Franco Un-American and You Live, You Learn

I never cease to be amazed by my fellow members of the Millennium Generation. You have people like my best friend who genuinely cares about other people. She is going to be a nurse- she will more than likely save a few lives, maybe deliver a couple of babies, but all in all she will be someone that other people appreciate. She is focused on what she wants out of life. She doesn’t spend each weekend evening drunk as a skunk in her apartment or out at a bar. There are also people like me. I am super paranoid and especially careful. I refuse to put myself in a situation where I might get hurt or terribly regret something I might have done. Like my best friend, I do not go out on the weekends and get plastered. When I’m at school, my roommates and I go out to dinner, go to movies, and occasionally go dancing. Sure we sometimes drink (mind you it is legal). Alcohol is an easy way to forget the worries of the week and help you relax with friends.

Unfortunately (and unlike my best friend and myself) there also seems to be a majority of young people who have absolutely no accountability. Here in South Africa, I am amazed that an extraordinary percentage of my American classmates feel comfortable enough to get absolutely plastered in this foreign country with other Americans who they have known for three days. We went to dinner at a beautiful restaurant last night: Mutu. It was buffet style dining- stations included venison, meat, chicken, vegetables, salads, stews, and desserts. While there I had a delicious chickpea concoction, springbok on a kabob (the national animal of South Africa), green beans, salad, and cheesecake. What I did not do at this beautiful restaurant, in this gorgeous country, on an insanely clear summer night was drink until I was laughing and stumbling and giggly around the room.

Does this make me a bad young person? Maybe… But I really don’t care. And I’m sick of watching other people behave this way. Luckily, I found a minority at the restaurant- a group of other American students who were not into acting like monkeys while in South Africa. I hate to think what the parents of these people would think if they saw their children behaving this way. For a girl (no older than 20 or 21) to get on a bus screaming and giggling to each passenger about how badly she wanted to go out is ridiculous. I shudder to think about what would have to happen for this girl to realize how pitiful and unnecessary her behavior is. I know my community has witnessed multiple times what can happen when immaturity and poor decision-making is mixed with too much alcohol. Personally, I have friends who I know have suffered after not being careful enough while partying.

What is even more astounding is that we are in a foreign country. This girl has no idea where she is or where she is going. Similarly, this girl doesn’t know anyone here. It isn’t like at home where I would be comfortable getting drunk as a skunk after a horrible week because I know I have friends who I can trust to keep me safe. That girl on the bus doesn’t know anyone here and she doesn’t know that she can trust any of them.

In the end, I guess it isn’t any of my business. People can do what works for them and I will continue to do what makes me happy and comfortable.

Despite the sometimes ridiculous behavior of my peers, Cape Town is amazing. It is so beautiful and I can’t believe I live here. Internet is super spotty. I’ve only been on once since Tuesday. I’m currently writing this on a word document and I will publish it when I find Internet. Today is Saturday and earlier we moved into our permanent housing. Let me just say that I am glad I mentally prepared myself for not living like a queen here in South Africa. My room itself is fine. They gave us sheets and bedding- which I admit is kind of sketch and I will most definitely be washing it before I sleep on it. Thank God I brought my own blankie! But the bathrooms are… less than extraordinary. I just went to take a shower only to discover that there is no shower curtain- the shower head points directly to the middle of the bathroom. So I went to the bathtub in the next room. Is it just me or is it weird to bathe in another man’s bathtub? Well I just keep telling myself, “This is Africa.” So I went with it. I decided to take under advice what the Italian woman told Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love regarding heating the water and taking a bath, “Everything that’s important gets covered.” I filled up the bath with a couple inches of cool water, jumped in, scrubbed myself with soap, washed my hair under the facet and hopped back out! I’m not exaggerating when I say that I was pretty proud of myself.

People are going out tonight for a girl’s birthday. I don’t know the girl so I am not particularly inclined to go. I’m quite exhausted, mildly sunburned, and my shin splints are killing me (it was the running all over campus uphill, Mom!). I think I will sleep soundly tonight with my freshly washed hair gracing my bear and blankie after popping Eat, Pray, Love into my computer.

All for now.

Attempt to take a bath in 3 or 4 inches of cold water and let me know how you do.

Best of luck,

Britt.