One of the downsides of running a guesthouse with visitors eager to learn about life in SA is that you have the same conversations, (albeit with different people) every day. In the beginning it was fun, as we liked to ‘tell our story’, and we were so enthusiastic about our new lives we were definitely in danger of becoming bores.  But over time we have realised that the questions are ALWAYS THE SAME.

Sometimes, relaxing over a glass of wine before dinner, when the anecdotes seem quite entertaining, and become more so as the evening wears on, it is bearable.

Sometimes, in the morning, when you are desperately trying to ensure every guest is served on time, kept happy, has their eggs done to order and their toast is hot – and “Mr Chatty” is determined to find out your opinion on South African politics, the best route to Canishner (Knysna), what is that bird, how high the mountain is, and how much crime /people /nightlife is there in Swellendam…….it is not very bearable at all.

The question that is asked more than any other, (and would make us financially independent for the rest of our lives if we could only find a way of being paid for the answer) is “Why Swellendam?”

Breakfast Deck

People actually ask us this as they sit on our deck in the sunshine, being entertained by sunbirds, weavers, cape white eyes, bulbuls, olive thrushes and drongoes,  looking out at  the beautiful Langeberg Mountains and down into the valley where sits the beautiful church. They are delighted by the harmony and friendship surrounding them. And they still ask the bloody question.

We have been tempted on many occasion to respond flippantly … “It was the only place where the police / family / ex-wife/ wouldn’t be able to track us” “The drugs are cheap” “Oops, we thought it was Stellenbosch – oh no – what have we done!”  but you can never be sure how far your sense of humour will carry you when dealing with guests, (the spectre of Trip Advisor looms large) so we stick to the truth, though occasionally I just shrug and wave cheerily at the beautiful view and say “That’s why”.

SO… for those of you who have never been to Swellies:   here are some of the reasons we chose Swellendam, and also some of the reasons why we hope never to leave here. And I shall print the page out and silently place it on the Breakfast table next time Mr and Mrs Chatty and all the little Chattys come to stay.

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

The mountains are always changing

BEAUTY: Swellendam is stunningly beautiful.  The mountains which shelter the valley in which Swellendam lies are always changing: you can never get tired of the shifts in hue, the effect of light and shade as the sun rises and falls, occasional dramatic golden fringes when fire takes hold, the sparkling waterfalls after heavy rain, in winter the crisp white frosting, and the ever changing effects of clouds – folding and rolling over the top.

Thank you to David Schlapobersky of Bukkenburg Pottery for this picture

“In which lies the beautiful church”

HISTORY:  The town is stuffed with history and the beautiful architecture of the buildings give testament to the vision and tenacity of the early settlers. The NG Kerk is one of the most photographed churches in South Africa, and the Drostdy Museum is a far cry from the stodgy brick dull museums of my UK childhood.

Bloemfontein Huisie

Bloemfontein Huisie, originally housing Jack and Anna Bloemfontein and their twelve children, and still in the ownership of the same family – is a reminder of the simple life – unencumbered by technology. There are all sorts of wonderful stories about the Swellendammers of old – who (allegedly) declared Swellendam a Republic and the Hermanus Steyn the President of the world. Prior to colonisation, the area was home to many tribes of the Khoisan People and the grave of Laang Elsie, tall female tribe leader of one of the fourteen local tribes can be seen in Bontebok Park.

Bontebok Park

NATURE:  Bontebok Park itself – a real undiscovered pleasure and treasure.  The smallest SANpark in South Africa  – but not small in terms of its biodiversity, its blomme, bokke and birds. It may be small, but my daughter and myself managed to get ourselves thoroughly lost on one of the marked trails – (too busy talking as usual). It is home to Cape Mountain Zebra, Bonteboks, Hartebeeste, Grysbok, Springbok as well as many species of birds and reptiles, and also, surprisingly,  the Swellengrebel Airfield.

“one of the top hiking trails in Africa”

And on the subject of nature, there is also Marloth Mountain Nature reserve, stuffed with flora and fauna, with one of the top hiking trails in the whole of Africa! You can walk to the waterfall in one and half hours, or, at the other extreme, take the five day walking trail. I confess to having done neither, somewhat suspecting that the waterfall walk would turn out, in my case, to be the five day one.

