Fate smiles again.

One of the concerns that a person has when setting up a life in a foreign country is hoping that you will meet somebody decent to set up a digs with. You hope that you will meet somebody that you will get along with, who is like-minded in their habits and will generally add to the adventure of teaching in another country, rather then detract from it.

So naturally, before leaving SA to come to the US this played on my mind quite a bit. One, if not the biggest, blessing that I have had since arriving in the US then, has been the extremely fortuitous meeting with one, Javier Covo Grandes. Javier is from the Basque Country in Spain and is teaching Spanish at a local high school. Javier is a gentleman and a friend, and although he has no idea of how to cook paella, I am extremely grateful for meeting him and have no doubt that we will share many a beer and a laugh over the next year at least.

And we're back in business

Here we go. I have finally found a way to update this blog. It’s a Saturday morning here in Ashburn, Virginia, I am using my flat mate’s laptop and have picked up somebody’s unsecured wireless signal emitting from somewhere else in the complex. You do what you need to do.

Below are selected picks from my first trip into Washington DC. The centre of DC in my opinion doesn’t really have much going for it once you leave the mall. The mall being the incredibly long (and I know it’s long ‘cause I walked it) strip where all the major memorials and monuments to wars and presidents of the past are situated. This observation is based completely on one afternoon visit in the company of a hard to impress Aussie and a nonchalant Spaniard. I am told however that the bars, clubs and music venues just outside of DC are awesome. The only problem with that is that the cops here are seriously strict about drunk driving. Which is a good thing of course. There are far too many people in the world who have a tipple too many and think themselves bulletproof. So a big"good on ya" as they say in Australia, to the local policing authorities. Virginia has a project running at the moment called "Operation Strikeforce" ( I can just picture Chuck Norris heading up this particular operation, can't you?) to curb DUI incidents. So getting to these places, unless you have designated driver or are willing to pay an astronomical cab fare is not easy.

We went in on Sunday August 19 and had a little stroll around. Managed to miss most of the tourist flurrying. Can’t stand tourist myself! I thought I would try out the ‘black and white’ function on my camera in order to emphases the history of the places we were visiting.

The White House

We knocked but apparently George W was busy with a geography lesson and wasn't taking visitors. Just out of interest, apparently foreign visitors need to apply a month in advance through your local consolute to take a tour of the White House. So taking into consideration that my current immediate mates are comprised of an Aussie, a Canadian 2 Spaniards, a Costa Rican and a Colombian, I don't think we are getting inside in a hurry.

The Stars 'n Stripes in black 'n white at the base of the Washington Memorial

The Washington memorial. Apparently the worlds highest all-masonry structure. How long did they have to search before they found that little piece of info?

Two examples of the many metal engravings that adorn the World War 11 memorial. Each one is abot two meters by a meter in size.

Another view of the WWII memorial.

The Lincoln Memorial.

Uncle Abe

The National Mall viewed from the Lincoln Memorial with the Washington Memorial and Capitol Hill in the background.

Arlington National Cemetary. Final resting place of hundreds of thousands of soldiers, JFK and his family, including his brother. Also final resting place of the crew of the ill-fated Space Shuttle and the unknown soldier amongst many others.

JFK's eternal flame

My First American Cultural Experience

Need I say more?

Richmond, Virgina, USA.

So here I am in the big ol’ US of A. Twelve months after applying to the VIF program I finally boarded a plane and spent 24 hours in transit, eventually landing at Richmond Airport. Fate dealt a fortuitous card along the way and seated me next to the only other South African VIF teacher on the plane. So going through immigration and customs was a doddle and the wait in between flights was made a little easier. Since arriving here in Richmond it has been a veritable international smorgasbord. When not busy with various mundane administrative activities and trying to get my head around driving on the wrong side of the road, I have met Philipinos. Canadians, Argentineans and the usual Kiwis and Ausies who manage to sneak in everywhere. I took a walk about Richmond yesterday. It is an interesting mix of historical architecture and modern expression. The area is rich in American history and there are loads of museums. I took a walk about some of the nearby roads and took a couple of interesting photos. The dairy building is obvious but the most interesting thing was the metal sculpture adorning the Richmond Police Headquarters.

