2oceans Vibe

I was running a tad late this morning after The Muse threw a slight curve-ball. It was 10 o’ clock and I had a TV-show meeting at 11. There was a chauffer booked for 10h30, which would deliver me to Eurojet Scooters on Buitengracht Street (my scooter, “Libby,” was ready to be fetched, with a brand new back tyre) and I still wanted a quick bite to eat.

I fell out the lift and headed towards one of the restaurants, waiting for a member of staff to appear (usually bowing). “Michael” appeared out of nowhere, noticing I had shit to do.

“Are you ok, Sir?” he asked.

I read his name badge and gave him my thoughts, “Michael, this is the story. I have a meeting at 11. I have a scooter to be fetched beforehand and a car booked to take me there at 10h30. It’s 10h10 now and I am wondering if God is able to produce some eggs and grilled tomato for me?”

“Where will you be, Sir?” came the reply.

No umming and arring and confusion. No negativity. NOT EVEN A FUCKING “YES.” You see, he has gone FURTHER then “yes” – YES IS A GIVEN – he just wants to know WHERE. That is the concern at the moment. “WHERE,” not “IF!” It’s a whole new level – somewhere The Grand Restaurant in Camps Bay should think very seriously about sending their staff for training. You know, to add some service to “compliment” the food.

I pretended not to be impressed and said I would be at the pool.

“And an orange juice, please,” I thought..

[I have come across two Michaels. This Michael should not be confused with the Michael on the front desk who managed to outsource a set of Boule at 17h00 on Saturday. There is a shop in Tygervalley Centre that stocks them, by the way - should you need.]

Back to Michael and the breakfast…

I shit you not, the food arrived in 7 minutes – which is EXACTLY how long it COULD take you to make eggs and grilled tomato – you know, IF you were trying to break a record.

A Guiness World Record – and no-one knew..

I devoured the breakfast, realising that time was now in MY hands.

10h30 came and I proceeded directly to the front entrance of the Cape Grace Hotel. Before I even stepped out into the lobby, Lance appeared next to me, walking at exactly the same pace. Almost like those people that drive alongside cyclists, giving them supplies, like water and thick skin.

“Your car is ready, Mr. Rotherham,” he confirmed.

Now I don’t know how the fuck he knew that I was the guy or how things work here. It’s almost like the Truman show. Whilst I am quite aware that the hotel is full, it honestly feels like it’s all about me. A notion that I am, naturally, quite fine with.

Seriously, it’s actually bordering on amusing and outrageous at the same time. I am tempted to suggest that they are downstairs the whole time, strategising on what I might want next and ensuring that every member of staff is 100% in tune with my MIND – let alone what I have actually UTTERED.

Off I went to Eurojet to get my scooter:

Lance – BMW 7 series il chauffer.
(And part-time motivational speaker)

Service was becoming a bit of a theme in my brain, as I asked Lance about his time at The Cape Grace. God, it was unstoppable, as he went on about how awesome his job is and how he has been here for 15 years and how he feels it is HIS sole purpose to make everyone’s Monday better.

I am NOT making this up. And yes, I checked for cameras..

I fetched my scooter, sideswiped Vida e, and headed off to the meeting. Which was very positive, thanks for asking.

I stopped by The Safe house to check up on Mavis, who (as you can only imagine) was VERY relaxed on the sofa with a toasted sandwich and a cup of tea in her hands (WWE wrestling on the TV – naturally). We negotiated her new leveraged pay structure, which allowed for random thumb-suck family death grants, as well as the continued “turn-a-blind-eye-to-chilling-out” understanding and no-rules wrestling TV viewing allowance. I left on the scooter with some essentials, including the Vanity Fair, my red jeans, De Grendel Rose and another six pack of Jack Black (the Jack Black which was pre-stocked in my suite’s kitchen fridge has already been klapped) and some pot.

Back to home base..

Chilled

I gathered myself in my R12,500 a night (off season) 2-Bedroom Luxury Suite at Cape Town’s Cape Grace 5-star hotel. Now, whilst two bedrooms may seem a bit over the top, it is clear that senior management understand the necessity for a study (albeit king-size en-suite).

The master bedroom – for recreation

The study – for “work”

And so the day went on. I spent the rest of the afternoon next to the pool, drinking whisky and fielding sms’s; filling up various time slots for the rest of the week. It’s looking like a good lineup.