More in my comfort zone of a car, it is a 50 minute drive to De Hoop Nature reserve, which has to be one of the most beautiful places to watch whales in season, and worth a visit at any other time of the year.

Berries!

BERRIES:  Swellendam may not be the capital of the world politically, as the Swellendammers of 1795 chose to believe, but it is certainly the berry capital of South Africa. The stunning Hermitage Valley is the natural setting for berry farms, and between November and December berry picking, berry eating, berry jams, berry cheesecakes, and other berry pleasures are a major feature of life in Swellies. 90% of the youngberry crop in South Africa is grown in Swellendam, and if you have never tried youngberries, then get yourself to Swellendam for berry season.

Berry Cake at Schoone Oordt Country House

GOOD FOOD: Swellendam can really rival the better gastronomically known areas of the Western Cape.  The restaurants and guesthouses are all owner-managed, and thus the care and passion with which the food is presented is deep and it shows!  I am not a cook, so, in our house either long suffering Husband cooks, or we go out for a meal, therefore quality, variety and budget is extremely important on a personal level, let alone as a option for our guests. It is possible in this town to eat out in a different restaurant every night on consecutive evenings, and have wonderful food, great service, and meet wonderful people.

PEOPLE: well, this is a whole new blog entry, so Why Swellendam? Part 2 will be coming up shortly, with Arts and Crafts, Birds, Faeries, Music, Action and Adventure, More about Restaurants, Wine  and — the main reason why we live here: The People!

At the back of the information books we leave in each room in our guest-house are extracts from the diary which I had kept religiously for my daughter to read, so she could follow the progress of our life in South Africa. I am startled sometimes when guests pass comments at breakfast about events in our early days as if they know us. I re-read them the other day, and was amused at our enthusiasm and naivety.

So, if it is not cheating to use seven year old material , I thought I would share some of these extracts on this new blog. We arrived in the summer of the “Eskom melt down”, so there are many references to power cuts which will bring back memories to South African readers!
February 22^nd  (Day 10) Prioritising

I have continued to be very busy working on the house. Dave steadily works away, getting a great deal done, while I become full of enthusiasm for various tasks, which I then become bored with and leave ‘until later’. So far these include:

A resistant block

Painting the bedroom (decided I didn’t like the colour, so have stopped for now – anyway, I got a blister) Knocking down the breeze block wall (got stuck when I met a resistant block – anyway, aggravated the blister) Making a cushion cover (didn’t even get started as got bored after unsuccessfully trying for over an hour to thread the needle)
Tasks I have finished:
Painting our letterbox and sticking an Impangele on top. (I am not very artistic as you can see from the picture)

An impangele (guinea fowl) on the top

Dave is very patient with me and kindly does not pass comment. He would like it if I was a bit braver about going into town on my own, but as on the only occasion I have done so far, I got a puncture and then held up the queue at the garage, because after they fixed it I could not start the car. Also had a choking fit in the local Spar and then got lost coming home (which is almost impossible to do as it is a very simple journey, but I somehow managed it).
The house is incredibly clean and tidy due to Beauty’s efforts – there is one small snag – if you leave any item of clothing out – it is washed, dried and ironed, dirty or not – my painting trousers are spick and span, and so obviously I don’t want to ruin them by actually doing any painting!
We still don’t have Internet connection, a bank account, a visa, glass in twelve windows or a power point for the cooker – but as power cuts are more frequent than my unfinished jobs, it hardly seems to matter.

March 4^th Day 20  “I expect it will fade with time”

A tad too bright?

On Thursday we made a start on the front of the house. I was so looking forward to getting rid of the ghastly pink and the horrible dirt marks on the paintwork, which came from years of gutter leakage. I had chosen the paint – Essence – that was a blend specially mixed for us (which we had to drive (40 mins) to the next town, Robertson, to organise).  I thought that it was a very pretty and subtle colour and was sure that the neighbours were going to be equally thrilled at the transformation. After painting the front wall on Thursday evening, we went to bed, ready to get really stuck in the next day. However, things never look quite the same in the morning, do they?

