9021Greek

On Friday night we were given the option to a) stay in and sort out our stuff, maybe watch a DVD, b) go back to the mall (we have spent more time in that mall trying to get our computer fixed than I care to think about) to the cinema, or c) go to a mental 21st birthday party at Electra and Alex’s friends’ house.

Let’s go back a few days. I have been neglecting you and A LOT has happened.

Electra and Alex are awesome. They are the parents of a Greek-South African girl called Angelique who Kim knows from doctoring. She is in Glasgow, funnily enough, and hooked us up with her parents. We did have an inkling that it was ‘good to have contacts’ – reference Sarah being amazing and settling us in from the get go.

So Electra and Alex came and got us from the gated community outside Joburg in their Merc and took us to Moyo (googleit). Moyo was a big, mad, posh, African chic restaurant. Alex started to try to teach me about wine and we had a lovely feast and interesting conversation. Both are very easy to talk to.

It was late when we got back to their massive gated house in Pretoria, behind electrified wire and cameras. They have the softest guard dogs in the world. One has tried to lick my legs into submission several times. I am yet to yield.

Thereafter we have spent what seems like several days going around looking at cars and trying to get the computer fixed. This has been pretty knackering and not a little boring at times, especially when you just know how much cool stuff there is to do, but it was all necessary and we are making progress.

We chose c). And ended up in what I must describe as a tasteful Columbian drug-dealer’s mansion. That is not to be unkind to the non-drug dealer host Mike, but it gives the quickest picture. The house, now surrounded by Mercs and BMWs, was chock full of beautiful, wealthy young things (most of whom have had Alex as their paediatrician from birth) dressed Hawaiian-style. For this was Anthula’s 21st and it was not to be done by halves. Tables adorned with big orchids in glass houses, projected images of the kids on the walls… Oh let’s cut to the chase, there was a big free bar.

Speeches were made and they were really thoughtful and nice. Friends and siblings and parents all commented about how great Anthula was and then she stood up. Hers was slightly less cool as she mentioned several times that her sister likes the cakes a bit too much. Maybe it is an in-joke. Anyway overall they were really sweet and demonstrative. And by then I was hammered, so that helped.

Kim popped off to the loo (about which, more later), and at that point, Mike came up and offered to show us his cellar. His cellar (on the first floor) was the best room I have ever known. To get to it, you had to prize open a double cupboard door in a messy IT room. Then another door appeared and through we went. Red brick arches were filled with bottles of red and white, all kept at somethingorother degrees. We walked out with a bottle of Laborie Merlot which apparently costs 24985723409875 rand, or more than seven pounds.

If anyone is not jealous yet, come here and I shall slap you, you are mentally ill.

Mike’s whisky collection was a bit weak to be honest, with several bottles of Whyte and MacKay, but then I know buggerall about wine, so there you go. And he was a nice bloke.

The party raged on below and we rejoined it, with Alex sneaking away to get another bottle of Zsomething (red Sambuca). By now the kids were in a tight circle with some boys doing that Greek stepping-about dance thing. They were already surrounded by debris and added to it by smashing more plates. Not like the old days, Electra told me. No, in old Greece they rarely smashed them on their heads. These kids! The plates were a bit Hollywood, I get the feeling.
Note that I have not yet commented on how awesome it is that Electra is called Electra. Well it is time. What a fantastic name.

Yes we definitely owe Angelique a few pints and I plan to pin her to a chair for several hours whilst I bang on about her fantastically kind parents. Once again I see really good hospitality and I feel lucky / hung over.