The Don't Go There Omnibus E-book Box Set: a laugh-out-loud series of travel memoirs about unusual places. by Adam Fletcher

Author:Adam Fletcher [Fletcher, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wanderlust Words
Published: 2020-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

At a Cuban-themed restaurant on the edge of the Central Business District, we settled into a window seat beside a very large fake palm tree. A waiter in square-rimmed glasses arrived. “Howzit?” he asked. If there were other greetings in South Africa, we were not hearing them. He left us with two hefty menus.

I looked up from the first of a two-page section devoted to Malibu Cocktails Beginning with the Letter D. “If I were emperor of the world, I’d force all restaurants and bars to limit their menus to just five meals and three signature drinks.” I neglected to mention I was already emperor of planet Sblanjkijor.

“If you were emperor of the world, I’d hope you’d have better things to do than that.”

“Look at this,” I said, fanning the pages. “It’s like an encyclopaedia of every cocktail ever mixed.”

The waiter reappeared. “Ready to order?”

“I’ve barely made it through the first dozen pages,” I said. “Can you just pick for me?”

He cocked his head but fired no words.

“What do you recommend?” I asked.

He rolled his top lip towards his nose. “Everything. It’s all good.”

“What’s your favourite cocktail then?” Nick asked.

The man cocked his head more. We were now talking at right angles. “Depends what you like.”

“I like not having to pick from more than five choices.” I pointed at random. “Key West Cooler. That good?”

“That’s good.”

Nick closed his menupedia. “Two of those then, boss.”

I took a moment to admire the room’s spectacularly unsubtle decor: classic car chassis, metal street signs, fake palm trees, and a faded Havana Club logo painted across an entire wall. Countries were complex, but country-themed restaurants? Remarkably simple. Any culture—no matter how old, complex, and multifaceted—could be pulped down to half a dozen trinkets nailed to a wall.

“You’re going to Cuba next, right?” Nick asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good idea. Before it changes.”

While that fear was the reason I was going, my time in South Africa had taught me how easy it is to overestimate the speed of societal change. Everyone knew South Africa needed to change—become fairer, reduce its crime, build a functioning social system. But there’s a big difference between knowing the outcome you want and knowing which lever to pull to make it happen.

The drinks arrived, and it became clear the waiter had looked us both in the eyes, albeit at a weird angle, and fibbed: the Key West Cooler was not good. Nick took a sip, shuddered, and placed it back on the table as if it might explode.

“Are you excited about the date?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t detected my nerves. I felt as though someone had kicked over a hornets’ nest in the centre of my chest. Another woman being near me and not wanting to get away felt both complicated and vague, like string theory.

He stared out at the street. “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been on a date. Like a proper date.”

“Is that what this is then?”

“I don’t know. For you and Princess, maybe? I’m just your batman.

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