More paint on himself than the roof

We still ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ about the improvement, but secretly I was thinking ‘It might be just a tad too bright?’ We carried on nevertheless. Dave, being colour blind, did not feel he was in a position to judge, I felt unwilling to admit I might have made a mistake, and neither of us wanted to face another drive to Robertson, cashing out for more paint and then having to repaint the front. Our next door neighbour, Don, drove by, shouting ‘I like the colour!’ and I felt momentarily reprieved. But then he spoiled everything by adding – ‘It is the undercoat, I presume, and hope?’ Paranoia came rushing back.
We painted until we ran out of paint, and then went down to the Swellendam Skou. It was just like stepping back in time to 50’s England, with a Princess Swellendam (all of four years old) in a shiny frilly frock being smugly crowned, surrounded by bewildered runners up all in versions of the same frock, watched by proud / furious parents. (There was, of course a power cut, so it took place in semi darkness). There were stalls selling all kind of tat, my favourite one being a stall manned by a great big Afrikaner, which sold weapons – guns, knives etc, and also, bizarrely, hair ribbons, colourful plastic bangles and other girly things.
After  trying every wine in the wine tasting tent, it all became a bit of a blur. This could have been something to do with the power cut, but I suspect it had more to do with the generous amounts of fabulous wines that were presented to us.
As we drove home, I was anxious to see what the house looked like with a fresh eye. It looked bright. Too bright? I was still unsure.
Far too sozzled to cook for ourselves, we went to Koornlands for a meal. This is a great little restaurant run by Steve and Mariana, our other neighbours.  I asked Mariana what she thought of the colour of the house. ‘Steve hates it,’ she said, ‘But I don’t mind it. I expect it will fade with time.’
I spent most of the night lying awake with visions of Essence covering everything I looked at. This morning I finally admitted to Dave that I really wasn’t sure about the colour. The relief on his face was palpable. So, we are off to Robertson tomorrow.

April 22nd “an outfit for all three  occasions”

Just in case you have been worrying that our life is all work and no play, let me tell you our social life is really looking up. On Thursday next week, we are invited to Friends and Neighbours Bingo at the Bowls club. We have to take a snack and a pencil. Can’t wait! This will be straight after we get back from Cape Town for our appointment with the Minister of Education and Culture about the Nyanga Project, and an interview with SABC  – now I am going to have to find an outfit that will be suitable for all three occasions……

May 16th “pissed out on the floor“

Dave found Beer Powder. Oh God.
How to make your own Xhosa Beer. Pour into Bucket . Add Water. Leave to develop strange texture and disgusting colour over night. Scrape off Scum

Scrape off scum.

Drink pale brown scummy sour stuff with big smile, saying ‘now I am a real African’ (Dave), or ‘Blecch’ followed by a quick trip to the loo (Me) to spit it out subtly so as not to offend Beauty and Matthew who are both Xhosa.
Dave was somewhat overwhelmed with uncharacteristic generosity later that day, and presented Beauty with the rest of the Beer. She was very funny when she came to work on Monday. ‘I drank the beer with my friend and we both pissed out! Both pissed out on the floor after singing many songs’

June 26th   “the enchantment wears off…”

So, the power is off in Swellendam. It’s a planned power cut and it is from 8 in the morning until 7 at night. And we wake up at five past 8, so no coffee for us. Then we remember our indoor braai, which we light and boil water on it, to subsequently realise we only have coffee beans and an electric grinder. So we think bugger it, let’s go out for the day.

Slightly larger than expected!

We drove down to Infanta, thinking we might catch an early Whale. (well not actually catch, more catch sight of). On the way there we pass an ENORMOUS porcupine. I didn’t realise that I had never seen one in real life before, because I had always imagined them to be just a little bigger than a hedgehog. This was the size of a small pony! Ok, a large dog. We reverse to see if we can get a photo and also so that Dave can get a glimpse but it has disappeared. We stand very quietly, and then Dave whispers, there he is, and the massive thing galumphs along past us into the bush. So exciting – particularly as they are nocturnal and so rarely seen!
We carry on to Infanta, and there, waving their tails around in the air and smacking them down, is a family of whales. You just cannot get photos of them though, because they stay under water while you are waiting patiently, camera focussed, and at the moment you lower your weary arms they breach and spy-hop or whatever the technical term is. But it was amazing, nevertheless.

