margin - n. the edge or periphery of something; the amount by which a thing is won or falls short

For someone who came here to study botany and conservation, it's embarrassing how little my untrained eye can distinguish about the vast array of plants that make the Western Cape world-famous for its biodiversity. 

The Western Cape vegetation is mostly fynbos - Afrikaans for "fine bush", named after the small-leaved shrublike plants that characterize this floral kingdom. The fynbos biome is the smallest and richest in the world in terms of species diversity per square kilometer. From a distance, it looks like the whole of the Western Cape is covered in a uniform carpet of rather diminutive bushes. But if you hike or drive up a little ways into the mountains, it isn't hard to see that these dwarfish, unimpressive plants actually exhibit an extraordinary range of shapes, shades, and structures that is really unparalleled in any of the forests of Europe or North America. Some of the most striking plants are the proteas. The bodies of the proteas mature in all shapes and directions, but most species produce a very distinctive flower: powerful, bowl-shaped, and spiky, with a dusty, rugged shell and a startlingly luminescent interior that ranges from pale lavender to magenta in hue. 

No one understands precisely why this tiny region, and ONLY this region, has evolved to support such a staggering variety of species. Even with my limited background in biology, it's not that hard to see why so many conservationists, both international and South African, are clamoring to preserve this small corner of the earth. For them, the fynbos is a biological mystery, a one-of-a-kind chance to understand our world a little better, and therefore an incredibly precious natural resource. 

At the same time, though, the fynbos doesn't seem to figure at all into the lives of most South Africans. The vast majority of the people here are very poor. What tangible benefits can they reap from mountains' worth of shrubby plants that grow slowly, produce no food, don't make good firewood, and burn down every 15 years or so anyway? Perhaps needless to say, it's a funny situation, characterized by all the quirks, contradictions, and disparities of perspective that seem so emblematic of the way virtually all conservation efforts have unfolded on this continent. 

Spending time here is a pretty awesome way to get my feet wet, considering I've only just declared as an EEB major. But I also feel more than a little disconnected from the hub of culture and activity that is Cape Town. Whenever I'm out wandering the streets or museums, buying groceries, rubbing shoulders with all the people that sell things or hawk at pedestrians or ferry passengers from Mowbray to downtown Cap, it seems that the fynbos couldn't be farther removed from everything that is necessary and relevant to this city.

a tempest in a teapot - slang for great anger or excitement about a trivial matter

The hardest thing to get used to about Cape Town is nightfall. 

At home in New Jersey, the transition from late afternoon to evening is just another one of those vestigial natural phenomena: thanks to headlights, street lamps, and indoor lighting, it's rarely more than a minor inconvenience for those of us who are still out and about. 

Here, depending on where you are in the city, the sunset can be really spectacular since Cape Town is spread out right in front of the ocean, with the picturesque and oft-advertised Table Mountain looming moodily at its back. But sunset also means that it is about to become a lot more dangerous to be out on the street. Finding your way back home suddenly becomes no trivial endeavor - taxis are sketchier, flagging down a minibus is generally not recommendable, and going on foot is just downright stupid under a lot of circumstances. 

It's hard to tell how many of the rumours - especially when they come from upper-middle class white international academics - can be taken seriously. Still, better not to take any chances, right? 

To be sure, it isn't hard to get around safely if you just take some basic precautions. And it certainly isn't hard to find advice, if you just ask. But I can't help wishing that it were easier to know whose advice to take. 

Of note: I went on a long run today, in spite of the pouring rain and the onset of night! A dubious milestone. And an excuse to eat more avocado, brie, bread, chocolate, peanut butter... It is winter here, after all, and therefore necessary to eat more rich, fatty foods to maintain body heat.