Pools to the left of me

Yacht basins to the right..
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you..

So that is where I chilled – with the iPod on random.

Tracks next to the pool included:

Queen – Under Pressure
Joss Stone
Tupac
Beatles – Help
Kriss Kross – Alright
Thelma Houston – Don’t Leave Me This Way
INXS – Devil Inside
Dirty Skirts – You’ll Be Amazed
Jamelia – SuperStar

And, of course, Michael Jackson – Heal The World.

Chat later..

I had so much to tell you, which I will be focusing on later. As you know, I moved into my suite at the Cape Grace hotel on Saturday.

“Our 2 Bedroom Suites epitomise luxurious home-from-home comforts and are ideal for families or friends travelling together. These spacious suites feature two private en-suite bedrooms and a sizeable balcony and include a fully equipped kitchen, separate lounge and dining area as well as a CD player and DVD machine – ensuring a comfortable stay for those wishing to make the most of their in-room downtime.

As with all rooms at Cape Grace, facilities such as a separate bath, shower and toilet, satellite TV, secure room safes and even an iron and ironing board are standard in every 2 Bedroom Suite.”

Cape Town’s Cape Grace Hotel

This morning’s delivery to you was stunted, due to a little drama. You see, The Muse stayed over and, upon leaving this morning, found her car clamped.

Panic and mayhem ensued and, with a collaborative team of ten people (including Cape Grace Reception and Concierge staff and Waterfront security guards), we dealt with the problem. I orchestrated the proceedings, naked, from the suite (sweet!) balcony, with a cellphone strapped to one ear (tuned into The Muse in full blown spin-out mode) and the room line on the other ear (direct link to the General Manager in the control tower).

The matter was dealt with and it looks like we’ll all live to see another day.

The Muse confirmed everything was sorted out and, before she put down the phone I asked, “Why did they clamp your car if I’m staying at the hotel?”

“Oh, no, there is another section which has been demarcated and is separate to the hotel parking zone.”

I had a feeling there was more to this. “Are there no signs there to warn motorists not to park in that area”

“Yes,” she said.

“What do the signs say?” I probed.

[wait for it....]

“Wheel Clamping Zone,” she replied.

“WHEEL CLAMPING ZONE?!” I asked, bewildered.

“Yes….”

As ludicrous as it seemed, I just wanted to see exactly how ludicrous it was.

“Umm, where exactly was this sign?” I enquired.

“Directly in front of my car where I parked.”

“Basically the only thing in your line of site when you parked the car?”

“Yes.”

So that, my dear friends, is why we’re off to a staggered start this morning. There will be more later, I just need to re-adjust my whole vibe.

Don’t forget to have a snoop around my suite and also take note of the Cape Grace’s many accolades:

“Best City Hotel” Travel & Leisure World Service Awards (US) 2008

” Best Independent Hotel” Luxury Travel (UK) 2008

“Top 10″ in TripAdvisor Traveler’s Choice Awards (US) 2008

” Best Hotel in the World for Service and Staff” Condé Nast Traveller (UK) 2007

” Gold List” – Condé Nast Traveller (UK & USA) 2007

“Best Business Hotel in Africa & The Middle East” – Travel & Leisure (USA) 2006

“Best Hotel in the World” 2000 & “Best Hotel in Africa” – Condé Nast Traveler (USA) 2001, 2003

I’ll smell you later..

After a stunning meal at The Grand in Camps Bay on Friday night (with emphasis on the food, rather than the service) and a solid toot at Caprice, Saturday’s weather followed through without effort. A stunning day was had at The Entrepreneur’s pile, as we indulged in some surf and turf spectator action; with the Springboks beating Scotland on the telly, and the Volvo Ocean Race heading off to India – live from the Atlantic Ocean, right in front of us.

FINE!

Very kak

Robben Island and the Volvo Ocean yachts
The luxury motor yachts were not a part of the race..

Today brought a surprise courier package in the form of a huge pile of brand new Playstation 3 games, which included Guitar Hero III. My God, I nearly wet myself as I opened the package. It seems a local game distributor, Megarom , has picked up on the lunch time rock madness afternoon we had at M&J’s place a few weeks back. I’m just waiting for a second guitar and a PS3 console to arrive and God only knows what will go down.