The Very Heavy Cat, whose charm soon wore off.

We have been invited to spend the afternoon with a pub in Malgas and to stay overnight in their guest cottage, so that drinking can be done without inhibition. And they do not have a power cut, so we are able to watch the footie after all. They make a fabulous potjie,  and we listen to the a CD of Dave’s UK band and drink a lot and make huge plans to fly the whole band over for a Sunday afternoon gig.  When we finally make it to the guest cottage, we find a fire burning in the hearth, and a white cat in residence, and we are enchanted by the whole thing.
The enchantment, however, wears off as sobriety kicks in, the (very heavy) cat wants to either lie on top of us purring very loudly, or go out, or come in again, (four times) the fire burns out and it’s bloody freezing, and the extra blanket smells so we can’t use it ( I found crusty cat poo on it in the morning), and then our car alarm goes off waking up the whole village (with one exception) . Needless to say, Dave sleeps through the whole thing.

July 14th  “fifth gear down the mountain!”
Why? Why? Why? Why is it that at my advanced age I still do not know enough about myself to realise that as the most uncoordinated, cowardly, weakest, unsporty person I have ever come across, it is not all right to suggest  quad biking? Especially to a group of teenagers from UK who are expert in all sorts of ways to nearly kill yourself.  A two hour trail through rocky hilly horrid mountains. How could I have thought it would be fun? When we reached the top of one of the mountains, I dismounted (creakily)  and said – ‘Just look at that!’ making a grand sweeping gesture. ‘Look at what?’ says Josh. (leading devil teenager) “That amazing view!’

Me leading the rush!

‘Oh that. We don’t do views. We’re too young for views…..Let’s get back on the bikes and go in fifth gear down the mountain!’

So they did – I preserved my dignity and descended in first gear – then lost my balance, disappeared into the bush and committed the cardinal sin –put my foot down on the ground to stop the bloody thing. Result: a very nasty injury.

Six months to heal

(Postcript written in 2013: the cut became infected, it was six months before I could walk without a limp, and I have a large permanent scar. One consolation, being old means no one actually looks at my legs any more)

September 23rd “this time we will smile”

‘We seem to have the prison service doing our garden for us’, says Dave, peering through the window at 6.30 a.m. And sure enough, five jolly chaps and their equally cheerful warder were outside carefully digging up the weeds around our agapanthus. All the houses here have a bit of land around the house which belongs to the municipality, and everybody just treats it as if it belongs to them, planting stuff and mowing etc. We took them some juice as it is very hot today, and also it seemed pragmatic to stay on the right side of them!

One more for the children

They posed for a photo in exchange for cigarettes and you should have seen the excitement when I printed a copy of the photo to give to them – and  I was asked if I would take another one – (‘this time we will smile’) – so that they could give them to their children. (I was a little bemused at the fact by the kind of role model they were hoping to present to their kids) They were also extremely proud when I asked if I could post the photo on the Internet!

 ‘Did you do these on a computer?’ ‘Yes — and don’t come back and nick it.’ General hilarity.

January 25th  “rainbow nation”

 As we planned a party to celebrate the fact we have survived a year in South Africa, Dave and I were talking about all the great people we have met from every race and creed, and how the term ‘Rainbow Nation’ is very apt.  As we chatted, two things happened which seemed to underline this – first, we catch sight of a magnificent comet, and secondly, lit in the night sky, a tough looking black guy walks along by the road, carrying his stick , and wearing a pair of bright yellow bunny ears.  I may have done many regrettable things in my life —but coming to live in this crazy country is definitely not one of them!

If you have enjoyed reading these diary extracts I have a few more, including “the day the TGCSA Inspector called”, “Bird wars,”  “The Biggest Spider ever”. Just leave a comment at the bottom to let me know. Thanks for making it this far!

In fact, the check-out lady in the local supermarket was the one who gave me the most sure indication that we were doing the right thing, when she leaned forward and said ‘I am so jealous. You will never have to iron anything again.’

