Dani and I went out for breakfast and I indulged in a chocolate fudge cheesecake milkshake to start the day. It is not exactly the cornerstone of nutrition, but it was damn good! I do not regret it.
Because I barely interacted with white people for the past six months, I forget about things we do, like growing really stupid mustaches that twirl and curl at the ends. I saw a man with such a stache at the breakfast restaurant. I was momentarily embarrassed for my race. I also do silly things like this (though not exactly that), but it had slipped my mind that I also have an annual month of stupid facial hair. But because I have not had any exposure to that kind of thing in so long I actually forgot how us white people love to look like idiots. Black people do not seem to be interested in cheesy facial hair. Black people are more interested in wearing a flashy colored shirt and shoes to attract attention. Racial differences…
At 13:00, Dani and I went to Rascal’s Pub and Restaurant to watch the Moto GP Superbike races with her friends. I have seen highlights from Moto GP on television many times in my life, but I have never watched it and I have always wondered who does watch the sport. It turns out that it is Dani and my new friends in South Africa. They are the people who watch the sport. Good to know.
I paid attention a little, but was mostly processing thoughts in my mind during the entire race. The others I was with were really into it though. Like ‘into it’ as in total fanatics! They knew all kinds of crazy stats that impressed me. I am talking about the women as well as the men who knew tons about the sport. It is really impressive when women are dedicated to a specific sport. It is sort of uncommon and that makes it super charming.
When the race was over, we had made our goodbyes and Dani and I walked back to her house. One the way there, she said to me, “Well, I forgot the cat food in the bar, Donelle forgot her son Ethan’s hat, and I have a beer coaster in my underwear courtesy of Ethan.” A great quote from a fun afternoon.
We drove to the vineyard area of Capetown to pick up Jochen from work. Dani and I decided to go on a wine-tasting venture at Groot Constantia wineries to enjoy the pleasures of fine booze. The winery was established here in 1685. 1685! It makes me imagine the scenario of Europeans arriving on a boat: “Alright mates. We are here. Whew, that was a long trip. Now, let’s create a way so that we can get pissed. Plant these grape seeds right over there. Oh wow, there are indigenous people with dark skin living here. How very interesting. Okay, have you got those seeds in the ground yet?”
I climbed into a giant barrel to get a photo with Dani for our friends in London. After I was inside, a couple of girls sitting close by asked me how I got into the barrel. I told them that I was born inside of it. As I went to make an exit from the barrel, I made a lousy somersault for dramatic effect and two condoms fell out of my sweater pocket onto the grass in front of the barrel. I tried to grab them and pick them up before anyone else noticed, but Dani had seen them. She said, “Yep, and Beaver was also born with condoms in his pocket!”
Jochen drove us winos home. Dani and I went shopping for a braai (South African for barbecue), but we were drunk and bought everything for dinner except the wood necessary for cooking it on which was our priority for going to the supermarket in the first place… Silly winos.
I sang this song in my head all afternoon…
Jochen is a chef and whipped up a dandy of a meal for dinner. It makes me think that I need to live with a chef. My capabilities of boiling water or making toast seem like they could use an ever present palate pleasing chef in the house…
I played the Boodhound Gang ‘Hurray for Boobies’ album as we were eating dinner. If you forgot that album existed, please give it a listen. The lyrics are so witty and entertaining…