A few weeks ago, I had a quiet Sunday with not a lot to do, so I decided to check out the Johannesburg Botanical Garden. It's at this big park with a huge lake and was packed with people. I strolled around for a while when these two dudes walked up to me and asked for a light. This happens a lot here. So many people smoke. I told them I didn't have one and moved on. Then two other dudes came up to me and asked for a light. When I told them I didn't have on they excitedly said "Hey, you're a foreigner!" Usually not the reception I get, but cool. So we start talking. They say I'm the first foreigner they've met during the lead-up to the World Cup, which at this point was still a few days away. Within a minute of conversation they invite me over to their picnic area for a beer.
Nice group of people. Very welcoming. So we hang. It's four dudes and three girls. They ask me about America and I ask the about South Africa. They get me to say funny words in Zulu and laugh at me. I try to remember all their names, but like a douchebag foreigner only remember the easy ones: T and Precious. But, it turns out that there will be much more time for me to remember names, as they invite me to go back to one of their apartments for a braai (barbecue). So all eight of us cram into a tiny tiny car and head out.
The apartment we go to is in this complex mainly occupied by students, so it's noisy and there are two other parties going on. So we naturally pop in to see what's going on. I, the American novelty, get lots of attention. Because I live in L.A., people ask me about Compton. So many people here have asked me about Compton. They've lived it vicariously through rap music for so long they're excited to meet someone who's been there. I tell them it sucks, which it does. This one guy at a bar told me that was the first place in America he wanted to visit. Compton.
Chicken, beef, boerwors (sausage), beans. Delicious home-cooked meal for a dude with only a hotplate.
New friends.
The braai was delicious, probably because the girls did the cooking. Apparently not a lot of guys cook here, so they were a little surprised when I was asking them how they were seasoning the chicken.
Then one of the guys wanted to go meet up with some girl at a bar, and needed me to play wingman. So we went and he tried to make his magic with this girl while I talked to her shy and very uninteresting friend. His luck ran out, I finished my beer, and he took me home.
So a quiet walk in the park led to an all-day adventure with these strangers. It was a lot of fun, and I had a killer headache the next morning to prove it.