Curious Culture

I am not sure if this is a world wide phenomenon, but it is strangely true for South Africa. There is a curious bond that binds complete strangers for a brief but intimate few seconds and then disappears again until a new random opportunity presents itself again for another fleeing moment.

Let me take a step back here and set the scene that for you. I woke up on Sunday morning and decided (ironically, with onset of winter just around the corner) that it would be a good day to get my running regime back into shape. As I live a few hundred meters from the beach front (I can feel your envy), what more desirable setting could you ask for as the back drop to my re-entry to the running world? With my fluorescent orange running shoes laced up, my moisture wicking running shorts and shirt comfortably adjusted, I found myself on that part of the beach where the sand is still firm enough from the pre-dawn high tide to provide a comfortable running surface. The fresh sea air, tinged with a taste of kelp rushed into my lungs as I headed down the beach.

As I ran along I passed one or two other people out walking in the early morning but for all intents and purposes they didnt even register in my mind. Then out of the distance a blue-clad figure slowly emerged running towards me. As this complete stranger passed, it happened. There was momentary eye contact and an almost imperceptive head nod, all part of an unspoken acknowledgement of the brotherhood of runners that we were both part of. We continued on our paths and never saw each other again.

I have experienced this same phenomenon under other circumstances too, and with more regularity. On many of my sporadic bike rides I will pass other cycling enthusiasts. For that split second there is the subtle, yet obligatory, nod of the head or a slight hand gesture indicating that acknowledgment of the fraternity of cyclists.

Other instances in which I have witnessed this strange phenomenon was while behind the wheel my friend Roy’s Land Rover Defender. Barrelling down highways en route to one of our annual weekends of camping and testosterone filled festivity; I occasionally passed other Land Rover Defender drivers. Just as we passed each other there was a quick flick of the headlights, a nod of the head and once again that shared moment of acknowledgment of the secret clan of Land Rover Defender drivers. Note that it was not shared with Land Rover Discovery drivers nor Land Rover Range Rover drivers nor any other 4x4 vehicle that we passed.

What is so interesting, and equally sad, in all of this is that when we pass any of these same bonded strangers in an aisle in the supermarket, or stand behind them in the queue to buy tickets for a movie, we don’t give each other the slightest acknowledgment. We rather hush our voices or avert our eyes. It could very well be the same runner I passed on the beach, or the cyclist who overtook me on a trail, or a fellow Land Rover Defender driver who passed me on the highway that morning, the reaction is the same. Blissful ignorance! It seems that by not having shields in the form of our signifying outfits or our tell-tale equipment with us, that politeness and cordiality becomes too much to ask.

Sometimes a t-shirt says it all

Being part of an email network has as its bonuses. I do find myself sifting through lame jokes and endless repeated chain mail rubbish but every so often I get something that I really identify with and makes me laugh. The first is my absolute favourite. (Sorry Haley Joel!) I am definitely going to get a T-shirt printed and wear it whenever I move house and some daft neighbour comes up to me and asks, "Are you moving?" No you idiot, every now and then I just like to pack all my stuff into boxes to see how many I can fill!"

Toyota vs Porsche

I had one of the most exhilarating experience last week. I was stopped at a traffic light in my sensibly rebellious dirty white Toyota when a sexy silver grey Porsche pulled up next to me. Like most red blooded males, I looked across in admiration and took in the sleek lines, the low profile and the gleam off the chrome mags. I listened as the engine purred like a hungry feline watching gazelles drinking at a watering hole. Shielding my eyes from the brilliance of this machine I peered at the drivers seat and smiled appreciatively as the gorgeous blond driver applied some lipstick in the review mirror. The caveman in me suddenly had to defend its territory. I slid down low in my seat and brought my elbow in from the window in order to maximise my aerodynamics. I carefully revved the engine as I pulled my sunglasses off of the top of my head and expertly placed them over my eyes. I slowly glanced across at this vixen who had the audacity to challenge my manliness. Keeping my sun shielded eyes on this temptress I put my car into first gear and then with a determined turn of the head fixed my eye on the traffic light. The light suddenly flicked to green, I dropped the clutch and layed down half a months salary worth of rubber on the road leaving the Porsche to cough and splutter embarrassingly in my smoke. My heart was racing as the adrenaline coursed through my body in victorious defiance. I must be humble though and admit that it was not a fair fight! If only the driver of the Porsche knew we we racing!!!!!