Today marks four months since I hopped across the pond over here to South Africa.

With topics ranging from politics to stereotypes, I have attempted to share a bit of my incredible experience in my columns.

However, I feel like you have not been fully enlightened. I have yet to tackle a very serious topic that is incredibly close to my heart: ridiculousness.

I encounter it every day at the most unexpected times, and it keeps me going.

No story of life abroad would be complete without a glance at the absurdities that make life exciting.

Most ridiculousness here involves communication. South Africa has 11 official languages, but English is the one most widely used in the public sector.

Signs are in English and Afrikaans. Afrikaans is the language of the Afrikaaners, the “white tribe of Africa,” originally Dutch settlers. Hearing it spoken sounds like German/Dutch with a lot of throat clearing.

Sometimes it seems like Afrikaans words are just smaller words put together. Conference Center is Konferensiesentrum

I am also picking up bits of Zulu and Setwsana, making lots of children laugh at my attempts to speak these native tongues.

The other 10 languages aside, South African English is its own animal.

Almost every sentence contains words and phrases that are rarely used in the U.S. or used for something different.

Lets play the dictionary game. To show up somewhere is to “pitch.”

Instead of “I’m almost there,” or “I’ll do it later” you get “ I’ll be there just now,” or “I’ll do it now now.”

“Now now” is usually hours later. A truck is a bakkie. A barbeque is a braai.

My personal favorite is all the robots; they are everywhere. Whoever decided to call traffic lights robots is my hero.

The age-old American battle of soda vs. pop vs. Coke doesn’t exist here. Here, they prefer the incredibly literal term “cold drink.”

Cold drink is any juice or anything in a can that isn’t beer. Someone wasn’t being very creative.

Greetings are a blast.

“What’s up, man?” is “Howzit brew?” to which one replies, “Sharp sharp, howzit,” and keeps walking.

If I am excited to pitch up to a rough part of town, I am actually “keen” to visit that “dodgy” place.

When driving, you don’t “turn on to” a street. You pass the robot, and “turn into” the street. I think of Transformers quite often.

For students, cell phone conversations are short and often cut off mid-sentence, and the text message — which they call an “sms” — is the preferred communication method.

Imagine how confused I would have been during the first few weeks if someone gave me these directions. Use the dictionary above to maneuver this maze of potential dialogue.

Friend : “Mark, howzit brew?”

Mark: “How’s what brewing?”

Friend: “Sharp, are you keen to pitch to the braai tonight? It’s in a pretty dodgy area, but it should be hectic”

Mark: “ Yeah, I’d love to pitch, who’s playing catcher? Did you say we would be playing dodgeball?”

Friend: “We can play if you’re keen. Anyways, I’ll send you an sms with directions now now.”

Three hours later, my phone would buzz, and the sms would read:

“Howzit? 2 get 2 da braai, take Olifantsfonteinweg to Waterkloof, pass three robots, @ the 4th robot, turn into Voortrekkerstraat.

“Pass da Tshwane sign and u will see our bakkies. Don’t forget the cold drink. It starts @ 6. I’ll see you just now brew!”

I would have borrowed a friend’s car, driven on the wrong side of the road and pitched up at around 6:30.

But no one would have pitched until 7:30. Life is on African time. It’s all quite ridiculous, but I love it.

You are now almost ready to study in South Africa. There is just one more lesson you must learn, involving my favorite ridiculous pastime on the planet: Costumes.

The following situation is 100 percent real, and it happened last month. I received the following sms from my friend, Anton.

“Hey guys, braai at my new place on Friday night. Bring your own meat and cold drink. Wear your costume if you dare!”

Yes.

After I got over my excitement, I told my roommate, Hans, it was costume time.

Unfortunately, neither of us packed our identical Chewbacca costumes, which we both have in the U.S. (Fate, right? We met here in South Africa)

Once a Wookie, always a Wookie.

I called Anton to see what everyone else was wearing.

“What kind of costume should we wear, brew?”

He went silent, started to laugh, and responded, “I have a pool at my new place. I was talking about a swimming costume. You know, a swim suit.”

What the heck? Who calls a swimsuit a costume?

Everyone in South Africa, apparently.

Ridiculous.

So, here I conclude, encouraging you to study abroad somewhere and experience the ridiculousness of a new place.

But don’t forget, ridiculousness surrounds you daily at OU.

Experience the real meaning of a costume. Dress up today, if you dare.

South Oval, let’s say 12:30 or 2:45.

Chewbacca will be waiting.

Mark Nehrenz is a journalism senior. His column appears every other Friday.