MEETING THE FOCKERS AND FREKKERS - Part 1

Meeting the Fockers is not a specialty of mine. I am not that wonderfully easily likable girl that can just smile and nod and listen patiently while people talk around me, or answer questions politely and demurely and without bias. Nope, no sirree. I am the nervous, verbal diarrhea, foot-jambed-so-far-into-my-mouth-I-can-barely-see-my-knee kinda gal. Yip, when it comes to meeting the Fockers I’m about as nervous as a Jack Russell puppy on speed! So at this point, 48hours after leaving Cape Town including 4 hours on a hot sticky bus, I have to thank the universe for sparing me the initial embarrassing first impressions meeting, as I was so exhausted breathing was an issue (this could also of course be from the RIDICULOUSLY humid, thick air of Durbs!). The universe had obviously done some prior calculations and figured that I’d never last Friday to Monday in Durbs without burying myself neck deep in “what NOT TO DO when you meet the parents” moments and thus postponed the inevitable just long enough for me to re-gather my momentum!

Prior to this (ie the foot in mouth disease moment), the Chef and I cleaned ourselves up a bit and got ready for a night out in Durban. 1st stop, the famous BBB. Known to Durbanites as Bean Bag Bohemia and the place that all your generalized ideas about surfer-dude-laid-back-durbanites become a reality. There is no equivalent in Cape Town, so to set the scene picture Keanu Reeves in Point Break just when he’s about to jump into the sea for his first surf. Now transfer that image of him into a restaurant, hair and clothing remaining the same. Am I painting a clear picture here? So basically what you get is a bunch of good-looking, very chilled people dressed for the beach, but in a rather chic space all just “chilling man…”. I mention this purely to illustrate my other very special quality of being able to stick out like a sore thumb. I am not from Durban, I do not do chilled, beach gear. I do 12inch heels and smart (usually black) tops that cover most of my glow in the dark pale skin. So not only am I overdressed in terms of “the vibe”, I am also literally wearing too much! Cue deep breathing exercises and confused looks from the Chef.

The Chef: Crazii, what’s wrong?
ME: Look what everyone is wearing…
TC: Yes?
ME: I’m completely overdressed! Why didn’t you tell me!
TC: You look lovely Crazii, calm down.
ME: But if you’d told me what Durban Dudes wear I would have dressed appropriately.
TC: Really, you have casual clothes?
ME: Well obviously I have casual clothes!
TC: What, your pajamas?
ME: Right, point taken. Let’s go in.

We go in and are shown to our table. I have calmed down to a mere panic and have started breathing again. We’re 5 minutes late (still a bit jet lagged from our train trip) and walk in to find EVERYONE there. All 8 other people, sitting round the table, waiting for us. Seriously, in Durban, the Capital City of Utter Chillness. This is all just too much for me… how did these people managed to get a balance between Cape Town chilled dress sense and Johannesburg time efficiency??? My utter discombobulation is obviously noticed by the Chef who promptly orders a bottle of wine and issues a “drink me” look. No problem.

As you can imagine, the rest of the night passes with little more surprises as I take my new task of consuming Alto’s Rouge’s finest with great conviction. The usual “How did you meet each other”, “where are you from”, “family siblings etc etc” questions are asked and then the kicker:

Frekker: So, how long you guys been together?
TC: Um… (looks towards me)
ME: Well, um (looking like a deer in headlights), it’s quite an amusing story really…
TC: Yes, (haha, nervous laugh) we sort of met in August… but only really got together in…
ME: Um, let’s call it September?
TC: And then we sort of, well..
ME: It’s complicated.
TC: Let’s say, give or take 5 months, all days combined
Frekker: Right… okay then…
(we evetually settled on December, so officially 4 months)

Embarrassing line of fire quickly diverted and it was back to the task at hand. Drinking and eating being a forte of mine, I was set on proving I could totally mingle with the like super cool people man. 2 bottles of wine down and I was totally making waves Dude (hehe, pun intended!). But seriously, dinner was lovely, all Frekkers are very cool and I managed not to talk unless I was spoken to. Success! Time to leave the now relative safety of BBB and head out to a new night club in Durban called Origin. Would you like me to tell you why this place is called Origin… I thought so.

3 dance floors, strobe lights, disco balls and smoke machines. Seriously, smoke machines… I felt like I was back in the 80’s when spandex, leg warmers and oh, wait, smoke machines were cool! Hence the name Origin – The beginning of the reason why we hated the 80’s. But wait, it gets worse. House music. Yip, the 80’s combined with the worst of the 90’s, with a little bit of Tent Top wearing girls thrown in for good measure(read here regarding my feelings on these). It was weird Man. So in true Crazii style, when the going gets tough… throw name. We danced and drank and chatted to people we didn’t know and had a ball. Durban may be weird, but it’s a flipping blast!

And what do we do best after a night on the town??? Consume food that when seen in the light of day would give you instant gangrene, never mind heartburn! A quick drive in a really fast car and we’re outside the local Cockroach Café… I mean Roti House. It’s at this point that I realize my wine and savanna induced bear goggles are doing much for my fear of giant bugs as well as my understanding of what a Roti is. One GIANT cockroach perching on my foot and a large thing wrapped in foil and we’re ready. For what at this point, I have no idea… but I’m excited!

It transpires that a Roti is actually a large baby wrapped in a pancake and smothered in spicy sauce and cheese. It’s delicious and just what is needed to try and salvage the remains of my name and future ability to talk. So with stomach’s now lined and eye balls ready to learn to focus again - bed time. Good night Durbs, thanks for an awesome first introduction!