Choosing between a life with no ironing in a country with a high crime rate, and a life where I would have to work until the age of 83 to pay off my mortgage, and keep ironing for the rest of my miserable life…… it was a no-brainer. As we had discovered on our travels, the violent crime associated with South Africa is most prevalent in the sprawling cities, and not in the smaller rural towns.  And, as mentioned in a previous post, Swellendam is not bestrewn with burglar bars and high walls, because we don’t need them.

THE IRON LADY

We had only been living in Swellendam for two days when we employed Beauty, who has since made it her mission in life to teach me how to behave like a ‘Madam’ should. She despairs of my tendency to scruffy clothing, and she takes care to point out to me local ladies who are dressed like ‘proper’ Madams.   (This usually involves floral skirts worn decently at calf length, and hip length over-blouses).  Sadly, it appears that Beauty herself has become corrupted by my casual approach and now owns several pairs of calf length jeans (which come down to her ankle, as she is vertically challenged) and strappy tops.  Apparently, because she lives in Swellendam this is OK, as her husband’s more traditional Xhosa family live in George, so can’t see her.  And the ancestors are looking the other way.

WHAT NOT TO WEAR….

If ever we get a chance for a breakaway, Beauty insists on packing my suitcase (everything perfectly ironed) to make sure that I am dressed smartly and guards it fiercely so that I can’t remove or add anything. Though sometimes I discover on arrival at our destination her choices have proved somewhat inappropriate, (it’s not easy to negotiate the dunes at De Hoop Nature Reserve in a sparkly top, pencil skirt and high heels).

Having Beauty and her family (Simon and their two daughters, Nolyvuyo (16) and Nosphosihle Amanda (6)) in our lives has been an enrichment in many more ways than just having a wardrobe full of perfectly ironed clothes. She is a bright woman who left school early, and never considered herself intelligent.  Her command of Afrikaans is equal to that of her mother tongue Xhosa. Although she now speaks full idiomatic English, with a cut glass English accent, initially there were some misunderstandings.  She came to work one day saying, “we (her friends and neighbours) had a long discussion about appetite yesterday, it was very upsetting, I am feeling very, very sad today”.  As Beauty is quite a traditionally built African lady who enjoys her food tremendously, we were puzzled as to why appetite was a potentially tragic story.

It was some time before we worked out she was referring to apartheid.

THAT GOOGLY THING

There have been some other misunderstandings regarding language and culture. Beauty came up with the idea to provide Xhosa Feasts for the guests at the guesthouse. We jumped at the chance to give her an opportunity to develop her own business as well as enhance our own. Xhosa Feasts were duly added to the website and it was not long before a request came in from some guests who had booked in for a few nights.

The following conversation ensued between Beauty and Madam.

B: What am I going to cook?

M: (puzzled)   Well, I don’t know, for goodness sake, I’m English!  What actually is traditional Xhosa food?

B:  I’m not really sure – can’t you use that googly thing to find out?

M:   But you must know, what do you eat at weddings and family get-togethers?

B: (light dawns)  Kentucky Fried Chicken, of course!

(M gets rapidly onto the googly thing)

M:    It’s samp and beans, mfino spinach, baked chicken, mealie pap……

B: (interrupting)     But that’s what we eat all the time, who on earth wants to eat that..

M:        ..sigh….

The feasts have been very successful, and have given Beauty an additional source of income: it is her fervent desire that Nossi, the little one, will get a good education, so any spare cash she gets goes into the “Nossi Treasure Chest”, which is firmly screwed down, ready for opening on the day Nossi is ready to start school.

Beauty’s greatest love is décor, and she is responsible for many of the elegant touches and extras around our place. Her second greatest love is shopping – and after that, her lovely family.  Her self-confidence has grown along with the business, from being a domestic worker initially, she has become an efficient manager, staff-trainer, receptionist, and handles the booking software and the googly thing with aplomb! She retains the privilege of ironing, however, as she feels, and rightly so, that no one can match her perfectionism.

