Where Did We Wake Up?

After spending a wonderful evening all alone in a secluded campsite being entertained by the billions of bright stars we retired for a much needed peaceful sleep.  Upon arising and after a brilliant hot shower while viewing the mountains we decided to splurge and have breakfast 20kms down the road at the Helmeringhausen Hotel and Gastehaus.  Seemed like a great idea at the time.  Let me preface this story with a comment about Namibia.  Despite once being a German colony complete with a concentration camp, it’s s a wonderful country full of friendly and helpful people everywhere.  (Ironic, I know) Well, almost everywhere.  Now about breakfast ….

This is how we were greeted with just the beginning of rules and regulations.  This clearly was not the Namibia we knew but we were enticed by the following sign:

 

What the hell, who can pass up the best and original apple cake?  We chose to comply and entered.  After seeing a number of other orders and regulations some of which dumbfounded us such as the “no self service, keep the fridge closed.  Now, how would I close something  I was verboten to touch?  Usually these signs have “dear valued guests, please or thank you “ but they really mean “ stick your head up your arse and do what you are told”. Who needs a string across the books? Can you not look at them before purchase? Are there earthquakes? We might have in a slightly inebriated state headed north last night and are in Angola instead of Namibia. Strange. 

We chose a table and were approached by a waitress who clearly was thinking “was there a sign directing you to seat yourself?”  With a bit of an irritated look from her this is how the conversation went:

“We will have 2 apple cakes”

“One” was the reply.

“No, two slices not the whole cake”

“One” again was the reply followed by “there is only one slice”

Now, this establishment places its importance on the world famous apple cake and it is only 8:30 in the morning and nary a car on the road.  How does this happen?

“Okay, fine.  One slice and two forks.” Again you could just hear her thinking “that will cost you extra for 2 forks”

“Oh, by the way, we both would like the eggs scrambled”

“Fried” was the reply.

“No, no, scrambled please”

“Fried, we only serve fried” 

Oh my god I think. How flipping hard is it to whisk up 4 eggs.  Much easier than frying them I imagine.

This conversation was preceded by carefully viewing the menu of which I’ll supply the necessary photographic evidence:

First, we noted the special was “no mask, no entry” which was ignored by staff but apparently required by guests.

The menu allowed for a free wifi code with a meal but since there was no breakfast meals but only “extras” we didn’t qualify.  This was a thinly veiled attempt at preventing wifi access to those who shunned heavy German meals.  Revenge for the 1940’s?  Perhaps. The thought of a full German meal with a four hour drive made that not an option and I chose not to have wifi and see if I had any new Facebook friend requests.  A wise choice I believe not having bratwurst, sauerkraut, and four pounds of potatoes digesting along bumpy roads.

No tap water was available as was clearly written in all caps but no beverage alternatives were given despite it claiming to also be a beer garden.

I was certain at this point I heard the music to the twilight zone in the distance …

There was much debate about ordering toast since we were now having fried eggs.  Here’s the issue: Two slice of bread are 19 Namibian dollars or about $1.30 bot to have them toasted costs 10 Namibian dollars each or about $1.40.  Is it really more expensive to toast the bread than the bread itself and are two slices of toast worth $2.70?  I don’t know but we decided against the toast or even bread for that matter.

Coffee also wasn’t on the menu but we bravely ordered two cups risking being thrown out and banned from returning.  Soup and Seinfeld comes to mind.

Now, here comes the bizarre part.  Really, it was tame before now.  The only other table occupied was by a cute American girl and a German guy who was wearing a pirate shirt and hair that probably has not been cut nor washed in  the 21st century.  More about him later.  Trust me, read on.

We finish our breakfast and apple cake.  The “best”?  Not sure as I have limited experience but not bad.  Lisa goes to pay while I head to the rig to get the A/C going as it’s a hot one already.  After about 20 minutes which is Lisa’s usual time for the morning porcelain exercise, I become bored and see a sign down the road for a museum.  Helmeringhausen is not what we expected as a town and the population is around 12 depending upon the season and the “museum” was indicative of this not so thriving metropolis.  It was outside and behind a locked fence and showed off a couple rusted cars, an old hand washing machine, a scale, and a few other items not of interest.  I head back to pick up my bride.

Lisa is nowhere to be found which brings back thoughts of the unkempt pirate.  I go to find her and she meets me in the walk way.  “What took so long?” I enquire.  “Well, I had to wait for the pirate to finish asking questions like “how much is the key chain, are there other trinkets, are there dirt bikes available and, just speculating here, can we borrow some rope and shovels?”. She patiently waits and then is prepared to pay and the waitress scurries off to make a phone call clearly still upset over the no seat yourself policy that was violated. After a period of time she returns, Lisa pays and gives her a tip which is perhaps the most bizarre part of the story. I question her as to why she didn’t interrupt the pirate and pay and she said due to the long knife he had strapped to his belt she felt uncomfortable doing so.  I pride myself in noticing details around me but I clearly missed this one.

We head out to highway and periodically look at each other and recount the oddities that happened that morning.  I begin to think about the pirate and consider he might be a card carrying member of the Charles Manson fan club.  That’s absurd I know.  The more likely story is he is Charlie’s progeny who escaped to the obscurity of Namibi but genetics caught up with him .  Crazed look, long knife, naive young girl with him.  No so far fetched as one might think.

It’s truly amazing how an hour can influence your life.



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