LOVE IN THE LAND OF MALARIA

CHARMAIN NAIDOO

Then, of course, our hire car wasn’t ready, Mr X refused to drive a class A dinky car because, he said, it had Marie-biscuit wheels. So we had to have an expensive upgrade.

We arrived long after the sun had set and Mr X couldn’t see the point of getting this, the most expensive room in the place.

He moved the vase of red roses to a corner of the outside balcony – allergies.

I tried to say there was a wonderful view, and that I was paying so it really didn’t matter what the suite cost and that he would see how lovely the view was in the morning.

But he walked around pointing to a frayed corner of the settee, a damp stain on the outer wall, the skew curtain rail.

Faded glory, I said, from another time, but still lovely, don’t you think?

Five stars on other parts of the continent do not necessarily measure up to SA’s fivestar places. I don’t mind that. Mr X did.

By now I was murmuring defensively under my breath, wondering why I’d spent half a month’s salary on a romantic getaway with this boorish man.

The final straw was at dinner. I’d booked the (expensive) resident Mariachi band (I know, right? Mexican band in Portuguese hotel?) to sing two love songs at our table. As they drew close, Mr X threw a hissy fit. I must have looked mortified because the maître d’ who’d winked and given me the thumbs up as we walked in, quickly moved the very expensive singers out of the room.

It was the shrug and pained pity look he gave me that did it.

I paid a very expensive surcharge to change the tickets and flew home.

That’ll teach you to believe in romance, my now-random friend said.

Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photograph of yourself for publication with the column.