I wasn’t in France, though, I was in Constantia, the wine region of Cape Town. Massive oak trees sheltered each side of the road, hundreds of years old. Every 500 metres or so we’d pass a sign for this vineyard or that.

Wine making in Constantia began shortly after the Dutch arrived in the 1650s. Since then, the industry grew and shrunk and grew again. Miraculously, the vineyards remained largely family owned.

The endless variety of wine labels here isn’t a marketing scheme. It reflects the genuine diversity of families, estates, and styles producing millions of bottles a year. Were Cape Lodge not a dry house, I would buy a bottle for $8 or $12 (R50-80) and enjoy a glass with the amazing sunset. (If you’ d like, I’ll make some recommendations and you can head to Whole Foods and share the experience for $40 or $50 a bottle. The joys of import tariffs and sin taxes.)

The vineyards look like zen gardens with their rolling lines of vines. Driving through, we passed some horses then came upon the farm-house. Behind it were mountains, beside it the grapes. We were at Buitenverwachting vineyard. (No, I don’t know how to pronounce it.) Founded in 1796, this vineyard produces reds and whites and sells just over a million bottles a year.

The wine tasting was free, which surprised me. We were visiting, no intention of buying wine, and they wanted to give us free glasses of wine? Sure, I’ll take several. (Napoleon and Princess Diana ordered quite a few bottles, too. It’s world-renown wine.)

We tasted chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, cabernet sauvignon, and house blends. The coolest part, though, was talking to the hostess. Since it’s winter and tourists are sparse, it was just the four of us.

Vineyards in South Africa work much like plantations did in the South, except the workers are usually well paid and taken care of. We learned the hostess has lived on the vineyard for 30 years; she grew up there. Her children, too, live on the estates and go to its preschool. It’s certainly better off than a township. Odd to think both shack-ridden townships and grape-laden vineyards truly reflect South Africa.

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Our next stop was halfway up the mountain on a highway pulloff. After several kilometres of the cliff-hugging highway, we pulled off to the side. We had all of Cape Town Flats in view – the largest section of Cape Town not separated by mountains.

To our left was Constantia, full of vineyards and estates, including we one we just came from. Directly in front was the American embassy, quite a fortress. Beside it was the main prison (operating at 140% capacity). To the right was middle class housing, to the far left Cape Town’s prized Table Mountain. In the distance, beneath the factory smog and haze, was Khayelitsha, Cape Town’s largest township.

This one view provided a snapshot of society – the fruits of agriculture, the consequences of industry, the results of hatred, the masses of poor, the sparse elite, the civically refused.

We thought about the vineyard as we returned to the township. Quite the contrast. South Africa’s been a melting pot of oil and water for 300 years. We’re still waiting to see how well they mix.

To experience serenity is unforgettable. To start the day with a Zimbabwian refugee in an South African township praying for the Spirit to help him serve others. . .that humbles one to a peace that is unmistakable. Such a peace is more serene than anything I can imagine.

One would think travelling abroad would bring chaos and unsurety. It certainly brings a change of scenery, but oddly enough the switch up brings more clarity.

When I sit at Samford, or Greenville, or anywhere for long enough, things begin to seem the same. I get used to the culture, the needs, the blessings…it gets comfortable. I lose sensitivity, I lose perspective.

When I head to New York and walk through Wall Street, it switches things up. The culture is different, the needs are different, the blessings are much more materially abundant.

And then landing in Hong Kong – definitely a different culture, totally different world, hard to even understand what’s going on.

Then Cape Town proves to be a world of dichotomies – rich whites, poor blacks, misplaced coloureds. Where do I begin with seeing the needs? In fact, it’s hard, because the blessings of people’s joy are so abundant.

But with each changing scene, among the Gucci purses and the barefoot children, the first class flights and tin shacks, comes more clarity.

Clarity that life is precious no matter where it is. Clarity that people love and want to be loved, no matter how much they hide. Clarity that the best way I can spend each moment is to listen to life – the heavens declare, the skies proclaim, the people reflect – and live with love.

The place doesn’t matter, Manhattan penthouse or Masi shack. People are the same, and Love never fails.

Two things made it clear I traveled to the other side of the world: the 15 hour flight and the change from 85°F to 2°C.

How long is a 15 hour flight, one might ask? Longer than you’d expect.

In fact, it’s long enough to get to know the person beside you (quite well), watch The Adjustment Bureau, read Bloomberg Business week, (try to) take a nap, read Bloomberg Markets, eat lunch, get bored, watch some movie about California wines, get bored again, read some more, eat dinner, watch The Departed, have trouble falling asleep, get another mini-bottle of wine to try and fall asleep, not fall asleep, eat 4th meal, get bored again, read some more, start another movie, eat breakfast, then land.

