My last drink

I was in South Africa up on the garden route with one of my cousins enjoying myself with a vodka and cream soda concoction which my cousin had ‘invented’. Despite the highly suspect light green colour of the drink it actually tasted quite nice. Whilst sipping my third glass of the stuff I came up with an idea about what present to get my aunt, she had after all been the person who had let me stay with her for the past week.

My idea was sparkling wine; I must admit that it wasn’t merely a selfish act of gratitude. I knew that my uncle does not drink sparkling wine he’s more of a beer man so in all likelihood I would be drinking half the bottle anyways it was more of a present to me. So my cousin took me to the local winery where apparently their sparkling wine put the region “on the map”. Those words alone combined with the fact that the winery was surrounded by the most beautiful of scenery and the three glasses of vodka and cream soda instantly made me want to buy it. I didn’t really take notice about how ghost town like the winery shop was and neither did I taste before I brought.

So I decided without a second thought that I should buy this apparent ‘world renowned’ sparkling wine for my aunt.  My cousin as ever persuaded me to get another bottle of the stuff to take home with me. After all this was apparently world renowned and put the place on the map, so I decided that I’d buy another bottle just so that I’d have more of this ‘zesty cap classic’.

When I arrived back in Cape Town I gave my aunt my present and a few days later as I predicted I was popping the cork so me and my aunt could drink it. From the bottle it didn’t really look like it was going to be that bad.  Neither did my poor aunt suspect anything was up she was just anticipating the sparkling wine which she had been waiting all day to drink.

I poured her glass and then I poured mine, we both had a sip. The stuff was so sour it was like someone had put pure lemon and lime juice in the bottle, added some carbonated water to it and labelled it ‘Sparkling Wine’. My stomach could barely take it, my taste buds couldn’t and apparently neither could my mouth. As my aunt in a polite tone said “this stuff is alright” whilst trying to hide the non verbal leakage on her face I was shouting “ewww this stuff tastes so sour”.

Since I had opened the Pandora box of insults she realised that even I the present giver had even admitted the error of my ways by buying this. She joined in as we both tried to gulp the stuff down as fast as we could, each sip being a challenge, each sip making our stomachs clench. My uncle who never drinks anything but beer came in seeing us holding our noses and tipping it down our throats.

He decided that he might as well try it, so being grateful that someone else wanted a sip we poured him a nice big glass so much so that it was almost overflowing. He took a sip and we waited for his response instead of pulling a face. He goes “this doesn’t taste that bad”.  Instead of questioning his judgement (everyone has different tastes after all) we saw this as an opportunity no sooner had he uttered the words “this doesn’t taste that bad” we were filling up his glass with more, pouring the sparkling wine out of our glasses and into his.

My aunt and I now feeling relieved decided to check the back of the bottle to read exactly what it said. It did have a warning but instead of the “do not drink and drive” warnings that you generally see on a bottle (it was bizarrely absent) or the do not drink more than 3 units warning it had this “Do not drink and walk on the road, you may be killed”. So according to the bottle it seems that driving is potentially fine but walking after drinking this stuff is very dangerous.

What was even more dangerous though was disclosing the price as soon as I told my aunt that I spent 130 R on each bottle (£13 but expensive in South African terms for alcohol) she nearly choked on the piece of lettuce that she had been chewing for the last 15 minutes trying to get the sour taste out of her mouth. For the next 15 minutes the whole neighbourhood could hear her going “130R for this stuff!” as I sat there red as ever.

Needless to say I decided that my bottle of the stuff I would donate to her after trying to drink two glasses of it, I wasn’t really interested in ever opening another bottle of it.  I left South Africa content with the fact that my suitcase would be lighter and the ‘world renowned’ sparkling wine was in my Aunts fridge and not in my already breaking at the brim bag.

A week later I got a call from my aunt she had entrapped another poor soul to drink the stuff (or should I say lucky soul) because it turned out that we just had a bad bottle. The stuff wasn’t that bad whilst they were enjoying the good bottle I was stuck with a cup of apple juice enviously drinking it.