All I really wanted this morning was do my laundry.

I've had the hardest time washing my clothes here. It took forever to find a place where I didn't have to pay someone to do it. The first time, my jeans ended up missing. The next time, my one and only nice slip came back torn. It looked as if someone much larger than I had tried to put it on, as it was stretched to tearing on one side. Since then, I had been washing a few things a time in the bathroom sink.

However, I heard a rumor that there was a laundry where you could wash your own clothes in central Rondebosch. I drove there this morning, and had to make three passes before I could figure out where to park. I had a nice tour of down town that way (at least one block of it). Parking is a bit confusing here. Some places, you need to have a pre-paid card, which you present to the single parking meter for your section of the street. At the meter, you select your slot number, and then hold your card over the magnetic reader. Other places, someone runs up to you after you park and tries to sell you a parking ticket. There are countless self-designated "parking guards" that will run up to "help you park" and promise to watch your car. They even wear little reflecting vests! I went the easy way, and parked in a garage.

So yes, after all that (about 45 minutes after I left my house), I was loading clothes into the washing machine. In a hour I was done. I don't think I've ever been so happy to have clean clothes in my life. I felt extremely accomplished. Finally, after a full week of bad luck, I had been able to complete something in only twice the time I had expected.

I think the last time that I wrote, I had just bought a car. Sandy Smuts, the Botany secretary (a woman only equaled by the likes of Janet Dillon, by the way) had suggested that I talk to a man named Wintson at the UCT garage. Wintson had a good reputation for helping students buy and sell their cars. I met with him and he was very helpful. He called up a dealer he knew, had them pick me up, and told me not to commit to anything, but the have them drive me back to him with any car that I was interested in for him to check out. I did exactly that. He took a look at the car and gave me a list of things he said he would demand they fix before I bought it. This included replacing the shocks, replacing the clutch, fixing the window wipers, and about five other things. He spoke to Mr. Kahn, the owner of the dealership, and Mr. Kahn agreed to fix everything, include the registration and roadworthy test fees, and fit a radio in the car for the sticker price. I asked Wintson if he thought the car was in good shape--would it get me to Namaqualand safely twice a week. He said he'd seen better, but that the engine was in good shape, and it was a good price for a Toyota. So I decided to take it.

That Saturday, I had a car. I was relieved, as I was more than ready to start my collecting. I was about ready to cry with frustration at my lack of progress on my research, and I was desperate to get into the field.

I've discovered this is not a phenomenon unique to myself. I met one of the Fulbright Lecturers, a "Fulbright Scholar," as they were called. She said she had been here since July with her husband and daughter. It had rained the entire two weeks they had been here. They were also desperate for a car -- feeling frustrated and ineffectual. They were also told to go to Winston for help buying a car. They also put their complete trust in Wintson in their desperation. They bought a car before test driving it. In fact, it was on blocks at the lot.

When I think about it, it was as if my brain had entirely switched off. Based on his recommendations, and the fact that he was associated with UCT, I put my compete trust in Winston. If I had been at home, I wouldn't have touched the car I bought with a ten foot pole.

More tomorrow...

Shelah