Excalibur
..has arrived

I showed The Muse what had arrived and she wasn’t quite sure..

“Oh,” she mumbled, verging on a wobbly. “So does this mean that you and G-Man are going to get stoned all day and play video games?”

It appeared that she was not using the filter system.

“Probably,” I replied, as I chose some cool stickers to put on the one guitar.

It can’t be easy for her. I mean, I AM 17 days into growing my moustache for the month of Mo-vember. I ran into The Guru today, whose ‘tache (“Taj”, if you’re Indian) is also coming along very nicely, I must say. So much so that he noted, “I am not growing a moustache any more, I now have a moustache.”

Touché!

Seth’s ‘tache – coming along nicely
Click here to find out more about Mo-vember

Other than that I think we’re in for loads of fun in coming days and weeks – not least of which is the fact that I’ll be moving into The Cape Grace 5-star hotel for a week from Saturday. Gifts and trinkets can be delivered to the main desk from the 22nd to 29th of November. Lunatic angels will be restrained at the door.

Cape Town’s glorious Cape Grace hotel
Seth’s 5-star residence

Yes, that’s right. One of the World’s most famous and finest 5-star hotels have asked if I would like to make it my home for a week. I graciously accepted the invitation. With full spa available, yachts, pools, bars, restaurants and a chauffer carting me around, I’m sure I’ll be FAR more productive!

I trust the cutest little angels will be shifted on the main desk over that time.. And, er, Nigel, maybe a bottle of Veuve on ice in the room, to get us started?

So we found ourselves at the Arniston Spa Hotel this weekend. We weren’t actually staying at the hotel, but rather a mate’s place. Nonetheless, we thought we would enjoy the very sexual vibe at the Arniston Hotel pool.

For the uninformed and those of you who don’t know about the hotel or have never heard of Arniston before, I took the liberty of getting this “excerpt” (oh, excuse me!) for you from the hotel website :

“The Arniston Spa Hotel is set in one of the Cape’s most exquisite locations, next to an old fishing village, surrounded by pristine beaches and nature reserves. The luxurious 4-star Arniston Spa Hotel is internationally known as one of the world’s great getaways. Touched by the spray from the Indian Ocean, we welcome you with panoramic views of the unspoilt ocean and endless beaches. Blessed with an abundance of sea life, the hotel promises delicious oysters from nearby shores and the freshest fish from the local fishing boats.”

Aah – fucking chilled

The “Residents Only” sign didn’t bother us too much as we decided it was for management to protect themselves when getting rid of undesirables. We made ourselves desirable by chilling in the sun and requesting a cocktail menu. It all sort of fell into place as I opened the cocktail menu – the first cocktail my eye caught was the classic…

“Alabama Slammer”

“Christ Almighty,” I exclaimed to The Surfer , who confirmed that it was becoming “all too easy.”

“Have the gentlemen decided what they will be having?” the waiter asked.

“We certainly have, my good man! Why don’t you rack us up two of your tightest Alabama Slammers !” I confirmed.

“Oh very good, sir!” he shrieked, walking away.

I called the waiter back to the table as I asked, “I beg your pardon, what is your name?”

“Jason,” came the reply.

“Great, with a dash of speed please, Jason!”

He clicked his heels and off he went.

The Alabama Slammer
Feel it inside you

It became all too apparent why some folk travel half way across the globe to try the Alabama Slammers at The Arniston Hotel. They were absolutely fucking incredible – an explosion of taste – something out of a porno. We had about five each which, at R42 a glass, gave us the confidence to indulge in the thoroughly sexual swimming pool. The sun was shining down on us as we silently said a prayer of thanks to the God of Cocktails and played a game of Diver Dan.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur and I can’t remember a thing. We weren’t thrown out or anything, but I definitely recall the Alabama Slammers making the world feel like a better place. A softer, more fun place. Like everything was made of marshmallows.

I just wish that you were there so I could stuff marshmallows into your mouth and tickle your bum.

As you yelp with joy..

Maybe next time..

And if you’re there next time without me, just remember that you’d be a FOOL not to dry hump a few of those Alabama Slammers at the pool.

Spread the good word..

CLICK HERE if you want to book a room
at the Arniston Spa Hotel and
try these beauties first hand