“Madam” and Beauty have become fast friends, despite every effort on “Madam’s” part to remain a professional employer and keep a respectable distance from the employees. We have been through a lot together – including running out of petrol in the middle of nowhere, when on a trip to the hospital for her antenatal check-up. In 42 degrees heat: Beauty was eight and a half months pregnant, and the only life forms available to help were a very curious troop of baboons, keen to share the impending crisis. We had a nine year old child (Noly) and no water. (And no airtime) To find out how the story ends – make a booking at Impangele, where Beauty and I have begun to write a book together about our adventures! Beauty is going to be doing a guest spot on this blog very soon – you don’t want to miss that one.

The Old Gaol on Church Square

Little did I realise that this simple concept and excellent name would become my child to rear – and little did I realise that this sweet infant would grow into a monster of gigantic proportions!

 Swellengram is an online community information service – it started with a small database of local friends – and has now grown to a participant reach of over 1000.  It is picked up by other local information services and so its viral reach is possibly twice that.   Initially the idea was to make sure people in Swellendam knew what was going on in the town: events and specials.  By offering free advertising to restaurants and businesses only if they were doing something special, the community would benefit from the increased amount of special deals.  As a community service I decided to add requests for local information and opportunities for lift sharing. This has grown exponentially into lost dogs, lost parrots (there was a veritable rash of escaping parrots a few weeks ago – they were probably all looking for Louis) (see previous blog entry) jobs wanted, jobs offered, accommodation, and all the usual stuff. But the difference from this and any other information service, is the persona of Mrs Gram, who adds her own spin to the information and to the titles awarded to the most interesting Grams.

The pseudonym of Mrs Gram was awarded early on in the procedure and she has grown her own personality. She is loved by many, and once people realise who it is, they will hug her (me) or press gifts into her (my) hand on meeting in the street, and Mrs Gram received far more Christmas emails than I did.

Mrs Glam aka Martyn Turck

Mrs Gram organised a charity do called SwellenGlam (luckily she has a willing husband who plays in a band) where yet another alter ego arrived, “ Mrs Glam” (Martyn Turck, local fruit farmer  from  Wildebraam Berry Estate)  on the back of a Harley Davidson) dressed in Pink Lamé with shiny purple wig and feather boa, long false eye lashes (also pink)  set off delightfully with a pair of green wellies and a pipe.

Mrs Gram also took it upon herself to play Cupid on Valentine’s Day and suggested that if people emailed their Valentine messages,  she would send them anonymously.  A Swellengrammer then offered a prize for the best one, and Mrs Gram suddenly found herself the recipient of some of the worst poetry in the world.

During the few days of unrest, mentioned in a previous blog entry “Fire” Swellengram acted a bridge for communication of facts.  Rumours were flying and occasional panicky moments occurred, but Grams were based only on fact (Mrs Gram sent long-suffering husband out into the streets to assess the situation and report back)

Like me, Mrs Gram struggles with Afrikaans, and has to rely on “Google translate” for many of the incoming Afrikaans grams. If they arrive in English, that is how they stay, as Mrs G does not want to risk ridicule by trying to translate the other way. She already suffered slings and arrows when she wrote about Tow Trek.

SPILL CHOCKER

But most of all she struggles with the temptation to send out Grams that arrive with spelling mistakes that have passed the spell check and given a total different meaning to the original Grammer’s intention.  Occasionally she has missed one or two.

One local restaurant was shocked at the outcry caused when Hot Steaming Cinnamon Nuns were presented as their special of the day.  After an apology for the mistake,  a greater outcry ensued because it turned out everyone WANTED Hot Steaming Cinnamon Nuns on the menu. So do visit Pennantwing when you are in Swellendam and ask for their Nun speciality. If nuns are off that day, at least the rest of their stuff is excellent!  Recently a gentleman was searching for two roosters, which he wanted very badly.  ‘Roosters’ was not the word he used but TWO COCKS WANTED BADLY did not seem to be the right turn of phrase.  The above mentioned green wellies also suffered an unfortunate vowel change when Mrs Gram was ‘gramming’ her news about SwellenGlam, causing much hilarity and a red face for Mr Turck.

Apparently studies have been done which show that the perception of a quizmaster is that he/she is more intelligent and well informed than those participating contestants, despite the fact that all he is doing is reading out the questions and has the answer on a card.  It would appear that the same thing is true with Mrs Gram. She is considered erroneously to be the fount of all knowledge. She (dressed as me) is frequently accosted on the street and asked such things as When was Swellendam declared a republic? Is there someone here who can service my boiler? Where can I get two cocks? When does the pub open?  Can you give me ten rand for some bread? (OK that last person may not have realised that he was speaking to Mrs Gram, but he soon did when Mrs Gram showed him a very empty purse.

