All of the Lights

Turn up the lights in here, baby
Extra bright, I want ya'll to see this
You know what I need, want you to see everything,
Want you to see all of the lights
Fast cars, shooting stars
Until it's Vegas everywhere we go
All of the lights
-Kanye West


I feel like a little girl lost in a big city. Even Maputo, the big capitol city of Moz, is nothing like this. Instead of muted buildings, uneven roads, faded traffic lights, I see tall shiny buildings, sleek paved roads, blinking pedestrian walkways, vibrant colors. I'm in Cape Town, South Africa! From third world to first world... and what a world of difference, indeed.

At the airport, I stare in awe at the glass elevator. I squeal “smoothies!” as we pass by a smoothie booth. I am bewildered by all of the white people surrounding me. I'm overstimulated- my attention is being pulled in too many directions all at once and I feel like a bunny on crack. A moth attracted to light. A child unsupervised in a candy shop. It's all so overwhelming.

We head up to our terminal on the 3rd floor but on the 2nd floor I absentmindedly step off the escalator and without thinking, advance towards the glowing shops and restaurants while bewildered Kevin calls after me, asking me where I'm going. While passing through customs, I sidle up right behind the guy standing at the counter before Kev draws my attention to the yellow tape that marks where the line forms and where I should be waiting. While going through security, I get flustered because I can't remember what items I'm supposed to take out of my bag before putting it on the conveyor belt. Little signs here and there remind me that I've been gone from this high-tech world for over a year.

I've talked about food- steak, sushi, burgers, cheese, mashed potatoes- for so long, it seems amazing that when the time comes, I have three bites of my thick cheese-laden hamburger and feel full, even slightly sick. I guess you can't go from eggs eggs eggs to real meat, just like that. I drink a cream-topped Irish coffee and a cream- blended pina colada that give me diarrhea and terrible stomach cramps for a whole afternoon, and give me the realization that I have become at least partially lactose-intolerant.

Kev and I stay at a quaint Bed & Breakfast that has high-tech sensor gate keys, fast wireless internet, and a glorious view of Table Mountain. I'm in love with the wide silver shower head that blesses me at least twice a day with hot rain; I don't know if I can go back to bucket bathing for another year. Breakfast consists of poached eggs and arugula, honeyed granola, plain yogurt, fresh fruit medley (banana, strawberry, papaya, passion fruit, Cape gooseberry- which looks like a yellow cherry tomato with a sweet tarty flavor), wheat toast, real butter, brewed coffee. I'm in heaven. The only problem- it's a litter colder than I envisioned, and I've only got capulana dresses to wear. I've brought all of the halter and strapless tops and above-the-knee skirts to wear in South Africa, where I won't be rudely gawked at.

We tour the city on an open-top bus, hopping on and off wherever we like. We pass by mountain, city, beach, all intertwined. Everywhere we go, my bulky camera goes click click click, and Kevin laughs at me because he can tell I've missed having it. We stroll through the craft market square, where we mentally convert prices back and forth from Rand, Dollar, and Metical, and I make him buy me two necklaces. We have all-you-can-eat sushi for dinner and drink our bottle of white port back at the hotel.

Tomorrow: penguins, cable car to the top of Table Mountain, beach, more shopping- who knows? We're in a world of infinite possibilities.