South Africa, become intimately familiar with South African culture, politics, and -- most importantly -- wine. We drank a bottle of a local varietal (I don't remember the name) over dinner and conversation. He was impressed that I had decided to write my note about the Chinese being declared black as a matter of law. "I didn't think anyone in the States even paid attention to that decision," he told me, smiling.

(Oh my -- this party crowd just got a little rowdy. I think it may have descended into the inevitable after-party fight. I can't really tell, however, because the yelling is being done in another language. )

Later today, I will go exploring beyond Melville before it is time for me to move into my dorm room. Hopefully, I will shake my self-consciousness about looking like a tourist and take some pictures. FYI, Johannesburg is 9 hours ahead of you Las Vegas folks, and 6 ahead of my east coast peoples. I've been in all 3 time zones this past week. Oy vey . . .