A garden, a sandwich, a story...

...I awoke today to a horn beeping in the drive. I went outside to find our rental car being delivered. We had wheels and a plan. After a coffee and fruit breakfast, we set off for the Botanical gardens. The ride was wonderfully uneventful. Once there, we went for a nice walk and learned some of the local flora. In this arid climate succulents and other water conserving plants seem to flourish. Some of them looked quite bizarre resembling illustrations in a Dr. Seuss book.
Our path meandered through well manicured formal gardens, waterfronts, and open playing fields complete with amateur rugby players and bike riders. We left for the apartheid museum, but never made it. On the way we stopped for lunch and found a lovely cafe in a neighborhood where we were already familiar. That's when it happened, our waiter mistakenly brought me a sandwich that was not what I ordered but perhaps the closest thing to divine intervention I had ever experienced. Ingredients: smoked salmon, ripe avocado, goat cheese, tomato, onion, lettuce, and two kinds of caviar on ciabatta bread, all for the price of a sandwich at Subway. Not sure if words can describe, the ones I know don't suffice.

The moral of the story is that the deprivation I expected to endure in South Africa has been replaced by a feeling of extreme privilege. Though I am not a wealthy individual in the States, by default or perhaps the color of my skin I am in a higher socio-economic class here. Interactions with the individuals on the other side of this disparity are often fleeting and involve exchanges of small amounts of money such as 5 dollars for oranges and avocados sold through the car window at a busy intersection. The same interactions happen in restrooms where cleanliness is maintained by semi-official janitors, and parking lots where cars are overseen by security guards with jovial attitudes who expect a dollar or so for payment. It seems this is an understood part of how society tries to provide for the people from the impoverished areas of Johannesburg. After conversing with our friend who has lived here a year, it is clear the the wounds of apartheid have not healed and the disparities that exist probably wont resolve for quite some time. After our experiences today, Ashleigh and I determined it was our responsibility to provide something towards the livelihood of the less fortunate. The relative affluence that accompanies us now is an awkward position for two nursing students accustomed to scrounging for rent money and memorizing the best beer specials in Charlottesville ....