South Africa Journal: Day 1

I've been remiss in typing up my notes about my spectacular vacation in South Africa.

First of all, I know what you're thinking, and the answer is yes, I did sing Hakuna Matata all over the country. I also did my best Homer Simpson to wryly comment, "Oh...Africa," as often as possible. Anyway, I plan to share the Hakuna Matata moments, Oh Africa moments, advice on attending a world cup, and insights from my lovely travel companion Justine on South Africa.

Without further ado...THURSDAY JUNE 10

I flew from DC to JFK...which is a 3rd world airport and a national embarrassment. Who runs this place? The empty duty free shops are open all day but only one food store is open with a line of almost everyone waiting for a flight? Fascinating business model. There's no info on where to pick up connecting flights and to get to the proper international terminal I have to walk through a side door located behind a temporary construction wall with no construction going on.

Then I flew to Johannesburg/Jozi/Joburg. On my flight, everyone was watching an episode of Lie to Me. I love this show's concept: Basically a good actor stares down C Listers and analyzes their bad acting. Magically this is woven into the plot. Each exchange ends with this gem:
Tim Roth: Thank you for your assistance
Bad Actor: But I haven't told you anything.
Tim Roth: BUT YOU'VE TOLD ME EVERYTHING!

HAKUNA MATATA: I had one of those classic only-in-America moments in JFK that makes me love my country more than The Dirty Dozen on Memorial Day. Seated at the gate to fly to South Africa were: 3 Argentinian brothers in soccer jumpsuits like the Royal Tenenbaums, a Hasidic Jew wearing crocs and, I swear to God, humping the air at random occasions as a nervous tic, the WASPiest 20-something to ever wrinkly khakis proudly wearing his Onyewu jersey (for the soccer illiterate, Onyewu is the biggest, blackest guy on the US team), a guy in a NASCAR hat and a t-shirt of Arnold Schwarzennegar smoking marijuana, a guitar-wiedling granola girl doing taichi at the airport window, the only guy in America who owns an MLS shirt happy to be rleevant for a month because he knows why Freddy Adu isn't on the squad, and then a horde of Mexicans. And finally, my aisle neighbor on the plane - a young black kid whose only carry-on for the 14 hour flight was an i-pod and two drumsticks.

This is why I love America most - not the republic, not some vision of what it once was or what it might be. All these are noble, but I love it most for what it is, because these people are home.

OH, AFRICA: Customs involved me walking under a sign that read customs. That is all.

TIP ON WORLD CUP ATTENDANCE: Traveler's checks are an anachronism.

JUSTINE'S ADVICE ON SOUTH AFRICA: Leave your expensive laptop at home. Whether it gets stolen or not, there are internet usage limits.