Drive to “The Cavern” in the Drakensberg. Up the N2. A beautiful road. Toll plaza at Mooi River. R16:50. The Cavern set in the foothills of the escarpment. Bare hills, steep rocky cliffs. Plateau on the top. Trees in the valleys. Hills sparsely treed. Proteas and thorn trees.
Go for a
walk. Very hot. Trails poorly laid out. No signposts. We are lost a few times.
But at all times we can see The Chalet. We never know where the track is or
where we are meant to be going.
Go for a swim
we need to hire towels. R20 deposit.
Me: I don’t
have R20 on me.
Staff: Just
take them. He hands me some towels.
Lunch means
Stacey is amazed by the number of staff. One leaves by one door. Two enter.
Groups of waiters stand around talking. The minute food is eaten, the empty
plate it is whipped away. No dust settling. The black staff are happy, polite
and servile.
All the
accents are SA. I’m embarrassed to talk. If I speak the other guests will turn
to look or the staff will not understand me. I order my food by pointing at the
menu.
Late
afternoon a lot of people lounging. Sitting, talking and drinking. Looks like a
scene from a film. All the guests are white. All the waiters, maids are black
with white management hovering silently. This place changes slowly. Been in the
same family for generations.
Mrs. C is
checking her mobile phone for messages. No newspapers lying around. I wonder
how the test cricket is going.
A maid
flies past on a scooter.
Assemble
for a guided walk to Lone Rock. All stand around. Nobody speaks. An African man
carries a pack.
Me: Are you
leading us?
He nods
then sets off. No introduction.
Some people
race to get in front. Within minutes a straggly line of unhappy people.
The locals
make me glad to be an Australian. We have some idea of how to behave in a
group. Half way up the hill a happy lady speaks to me. She is from Sweden. I
feel sorry for the South Africans.
Very hot
unpleasant walking.
Some
bushmen paintings. People stand in front of the paintings and don’t move. We
leave everybody and walk back by ourselves. Bradley is very upset because of
the heat.
We hire
some tennis racquets. On the counter is a box containing “one normal lunch” and
“one vegetarian lunch”.
For dinner
last night the desert was Hawaiian Surprise. It was a spoon of vanilla
ice-cream with the surprise being a few pieces of canned pineapple. Today the
desert is Apricot Ice. It consists of a spoonful of vanilla ice-cream covered
by a few halves of canned apricot.
Afternoon
tea and I ask the waiter for a cup of tea.
Waiter:
What sort do you want?
From behind
me a SA voice says: I’ll have coffee.
The waiter
immediately serves the coffee to the man standing behind me. I turn around to
look at him. He’s not the slightest bit interested in me. Solemnly grabs his
coffee and goes.
Volleyball
court. A couple of older men play. Most of the young people sit and watch. The
staff leader sits and watches. So frustrating. I try and get two teams playing.
I try and get us agreeing on the rules we are going to have. My pathetic
attempts fizzle out. Nothing happens. Nobody knows what to do.
Drive up a
nearby hill to take photos. Drive past kids selling clay sculptures. We slow
and the kids thrust the sculptures through the window. Safety makes us stop the
car. The kids are not expecting us to stop. I exit the car and ask if I can
take his photo. He says yes and gives me a very sullen expression. Half an hour
after buying a sculpture it breaks. It needed to be baked.
Drive in
the car. Hot and hotter. Bradley is very hot. Looks uncomfortable. Drive down
the old main road through Winterton, Escort. Nobody wants to get out. Dry and
dusty. Many pedestrians.
To avoid
the road toll we drive down the old main road past Churchill Memorial.
Mrs. C hits
the roof about not going on the highway. Nowhere to stop. A sign to a hotel
looks very unattractive and barren. Fibro-cement. No cars. Behind the pub are
some roundavels. White walls and thatched roofs. Inside the pub. A very neat
dining room. Folded napkins. We eat some toasted sandwiches.
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