Travel Story : Tips for you learned the hard way.

I thought I'd visit a common phobia that I have run into a time or two with Americans: travelling abroad. Now I'm sure you're not one of these people, but you can't honestly say that you haven't met that bone-headed patriot that says, "Why would I ever leave America?" or "This is God's country...why would I ever need to go anywhere else?" or upon hearing something awful from overseas someone uttering the all too famous, "That's why you'll never catch me leaving this country." All of these and more are common reactions to the idea of travelling, even in this 21st century.

Most of you know that I have had the opportunity to do quite a bit of travelling. Most of my experiences and adventures brought fond and unforgettable memories. But it wouldn't be like me not to tell you a unique travel story; a story of a memory unforgettable but for all the wrong reasons. For those of you apprehensive of going abroad...STOP reading now. It is not my intention to keep my dear friends and family from seeing this miraculous world of ours. Go! Travel on! My intention here is to pass forward wisdom gained.

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I arrived in Cape Town, South Africa in the middle of the afternoon after nearly a 22 hr plane ride buried in seat 52C. I was thrilled to finally be on my feet and on my way to experiencing Africa. After being dropped off at my new apartment I was left alone with the only instructions being that if I decided to venture out on my first day that I was NOT to go into the bad part of town. Common sense told me not to argue with that one. Problem was, in what direction was the bad part of town? While completely exhausted, there was no way I was going to hold up inside for a day until my official welcoming the next morning. So I set off to explore. I had read travel books, prepared for certain sights and interests, but did not yet have my rental car or any idea where my apartment was in relation to anything else. I was one lost American. Bad thing is, everyone knew it! I had already broken the one crucial rule: being inconspicuous. I had left the apartment wearing my red OU Sooners baseball cap. (A no no for trying to look like a local. Such caps are purely an American fashion. I should have known better.)

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Just as luck would have it I immediately set out on a path directly into that part of town I was told to avoid. Really, could it be any other way? Anyway, from the stares and whisperings around me I quickly caught on that I might have made the wrong move. But where to go? I twisted and turned and followed the crowds but to no avail. I soon became the only Caucasian in the mix and I must be honest in admitting that I was more than a bit uncomfortable.

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Out of the corner of my eye I saw them coming. Two teenage kids approached asking for money. I had already read that when this occurs you are never to stop, but to keep walking, never make eye contact, and never give them money. I tried all of that but they were good. Begging, pleading, bumping, etc. they weren't budging. I repeatedly told them that I wasn't American and didn't have any money. (When travelling abroad I usually claim to be Canadian - not due to any shame or embarrassment, but because it works. Try it. You will be amazed at the difference in service and hospitality - especially in France.) I quickly grew anxious and they knew they had me spooked. No one else on the street seemed to even see me let alone be persuaded enough to care to help. Instead, these boys essentially directed me further into the darker parts of town, right where they wanted me. Finally, when crowds were beginning to thin down one of them began growing agitated that I was not complying with their demands. He pushed me against a wall, threatening to kill me unless I turned over cash and my cell phone. For some reason I continued to call their bluff and attempted to keep walking, all the while looking for authority figures that might come to my rescue. I kept repeating the mantra of not having anything to give them and asking nicely for them to leave me alone.

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A police sighting spooked them enough to back off for a few minutes. I quickly fled the scene and made an attempt at getting back to a more populated part of town and closer to my apartment. But they caught up with me two blocks over and were back to their old tricks. This time I finally saw what I had been dreading - the flash of a blade. I stood my ground, somehow believing that they could not seriously be threatening my life all for a few dollars and a cell phone. When I refused to give them anything for the final time the thug with the knife made a thrusting gesture, enough for my instincts to kick in and push him away. Sweating, anxious, and truly scared I didn't know what to do but get out of there. They followed me, but I lost them in a crowded outdoor plaza. I retreated to my apartment and spent the rest of the day asking myself why on earth I thought coming to Africa was a good idea.
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I did see those boys again on several occasions, but thankfully never had to endure another incident like this one. I learned my first day lesson quickly and a lesson I now frequently pass on to others - lose the blatant American/tourist image, always seem confident in where you are going by avoiding frequent stops to use a map, cell phone, etc. Carry as little cash as possible and always keep walking.

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Needless to say, my adventures in Cape Town were some of the most fun and memorable three and a half months of my life. There were certainly moments like the story above that I could have lived without, but I wouldn't trade the entire experience for anything.