This is the tale of two knights who decided to battle a fearsome
and unknown beast. The Mount
Nelsons afternoon tea.
Before I start, I have to tell you about the person I went
with; Kyle. He’s one of those people that if you saw him in the street you
would think he was a very tall fifteen year old. In fact he turns nineteen in a
few months. He drives an old, beat up, blue golf, and it’s surprising it’s
lasted as long as it has; the way he treats it. He can be smart, and
respectable when he wants to be, and completely crazy when doesn’t. But let’s
get to the story.
The Mount Nelson is one of the classiest hotels in Cape Town. Catering for
first class business man, upper income tourists, and the occasional celeb.
Its pillared entrance way invites you onto rolling lawns,
stone statues, and a large pink building that holds a five star rating that is
challenged by none.
As we arrived at reception, we were met with looks of slight
confusion. As if they were asking, why are these youngsters here? Can they even
afford this? To be frank, we didn’t know why, and no, we couldn’t afford it. We
dressed the part, collard shirts and all. We could walk the walk, but we
couldn’t talk the talk.
We were directed towards the ‘observatory’, as they called
it, where tea was being served.
As we got there, we realised that we had absolutely no idea
what we were supposed to do. We stood there in front of the buffet, unlike the
12 Apostles Hotel, the Mount
Nelson offers a buffet
instead of a platter, looking more out of place than monkeys in a hairdresser.
We decided that we’d look around, instead of standing there with blank glares
on our faces. As we strolled between the tables, and out onto the terrace, we
realised that every person here assumed we knew what we were doing. How wrong
they all were.
We made our way back to reception where I had to ask how the
reservation system worked; yes those are the words I decided to use. The
receptionist kindly showed us back to the observatory where a lady with a
clipboard asked for the name. She wasn’t there before. Where the hell did she
come from?
Now that the whole hotel knew we were idiots, we were ready
for tea.
Towards the end of out feast, for R225 per person, we were
going to stock up, we realised that our waitress, Mary, seemed to be getting
more and more disgruntled each time she came to our table. It then dawned on me
that we had started off being smart and respectful, but as the afternoon had
worn on, we had become more and more relaxed and so had our nature towards this
five star hotel. We had become our loud and vulgar selves once again. Even our
collared shirts couldn’t contain our teenage ways.
We went from quaintly drinking tea and chatting in posh
English accents, to guzzling down coffee and swearing at each other until the
paint started to peel off the walls.
We decided to calm ourselves and go wandering the gardens,
in search of enlightenment. These islands of green are decorated with statues,
created by local artists, and magnificent trees that look as if they’ve been
there since the beginning of time.
We eventually made our way to the swimming pool, and the
spa. The ultimate point of relaxation and comfort. The pool looked as if it was
made of glass, inviting you into its watery depths. It was lined with beach
loungers and waitrons to act on your every call.
Once we eventually made it back to our table we decided to
order one last pot of tea each. We wanted something that we’d never had before.
Something we would never normally order. We each decided on a different
Japanese green tea. Mine included roasted and popped rice. After waiting
through six minutes worth of steeping time, we had a go at it. And wow; was it
shit. These were my exact words, “it…it tastes like grass…” Like drinking hot
water through a bamboo shoot.
Once we were done, and I had recovered from the heart attack
given to me by the bill, we made our way to the bar, of course. We were very
quickly engulfed in a British Colonial atmosphere. You could have easily imagined
it pumped full of cigar smoke, with a roaring fire in the corner, while the
heads of the big five hung on the wall as hunting trophies.
The bar itself was at the very back of the small room.
Behind it hung a large mirror, like every bar should have, which engulfed the
large selection of spirits and aperitifs.
We were greeted with a smile from the bartender. “What can I
get you guys? A couple of milkshakes?” When you’re out with Kyle this becomes
every bar you walk into.
Sean, as we later found out, was a nice guy, as every
bartender should be.
We were soon rocking some “007 Martinis”, yes that’s what
they’re called, and we began to chat with a friendly elderly couple on a tour
of South Africa.
They were from the states and began to compliment us on the wonderful views and
‘countryside’, as if it were our own.
Once they had left, Kyle swiftly pointed out to me that he
isn’t too fond of vodka. Well a Martini is almost pure vodka, and unluckily for
Kyle he doesn’t know anything about cocktails. He told me later that he just
ordered the same as me because he couldn’t have been bothered to read the
description of each drink. I then pointed out, for future reference, that you
should never order the same drink as me unless I recommend it.
As the clock ticked over to half past six, we realised it
was time to leave.
We later figured out that Martinis make Kyle crazy as all
hell. Racing an Audi A4 in an old, beat up golf, never works well for the guys
in the golf.
In the end a pleasant, and enjoyable experience. I seriously
recommend the Mount
Nelson Hotel
for afternoon tea, and especially their bar. Just not the green tea.