There is no money in it for Mrs Gram, but she enjoys the goodwill it engenders, and also is always first to know about events and bargains.  If you have a Facebook and would like to check it out – it will be one of the best ways you can find out how we Swellendammers roll!

We made a conscious decision not to have pets of our own when we opened the guest-house, precisely so that we could accommodate people travelling with animals, so our little morning visitors are really not welcome, but they don’t seem to take the hint, however forcefully it is dropped.

Asb! Take off this Engels scarf!

The current regular is a little Jack Russell, who has an unfortunate scratching habit and is definitely not the most attractive example of her species. She is an Afrikaans dog, though however much we try “Huis Toe!”  and “Voetsek” she affects not to understand our English accents, and looks pleadingly at whichever guest she happens to be pestering, as if to say – ‘see how cruel your hosts are, they are not animal friendly at all’ (but in Afrikaans, obviously) .  Then off she goes to find a place where the guests will shortly be wheeling their luggage to leave a brown parcel for them to help them remember our guesthouse. Obviously we don’t know her name, though husband has come up with some choice epithets for her.

Dog loved to play dress up

She is a poor substitute for our previous regular morning visitor – again, Afrikaans speaking, but much more accepting of our lack of language. A border collie, highly intelligent – once again nameless, but we imaginatively called him “Dog”. The house rule is not to feed visiting animals, but it was impossible to resist the limpid eyes and waggy tail of Dog.  Dog always ran for sticks and refused to give them back, Dog loved children, Dog would accompany guests on runs / walks / hikes through the Marloth Reserve at the back of our house, Dog never left poo in the garden.  Dog and our latest canine visitor both developed the habit of dozing away the day on our garden furniture, but at least Dog responded to “Uit”  “Af” and “Neer”. He was the best sort of pet to have:  we had all the pleasure and fun of a dog companion, with no vet’s bills and no expensive dog food. Guests fell in love with him, children adored him, and he would guard the house for us during the day when we went out.

I have no idea where his real family thought he was during the weekdays, but every weekend Dog would dutifully do his Family Pet duty, and we would see him walking past our house, obediently, on a lead, with a faint look of boredom on his face, beside his family on a weekend walk. When they reached our house he would cast us a little panicky and conspiratorial glance, as if to say “Don’t give me away, don’t call me, don’t recognise me” – so we played along. I wish now that we had made the effort to get to know his family, because after a year of growing to love Dog unconditionally, the family moved away – we didn’t know that they were planning to go, and so did not get the chance to say goodbye.  I still miss him.

Snake capture

Another uninvited animal visitor to Impangele, was the boomslang which decided to inhabit the vine which shades our breakfast area.  Fortunately we have a brilliant “snake lady” who comes to collect snakes and take them away – though her arrival while the guests were actually eating their breakfast rather gave the game away. We had, as you can imagine, been very circumspect about our little visitor, just casting the odd glance upwards to check Boomy wasn’t joining us for breakfast.  But the guests thoroughly enjoyed the African spectacle of the Snake Capture – and subsequently posted pictures all over the Internet of the “snakes at the guesthouse”.  Not really how we want our place marketed…….

Not all our animal guests are uninvited  – some indeed are booked in along with their owners, and we enjoy getting to know them, with the odd exception.

“Cuddles’ the Rotty

A pair of lovely, if very dotty, ladies booked in for Christmas a few years ago, and at the last moment told us that their beloved Cuddles would be joining them and us. We imagined Cuddles to be a cute fluffy Maltese poodle, but the car pulled up, boot opened and out leaped Cuddles  – a large black Rottweiler with a baleful look in his eye, who was fiercely protective of his elderly charges. Serving breakfast became a scary and life endangering experience, though the ladies remained sweetly oblivious of the low pitched murderous growling emanating from under the table, and the large yellow teeth from which ravenous saliva dripped as Cuddles lusted covetously after our ankles.

