cape town airbnb
After 2 months of travel, packing has become both a science and a herculean feat. Each place I visit means I acquire a little bit more that still has to fit into 2 carry-on sized bags. This would be why I was late checking out of my Cape Town Airbnb.
Thankfully, Peter, my host wasn't fazed. The cleaning service started doing their thing while I finished stacking, rolling and stuffing all my sh*t, then stored it off to the side. Once finished, I was famished. I had several hours before my flight.
Peter queried, "So what are you going to do now?"
I mentioned that I wanted to try out a nearby restaurant on Bree Street, but couldn't remember the name.
"Is it Clarke's?" He offered.
"Yes! That's it!"
"Ohhhh.... they have the BEST burgers. I wish I could join you."
"You should," I replied. He looked momentarily shocked at the ease of my offer, then his eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas.
"I really shouldn't eat a whole burger by myself," I proffer. "Why don't you come split one with me?"
The magic words work, Peter grabs keys, we walk to his car and are off.
At Clarke's, we find a table, order. Burger with cheese. Double fries. 2 blonde beers. Peter prefers medium rare. I'm more of a medium gal. As the guest, I win out. As we wait for our food, Peter reminds me why over-40 gay men are some of my fave people to hang out with.
He points out naughty things and rattles off dirty double entendres that have us both giggling like prim and precocious Catholic schoolchildren.
He blames it on the 1 beer we had, but I know a fellow 'dirty mind' when I encounter it. The beer is a convenient excuse. When I ask, are you Jewish, he quickly replies, "Half. The bottom half." Despite the silliness, our conversation spans many serious topics: housing values in central Cape Town, what it's like being gay in South Africa, backwards practices around HIV/AIDS prevention, what African men are really like, Jacob Zuma, Donald Trump and government corruption. We even stop for ice cream and candies after lunch. By the time we're back at the flat, we hug and cheek-kiss like old friends.
"Don 't forget to leave a review on Airbnb," Peter calls after me as I walk out the door. " Absolutely!" I reply.