A few years ago it was some sort of a high-end spa where the well-to-do got kneaded, steamed and drank green tea under soothing oriental music. Then things that happen to businesses happened to it and now it’s a gallery and restaurant.
I was there recently to meet someone who I had never met before. It wasn’t a date. I was doing someone else a favour. I like to do such things once in a while when my life needs a bit of carelessness.
I arrived early and walked around the haunted gallery looking at mounted artwork. There was an eerie emptiness to it like the art was hung by ghosts who took off upon hearing human footsteps. Most of the artwork was brilliant but there was no soul to ask a question. When I coughed, the walls coughed back in echo.
I then walked down to the garden bar and restaurant where there are bandas to the left and tables under a tree. A very drunk and strange guy waved at me and said, “Sasa Gitau!”
I waved back and said, “Sasa Shem!” I figured if he is going to pick a random name to call me I can do the same. And what name is worse than Shem?
I ordered a Malbec. I occasionally indulge in wine when I feel aristrocal. Very friendly and patient staff. The trees swayed. I read the menu, feeling the wine warming my belly. The person I was to meet finally showed up with a colleague. We had a bite to eat.
I had some fish fillet that was simply outstanding. The drunk guy stumbled over and started talking gibberish. He was out of his face. I told him I wasn’t Gitau. And no, I didn’t know a Gitau. It was funny at the beginning but it quickly became annoying. So I ignored him.
An hour later, as I prepared to leave he showed up again and before he could say a word I said, “you are rude. Please go away.” He bowed like Bruce Lee. I thought he was going to chop me in the neck but he staggered back to his table with three ladies and a hat.