Louis the African Gay

But my favourite guest has to be Louis the African Grey parrot.  Owned “since he was an egg” by a delightful gay couple, Louis decided to join us for breakfast.  (“he’ll just have a little scrambled egg and an incy bit of toast, darling” ) I asked one of his ‘Daddies’ if Louis could speak. “Of course he can”  was the indignant reply. “We’ve taught him everything he knows”. So, in that parrot type voice that everyone puts on when they converse with talking birds, I repeated “Hello Louis, hello Louis”.  Louis looked up at me, lifted his right claw and waved it effetely – and then said, in the campest way imaginable “Hellllooooooooooo, sweetie”.   More African Gay than African Grey.

Oak smoked salmon

We are so lucky in Swellendam to have great restaurants – definitely something for everybody. We have one of the top Italian restaurants in the Western Cape, and at least three other fine dining establishments in heritage buildings.  Family restaurants, coffee shops by the river, under the oaks, opposite the big white church, wood fired pizzerias, pub grub: really, truly something for everyone.

 “How much easier it is to be critical than to be correct.” ― Benjamin Disraeli

If you don’t know what Trip Advisor is, think yourself lucky. It means that you do not run the risk of having someone in your home or eating your food, who potentially is able to tell the whole world on the Internet that you are ‘lazy’, or that your “loo is unclean”(even if it is spotless). You do not run the risk of someone telling the world that your house “overlooks a squatter camp” (when the truth is it overlooks the Langeberg mountains, but that person runs a competitor business, so chooses to lie). You do not have to suffer the indignity of someone saying that there is “no atmosphere” “nothing to see” and a “waste of time” for anyone to visit you. You do not run the risk of losing business because someone tells the world that “you must rather go somewhere else”.

New opportunities opened up for the “amateur critic” through the medium of Internet reviews. Whenever hospitality providers in Swellendam get together, the dreaded subject of Trip Advisor is never far away from the conversation.  However much we claim we don’t care, the truth is that most of us know exactly who has a good review or a terrible one. Most of us know exactly where our guest-house or restaurant is placed on the list, who is top, who is struggling, who is writing their own reviews, and who is paying friends to write reviews! (If we don’t know, we are quite happy to make it up!)

I have been privileged over the last seven years to get to know most of the owners of guest-houses and restaurants in this beautiful town. Without exception, they are hard-working people, who take pride in their businesses and they work hard to market and promote Swellendam, along with their core business of providing a high standard of accommodation or cuisine.  In this town, every tourist can easily find a place to stay or a place to eat that suits their particular requirements.

In Swellendam, tourism is the second largest industry (after farming) supporting economic growth, providing employment, and encouraging  investment .  Every new Rand brought into Swellendam circulates, bringing benefits and increasing opportunities for all, rich and poor, young and old.  It is incumbent on all  residents of any town whose economic prosperity depends on tourism to act as ambassadors, and present to the outside world a positive picture.

‘When we judge or criticize another person, it says nothing about that person; it merely says something about our own need to be critical.’ Unknown

So, my plea, to all residents,  to  business owners, to everyone who really cares about the potential of your town  – please don’t put your desire to become a critic and have your moans and groans displayed out there in the big wide world above your need to live in a prosperous and thriving town. I fully support your right to an opinion, but I do not recommend that you share it with those who will be planning their holidays and choosing whether to spend their money in your home town or “rather go somewhere else”.

If you are not happy with the service, food or accommodation, speak to the owners directly. Preferably at the time, so that they can put things right for you then and there.  If you prefer not to confront them directly, then ask your local Tourism Organisation to intercede on your behalf. If the visitor to town wishes to make a justified criticism, this is fair enough, but you, as a resident, should have the sense to realise that you are damaging the reputation of the town, as well as your own relationships with other businesses. If, on the other hand, your experience has been a positive one, the opposite applies.  Help support our local restaurants and tourist attractions by sharing with the potential visitor the best experiences they can have in this beautiful place.

And, to those of you who have suffered at the sharp end of the opportunity that Trip Advisor offers to every person who considers themselves qualified to judge your humble offering, I offer you this: “Don’t bow down to critics who have not themselves written great masterpieces.” Lawrence Ferlinghetti.