Visceral Time

Anyone who has spent enough time out traveling for long periods of time might know what I mean by visceral time. It's part of what happens while backpacking for long periods (at least a month) when you lose all sense of time and start to run on a more physical, visceral clock. You begin to run on your gut feelings; eat when hungry, sleep when tired, and wake up when you feel like it (actually, when I normally explain this the saying goes, eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, and get laid when you're lucky, but my family reads this, damnit!).

Actually, if you've ever had jet lag you at least know what it's like to lose a sense of time. Yet most people see this as very disorienting. Indeed, I'd say a lot of travellers resist the move to lose one's self and abandon the world of clearly delineated time altogether. Maybe I'm more susceptible than others since I don't bother to wear let alone own a watch anyhow. But I thoroughly enjoy those times when time as we know it is gone and I just seem to go with the flow.

In Laos I think I either became aware of this for the first time or I simply found a wonderful combination of place and pace. At any rate, for my time in SE Asia in general I simply wandered and let things move me as they came. I remember my time in the 10,000 islands in southern Laos near the Cambodian border, living on some little island in the Mekong River in a bamboo hut with absolutely no idea or care for the time. I had a couple of books, I had my morning coffee, and I had my hammock. I had a routine but nothing was planned and it all sort of fell together. I awoke when I could hear the morning fishermen doing their thing from my not so thick walls. I then wandered off to the only cafe serving in the morning and met the few other foreigners there for breakfast and our usual round of betting on the nationality of any newcomer wandering in by canoe (I got rather good at that). Evening started by wandering to the other side of the island to watch the sunset over Cambodia and have a beer. Nights were spent playing cards, shooting the shit, and drinking beers. The next day it was the same all over again. I don't quite remember how long this lasted as I only kept a vague idea of the date so as not to overstay my visa but it was by far the most pleasant experience of my life.

One night I met a few very French looking French men (very Gallic noses all of them. Plus a predilection for smoking). In the middle of playing cards someone asked what time it was. One of them looking rather bemused said "we don't know... We don't care" and went back to his cards. I liked that....

So why this story now? Well, I guess I really enjoy those moments at home and abroad when I find myself rather unaware of time (though when I confuse Wednesday for, say, Friday at home my friends can get a little miffed- jealous?). I also have been keenly aware that I've moved onto a bizarre form of visceral time in South Africa and I think I need to get off of it! Bizarre because I am doing work here yet never seem to manage a real plan or path to my day. I have no watch and I cannot seem to find an alarm clock. As such, I wake up when nature tells me to, or when the damn dogs next door drive me nuts and force me out of bed. It's usually around 10 or 11, which is about the same as home. But then it's off to catch a shuttle- whose schedule is wholly unknown to me- to the library where I work until my stomach tells me it's time to eat. Then I wander back to find a shuttle and wait, and wait, and wait, and ask myself why I don't bother to look up the damn schedule until the bus arrives and I go home to eat. Each time I get picked up and then dropped off next to the Groote Schuur (wonderful pronunciation, by the way) hospital where, with regularity, I ponder the unfortunate happenstance or poor planning that led to a rather large hospital being located directly in front of a cemetery. It is quite a juxtaposition...

Off to digress (I do have to fit it all in, ya know). The other day I found that the bright sky, warm sun, and slight breeze was simply too much and decided that I must get my ass out of the biblioteek and up Table Mountain. And so I did. I did not, however, realise (or I simply chose to forget) the complete ineptitude and stupidity of my roommates and opted to go with them to Table Mountain. (I cannot explain such idiocy here so I won't). At any rate, what I thought would be a nice cable car ride to the top and much walking around up top turned into a mildly unwise hike UP the bloody mountain. Unwise because we were told that it would take 2 to 3 hours and that we most likely would not be able to take the cable way down- meaning a 6 hour maximum return hike. It was already 2 and we only had a single bottle of water and it's dark by 6. But after being accused of being a lazy American (by the very people who drive the three blocks to the market, mind you) I decided to hike up with them. One dropped out halfway through and the other had to bum money to take the cable car down, which fortunately was running. But I did make it to the top! And it was worth it. It may be the only place where one can stand and see two oceans (Atlantic and Indian) divided by a small strip of land.

The trip to and from the cable car also allowed me to see a part of Cape Town that is truly nice. All this time I've felt that Cape Town is a nice place but nowhere I'd ever live. Having spent some time in the Gardens area just below the Mountain I'd say I think I might have found the best part of town. Sure every house still has barred windows but it's all quite clean and pleasant. I know that sounds all trite and banal but it was a nice section of town with a great view of downtown and the bay and it felt distinctly South African for some reason (not to say that nothing else has. I only worried that it might simply be a replication of any modern city that simply looks and feels just like any American city). Well, I admit it did remind me- again- of parts of Athens....

What else? Hmmm... Not much, I guess. My roommate's stolen car was, however, found and is still sort of working! The cops think it was a joyride situation but I think that the decrepit state of the car left the thieves thinking they'd made a mistake so they dumped it. The damn radio was left in the car! Maybe they felt bad for the owner....