And how long is a 10 hour layover in a tiny, freezing-cold airport while exhausted? Enough to sleep on cold, metal benches sucking every Kelvin degree of warmth from one’s body. Certainly a downgrade from the NYC 2-star sketchy hotel with sticky carpet we stayed in.

But. . .I can’t get far with such thoughts before realizing tomorrow night I’ll be sleeping tangent to slums. There is no carpet to be sticky, no movies to be bored of, and no prospects of even being in an airport to board a plane.

Of course, ten minutes away is Fish Hoek, a previously whites-only suburb of Cape Town full of money, beaches, and their own country club.

It’s juxtapositions like this that keep me sober. During my time in Hong Kong, I realized that no matter in the business and Burberry-rich district of Central or the shack-ridden country side of Guangxi (广西壮族自治区), two things were always present: the creation of nature and the life of humanity. It’s these common denominators in every scene – slum, city, country, or suburb – that make me think about what’s common to humanity.

Beneath the Burberry and under the tin-roofs, what is common both?

Smiles. Frowns. Pain. Joy. Yearnings for life and longings for love.

So, with no shower in 24 hours and 5 more to go before the journey’s complete, I look forward to the next five weeks. They’ll be filled with table-topped mountains and men of a different color. I’ll meet women like none other and marvel at the wonders of creation. It’s gonna be quite the journey. Stay tuned. . .

The second is trying to always fly through New York, and if possible, stay there for a few days (where, inevitably, I spend the money I saved on the flight). In case you haven’t talked with me for more than ten minutes, I love New York and aspire to live there.

So, on my journey to South Africa, I accomplished both. <pats self on back> I saved several hundred dollars flying out of Charlotte and into NYC on Sunday morning at 6 (you’d be surprised how many people actually fly places Sunday mornings at 6), and I stayed in NYC for two days.

And indeed was it an excellent stay. I had flash backs to the spectacular time in 2010 I was there with DuBose, Anne Marie, and Meg. See the ball drop in New Years? Check. The others further discovered New York is not their city. In fact, I think DuBose thoroughly hates it.

But this time, though solo, was just as exciting. I had dinner with Katharine Bierce, a friend and co-volunteer from Acumen Fund and a fellow StartingBloc Fellow from Boston ’11. Most unique and spectacular, though, was my afternoon with Laure – she’s a good friend from my time in Hong Kong who’s from France but interning in Manhattan this summer. Small world, no? Ok, it was New York, so maybe not.

The city, this time though, was different in two ways. First, I started thinking about what life there would be like as instead of just hoping to live there one day. I began looking at buildings and thought of rent checks and utility bills. I saw office buildings and wondered about paychecks and my likelihood of getting a job there.

That was depressing, so I went on to the second difference: starting to live the New Yorker’s life and not the tourist’s (well, sorta). I avoided the touristy places and jaywalked like the natives do.

Most favorite, though, was running in Central Park at sunset (looks like this guy’s picture). The view of the city behind Kennedy Reserve Lake is spectacular. I took a few pictures on my phone and texted the beauty to friends; they didn’t quite appreciate it. They texted back an “um” and a gorgeous picture of the sun setting over the mountains. Oh well.

Of course, two days is not nearly enough time so I’m looking forward to my next two in August, on my way back.

That is, after all, what has brought me out here: work. In January the founding engineer at Mint.com, Poornima Vijayashanker, began her own startup: BizeeBee. Four years ago, roughly the time she was churning up Mint, I was working for a Sassy Tails, a startup in Greenville. Since then, my boss from Sassy Tails (Liz Wiltsie) has moved to San Francisco and now works for BizeeBee. When a business development internship opened up there, Liz invited me to interview. (Or she opened one up for me, I’m not quite sure.)

Sassy Tails…BizeeBee…perhaps one day I’ll be employed at a company with a normal name. (And more than 6 employees.)

However, the small business culture is a fantastic one. Many people have asked what I do every day. Well, officially my card says “Business Development”.

I’m certainly not licking envelopes and pushing paper. (Actually, I asked for staples last week and Poornima said, “We’re a software company…I don’t understand why we need things on paper.” No pushing paper here—there isn’t any.)

The second day here I was handed a list of current projects, projects a real employee was working on before I showed up. Now they’re my projects to handle.

I don’t just update our Twitter several times I day, I’m supposed to help figure out how it fits into our marketing scheme. (Yay trial and error!)

And, while I’m doing that I monitor the conversation of small biz on the web (Facebook, Twitter, OPENForum, LinkedIn, Intuit, blogs, etc.).

Meanwhile, we’re stalking cities across the nation to find the best places to launch.

Below the surface of all of that, we’re looking for key partnerships (and figuring out what “key” means for us).

Then after dinner, we’re chatting about the grand marketing plan. (It’s top secret, of course.)

And my boss expects more than just compliance, she expects me to infuse creativity and invigoration into these projects. I love it.