Annalog

It becomes boring to describe a beautiful day at a beach with white sand and blue, turquoise water. Walking up and down the dunes barefoot and feeling the texture of sand beneath your feet seems like an everyday thing to do. Many people have experienced this, and so the broad description of “white sand and blue, turquoise water” just doesn’t cut it anymore. People read for the sensory details they may have missed, for the writer’s personal take. (more…)

I spent the day walking around City Centre, eating lunch, and looking through shops—generally enjoying the beautiful day. It was warm by Berkeley standards, a regular spring or summer day. But, for Cape Town, it was plain frigid.

I left my flat around noon to meet some people at Greenmarket Square, a small cobble-stone market just near the newspaper office where vendors selling all sorts of touristy trinkets set up stalls everyday. I wandered through the stalls, looking at carved mahogany spoons, Pashimas from India, and t-shirts printed with the Big Five. Bright colors and beautiful fabrics. It’s a dangerous thing to go into a market like this with any money on you. I too often sit and calculate the equivalent in dollars. And so, with the current exchange rate in mind, I bought a scarf (dark blue and gold-patterned). (more…)

After nearly a month of celebrations, Nelson Mandela will turn 90 years old tomorrow, July 18th. This afternoon, at the Winchester Mansions Hotel in Sea Point in Cape Town, FW de Klerk, the president of South Africa directly before Nelson Mandela, delivered a birthday message for Madiba. (more…)

This coming semester I will be teaching a class called “The Picture Story.” It is the second part to former photo editor Salgu’s “Introduction to Photojournalism.” In the first few weeks, students will come up with a story idea and begin to meet and develop relationships with sources. Over the course of the semester, each student will make images and collect audio. In the final weeks of the semester, each student will put the finishing touches on their final project which will include multimedia.

Photographers have the power to tell stories in their pictures, but, in the words of New York Times columnist Errol Morris, “Not Every Picture Tells a Story.” The lesson to learn is how to do it most effectively. Sometimes a story requires only one image, other times a series. The viral use of multimedia in everyday news coverage has added yet another element to sensory journalism. The task before all young journalists is to learn how to tell a good story through sound, images (video and stills), and words. (more…)

Last week I covered a rally outside of City Hall on Main Road near the Cape of Good Hope. Picketers carried signs calling for the removal of guns from communities. The rally didn’t last long, and it was about the size of most protests on campus in Berkeley. A couple of the protesters held advertisments for the Cape Argus from late last year. “Man With Toy Gun Shot Dead.” (more…)

The fog rolls in over Table Mountain like a table cloth, covering the hills and dipping down into the City Bowl. Minutes after the sun sets, the sky turns brilliant colors and the clouds light up. Street lights and building lights around the city go on as night descends.

A slow news morning in Cape Town.

Alicia and I walked up to the canteen on the fifth floor—R2,50 for a styrofoam cup of koffie. The light streaming in through the canteen windows reminds me of California during winter. The light strikes the pavement hard, reflecting everywhere. No shade beneath bare branches. So bright. (more…)

I set the alarm on my cell phone and the other on my bedside table to go off earlier than I should have. For an hour I slipped in and out of consciousness, wishing I didn’t have to wake up for work. But at one point, the day became too bright and I was forced to awake. For some reason, there always seem to be beautiful sunlight on Sunday mornings.

When I go into the office back in Berkeley, every Sunday is spectacular, clear, and crisp. Every Sunday I wish I could just sit in a coffee shop, with my laptop and a book, and enjoy the warm rays of light beaming through the windows, lighting up the steam from my coffee. (more…)

Shells crunch under foot as Jean, Alicia, and I descend onto the beach at Sea Point. It’s a perfect last day in Cape Town. The sky is bright and clear, with a cool breeze—like summer in Berkeley. We sat on the platform of an covered wagon (without a canvas top) that looked as though it were just about to head toward the Western frontier of America in a playground by the beach. The three of us sat, eating fish and chips and talking.

The clear blue sky reached down into the sea, and I felt as though I was living a dream. Yesterday atop Table Mountain and today, next to the beach, I felt a certain ease unlike anything I have felt before.

(more…)

Jean, Alicia, Chelsea, and I set out on Friday morning (our day off) to climb Table Mountain. I think I agreed without knowing what I was getting into. We set off around 11 a.m. from our building near Parliament and took a cab to the foot of the mountain. (more…)