Slug and Lettuce with Mr. Muda

When I say there's a bar 50 yards from the front door, I mean it's right there. The narrow brick road is marked with the inconsistent pock marks of time and use that I often trip over as we saunter on down to the corner. Muda bartends the Slug and Lettuce with a smile. He talks easily and gets the customers to join him with a charming flash of his grin and boyish giggles. He is fiercely protective of us as his guests in his bar, fending off other men and not allowing anyone creepy to talk to us. How lucky are we? I soon found out though, that he is evil. I only asked for one beer and ended up with 3 along too many shots that I care to recall. My liver may never forgive him.

The decor in Slug and Lettuce has a strange, alluring curiosity. Literary quotes wrap the room near the ceiling, referring to all things alcohol and meat. Skulls and antlers line the walls, usually adorned with tea cups and old books. There are also beautiful replicas of paintings on the ceiling. There isn't a lack of things to look at, you can never get bored. Aside from the building itself, the people within its walls are just as interesting. A woman in her late 40's sits at a table working on her third giant glass of wine. Muda tells us she's been there since 4pm, two hours before we arrived, and telling the most lavish stories. The woman's stories continue to grow as her ability to stand straight diminishes. R175,000 cash she paid for a car. 10 minutes later it was twice as expensive and twice as nice of a car it was earlier. She was one of those drunks. 

We decided we were hungry. We're always hungry. Springrolls we decided, from the menu, were a good idea. But somethings wrong. Each one is the length of my hand? I have come to learn that I cannot expect what I am use to in the States when I hear a familiar phrase. Ketchup, springrolls, traffic, none of it makes sense!

Muda poured us more giant shandies than we should have had. But they were good. A shandy here is light beer and sprite. Two things I don't drink normally and would have NEVER thought to put them together, but holy crap is that something I want every day of my life from now on. The beer down here is delicious. Muda handed me a shot of tequila with a grin that said he enjoyed his job way too much. When I asked for salt and a lime wedge I got instead, two lemon slices and a rock salt grater. Now what the hell am I supposed to do with that? So Caz, the ever helpful friend that she is, decided to help me with the tricky salt grater. I was successfully dusted in salt from scalp to arms in 10 seconds. It's not a good look for me. 

Not only does the tap flow freely but so does the bar gossip. Only in Cape Town for a few days and I'm suddenly aware of the personal lives of the other staff. This one steals from the bar, this one looks at his woman wrong, that one took more than his share of tips, and oh boy, don't even get him started on that one over there. It's fun trying to decipher the thick accent when he's too excited about his story to slow down for a slow foreigner. 

I woke up this morning with a hangover and a good amount of salt still in my hair, looking like a hot mess. Good decision making. We needed good cafe food and a nap. Melissa's was my savior.  After a night of passing notes and being painfully cute together, Caz and Muda didn't start their day until 4pm when Muda had to run back to work. I love the lazy days here. We make plans and schedules only to be distracted by something more pleasurable at that moment, we'll get to it tomorrow. It's wonderful aside from my ever growing pile of dirty laundry. Tomorrow, I swear I'll do it tomorrow. 

Or I'll just snuggle with Buddha.

- Mandy