Ruthless Angolan HOSPITALITY (continued, part 2) More recently, Mercedes had lived in Luanda, the Angolan capital - at a safe distance from his wife of her lover - but three weeks ago, she was transferred to work in Lubango. Here she lived in a new apartment, privda, without light and water. After a visit to Mercedes, we returned to the car and visited two other women, who were also lovers loving Marseille. In the first of them was a Chinese machine for popcorn, which was called "Party Time", while the second one in there was a bottle of cheap whiskey that Marseille without any twinge of conscience had used on their own. In search of breakfast, finished with a whiskey, Marcel went to his mistress and squeezed her huge breasts, which seemed to barely fit into the sprawling along the seams of the sixth bra size, and said something to her. I pretended I was a little worried about what is happening. Adulterer always pretty slippery characters, but this guy was a champion for change that. However, breastfeeding biting the hand I did not want, so I picked up two fingers in approval and smiled weakly. The hostess returned home after a successful shopping at the market after the whiskey my friend pulled on entertainment, he wanted to take me to the disco. However, given his passion for alcohol and Angolan prices for beer, I decided it was best to pretend to be tired and to save your wallet from the devastation. Back at the apartment, I showed a few Mercedes made by me for the day shots, and accidentally, she saw a photograph of Marcel and his lawful wedded wife. I tried to explain it, clumsily lied, saying, "Signora of a restaurant in Ksangongo. But she quickly saw through me. After this incident, our relationship with it in the best case could be called cool. The next morning, when between "love" has become inevitable to mature family scene, I have a few hours slipped away from the apartment. Guardian Gate City in full swing celebrating the crucifixion of their religious leader, which happened two thousand years ago. The churches were the crowds, but near the churches stood in long lines of enthusiastic believers in white robes. This action lasted all night and all the Easter weekend. When I returned to the apartment, Marseille, it was not, but there was a man with huge biceps, which if desired could kill me in one motion. His name was Tony, and I asked him what he was doing in life. He grabbed an imaginary gun, aimed it at my face and pulled the trigger. "Military" (port. "army", approx. Perevi.) - He smiled and I noticed that his teeth have the same yellow hue as the eyes. He's quite made it clear that we must go. I had no idea where we go, but decided not to tempt fate and agreed to get into his car. After a hard day businessman comes to his home in south-western suburb of Lubango I felt like a character in a detective novel writer Henning Mankell, whose body soon had to find a pile of garbage in a suburb of a nameless town. Apparently, the rest of the novel was told would be about how my parents had hired some of Sherlock Holmes, a middle-aged, which would open the case. These thoughts I have in no way reassuring. I sat in the car, and the excitement, I even came a kind of heaviness in the stomach. "Servezha!" (Port. "beer", approx. Perevi.) - Said the burly, and pointed first to himself and then at me, parking the car near the bar. It was obvious that the beer will have to pay me, and when I drank beer polkruzhki "Cook", he again said: "Servezha!" We drank up until the money that I had had with him, not ended. After this he took me to a military base, showed a couple of tanks and introduced to their army comrades. Of course, all my anxiety and worries were unfounded, but because of the serious language barrier, my trip to Angola was doomed to constant misunderstandings and awkward situations. Then Tony took me to his girlfriend who, like the girl with a bottle of whiskey, could boast about big breasts. There's something waiting for us and Marseille. He was in a good mood and called the girl "Siniora Volvo. We drank and watched on TV entertainment shows of Brazilian television, are the same that were at the Signora Mercedes and the wife of Marcel. All those who appeared on the screen seemed to have recently made myself some strange plastic surgery, and I very quickly became bored. Tony drove me back to the apartment to Mercedes, where on the table waiting for us two fresh cake of her own cooking, and candles. Seeing me, she immediately went to bed. Young mother with her child of Someone once said that "prison is a house, if you have the keys." In the case of the Mercedes is not quite true. It is still nowhere to be stuck. She just would sit with the child and the whole day waiting for the coming Marseille, who darted from one woman to another. Her maid would buy food and bring to water. The next day I went out at dawn and returned only to sunset. When I returned, Marcel Mercedes has promised that he would hold the night with her, but first he must go to his wife and quickly hung her noodles Start material: Completion of material:
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