African Bizarre: up close and intimate in Soho

A new friend's 40th saw us at the Makumba Lounge and Bar for an Africa Bizarre celebration. A very chic, but sour, lead singer sat in the corner when we arrived and the mood never lifted throughout the entire evening. She was, thankfully, in good voice and sang Happy Birthday without smiling once. Quite an achievement.

Hong Kong must have been stripped bare of every fake zebra and tiger skin outfit this weekend, and there were some extraordinary suits, dresses with daring cut outs, stockings and peacock feathers. Also a banana on tiger print legs. But first prize went to two guys in full print suits - the one in zebra and the other in tiger wearing trendy dark, squared-framed Jay Jopling-type glasses. The tasty African tapas, a hybrid misnomer if ever there was one, included mince balls, chicken wings, African spring rolls (what's that?), deep fried sweet potatoes and plantains.

When we started reflecting upon celebrating with the 40 year old young things, we thought it time to move on from Peel Street and walk around Soho. In Hong Kong, Soho stands for South of Hollywood Road, and usually means either Staunton and Elgin Road. As it turned out, we didn't get much further than the Feather Boa in Staunton Road, an unmarked, so-called private club. A chippy young lass from England remarked that she was not sure how private a club is that is listed in The Lonely Planet.....still, the first time I had to show my ID to order a drink in a long time. Same chirpy lass produced a friend's local ID card to get her drinks and no one noticed the difference. The lady mixologists were very professional, and churned out chocolate martinis with floating Maltesers and strawberry daiquiris served in glasses with frosted chocolate rims with relentless energy. They went through three containers of chocolate powder for the frosting in the time I drank one cocktail. The space, a former antique shop, was heaving with people and you literally felt the bones of bodies pressing against your back. We had a conversation with a happy Swedish visitor who kept on handing out red roses from the vase on the counter to his blonde compatriots. When asked if he liked visiting Hong Kong, he took a deep breath and said that during an earlier massage session, the masseuse kept on trying for what is termed 'a happy ending'...so I wondered what's the case with the roses then?

The morning after? A little dim and dry around the head...and a wistful thought upon my co-drinker's comment that perhaps the years between 40 and 50 are the best...so party girl, the best is yet to come!