Tastes of Stellenbosch

Part 1: Fantastic flavors

Eager to take advantage of a day off from classes, seven friends and I hopped on a train to Stellenbosch on Good Friday. When we arrived in Stellenbosch, the town seemed abandoned and that remained true for the entire day. We were still able to find an open restaurant to eat lunch, visit the botanical gardens (and almost get locked in after closing), go out to eat for dinner on the empty main street of town and relax afterward at the only bar that seemed to be open. Mostly everything was closed because of the holiday and we were told that many of the students at the University of Stellenbosch went home for Easter weekend.

Even though we were in a ghost town, we enjoyed a full day of wine tastings and tours on Saturday. The eight of us rode around on a bus for just our group with Neil, our tour guide for the day. Neil picked us up just before 10 a.m. and first took us to Kanonkop Vineyards. When entering the vineyard, we stopped along the driveway to look at the beautiful land. At Kanonkop, the primary grape grown is Pinotage, a genetically engineered grape created by a South African professor many years ago. Pinotage is a cross-bread of Pinot Noir and Hermitage and grows as small bushes, in comparison to many grape vines that grow upwards like small trees. 

During the cellar tour, we learned about the importance of the barrel in the wine making process. Once a vineyard harvests the grapes and makes the wine during a several-month-long process, the wine sits in huge wooden barrels for anywhere from a few months to several years. During this time, the oak wood emits tannins into the wine, which give it a slight wood flavor.

Yet, the type of oak is what makes this flavor possible. Oak in Russia for example is too hard and does not emit tannins into the wine. South African oak also cannot be used for wine barrels because the wood is too soft and cannot even be constructed into a stable barrel. All of the oak barrels used at Kanonkop are from France, and on average, each is used twice before being sold or recycled for things such as furniture.

After tasting one rosé and four red wines, we headed to the next vineyard: Glenelly, a vineyard owned by an 85-year-old French woman. Aside from the quaint formal tasting sitting in a modern, all-white room with glass doors overlooking the vineyards, the most amazing part of the experience as Glenelly was gazing out at the endless vineyards and mountains. The land was absolutely beautiful and full of grapes to produce Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz, Merlot, Petit Verdot, Cabernet Franc and Chardonnay.

We then went to Le Pomier, another winery, for lunch and a glass of wine before going to our third winery, Tokara, for an informal wine tasting. At Tokara, we tasted many different white wines, a couple reds, and also their whole line of extra virgin olive oil. I had never thought of wineries producing olive oil, and here they had just less than 10 different types.

At our final winery of the day, Solms-Delta, we walked through the vineyards before sitting at a huge table outside and tasted about five different wines while enjoying several cheese platters. We were so full of food, cheese and wine by this time of the day, but the sense of humor and charisma of the man serving as our wine during the tasting helped us stay alive and continue to enjoy all of the wines.

I left our daylong wine tour with two bottles of great wine: 2009 Chenin Blanc from Tokara and Cape Jazz Shiraz, a sparkling Shiraz wine from Solms-Delta, both of which I hope to have enough will power to save and take home back to the states with me to enjoy with my family.

Part 2: Frustration

While the vast vineyards and picturesque mountains amazed me, I found myself pondering the topic of my senior speech: “checking the other box” on applications, standardized tests and other forms that make me categorize my race with one check mark…

After spending the majority of my stay in South Africa in Cape Town, the idea of an obvious racial divide in this country is foreign to me. In Cape Town, I see white, black, coloured, Indian, and occasionally Asian people every day. I have noticed that some people tend to stay closer to people of their race or culture, but in general, I observe so many different races that I don’t think about, or notice, a segregated society (if it exists).

Before arriving in Cape Town, my family asked me what I expected going to South Africa as a biracial, or as I like to call myself “halvsie,” young women in a country that openly discusses race and is still very much aware of its young history as a former apartheid country.

Throughout my life I have been asked if I am almost every race from Pacific Islander to Mexican to Indian and more, so I honestly did not know how people here would “classify” me. I quickly learned though that I am “coloured” according to South African race categories. I am a child of black and white parents and I clearly look mixed, so to many people this is an obvious race classification. Yet, I never really felt “coloured” or even felt like any particular race until I visited Stellenbosch.

Stellenbosch, which is located about 45 minutes outside of Cape Town, hosts a large Afrikaner population who are primarily white descendants of the Dutch colonists of South Africa and speak Afrikaans. The University of Stellenbosch attracts Afrikaners, which works particularly well because many of their classes are taught in Afrikaans. While many coloureds speak Afrikaans as their first language, from my short visit in Stellenbosch, I mainly saw white-speaking Afriakaners (although I did see black and coloured people in the town near the shops).

When my friends and I went out to a bar in town near the university’s campus, there was one coloured guy (yes, only one) in the bar, and he “happened” to come and talk to me. While he was a nice guy, he was incredibly frustrating. After introducing ourselves and spitting some small talk, he said, “coloured guys must talk to you all the time.” All I said was, “well, I don’t know. I talk to anyone who talks to me.” Then, he began to tell me that it must be coloured guys who talk to me all the time, especially when I’m out, because that’s exactly what he did: a coloured guy sees a coloured girl who he finds attractive and that’s that. I couldn’t believe he was analyzing my life and the people who talk to me, and hit on me, based on my race.

I understand that people have “types” and sometimes a person’s type is defined by race, but I am not one of those people. Usually when a guy talks to me in a bar, I do not pay attention to his race, I just see him as a typical guy who is most likely hitting on me while making typical, boring small talk. I felt that this guy assumed so many things about me and believed that we had so much in common because we are both “coloured,” and because of that he continued to talk to me on-and-off throughout the night, despite my efforts to simply hang out, away from him, with my friends. He was perfectly friendly, but I just did not relate to what he thought was a “coloured connection.”

I consider the coloured race as more than just hazelnut brown skin with dark hair. I believe that to identify as coloured, one must be South African and possess a particular culture of a multi-racial family in a country that is still changing since the days of apartheid. I might identify with coloured physical features, but if someone asked me, “what are you,” I would never respond saying, “coloured.” If I labeled myself as coloured, I feel like I would be changing my identity.

Yet, while I’m in South Africa, I blend in because of the way I look. I look coloured and because of that, people can easily assume that I am South African. As one of my history professors told me, it’s only when I start speaking with my American accent that I am obviously not South African.

Since making my senior speech about checking the “other” box and attending college in California, I have not thought much about my race and how I see myself versus how others see me. It’s always an interesting game when people try to guess my race, but in general, I don’t think about my race much, because that is not all that defines me. While I am proud of my biracial identity, I’m more than a kid with parents of different races, and I would like to think that South Africans — coloured or not — would talk to me in a bar even if my skin was purple with yellow polka dots.