A welcomed escape from the rat race
I come from a family of itchy feet. My parents regularly indulged their wanderlust while they were courting, and the same adventurous spirit has lasted 28 years of marriage. As they would strap my brothers and I into car seats or wave us off at the airport, with our ‘unaccompanied minors’ lanyards swinging from our necks, they always reminded us that travelling was a form of education.
“It’s important to see the world if only to understand that people live differently to you, ” my father would begin, “and different is okay,” mom would then chime in. Now that I reflect, making this my profession seems like a natural progression of that pursuit of knowledge and insight.
They say that travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer. Each five-star hotel, idyllic game lodge, eclectic backpackers, and two-man tent I’ve stayed in on each of my many escapades can attest to that. I’ve learned that some of the most awe-inspiring moments are buried in unassuming places. This is why I arrived at Idwala Boutique Hotel one Thursday morning with absolutely no expectations.
Johannesburg is the central business district of South Africa. Packed to the rafters with corporates, one would assume that all the lodgings that accommodate them mimic the gravitas of their industry. So it comes as a complete shock to my system when my uber driver drops me and my bunkmate off at a stone wall entrance fringed with blossoming trees and a relaxing water feature. It feels like we’ve left the big smoke far behind, and have managed to transport ourselves to a safari farm somewhere closer to Magaliesberg.
We tentatively make our way up a foot path flanked by palm trees, canna lilies and tulips. With each step, logic fights feeling because a location so isolated and quiet cannot exist in what I know Johannesburg to be. Passing an elegantly decorated lapa, we enter the main building for check-in.
Following a brisk introduction by Idwala’s front of house, we are escorted to our cottage - one of 12 on the property. I open the door to a king-sized bed. “We thought you might want to freshen up, so we turned on the floor heating for you,” our host says and I ball my fists in excitement to keep from embracing her.
While I run myself a warm bath, my +1 in inspecting the mini bar. He decides the offering is too modest for his liking, so he ducks out to the bar at reception to get us a bottle of celebratory wine. Though there is an afternoon of meetings I need to prepare myself for, I tease out my time in the tub. There is a chilled glass of Leopard’s Leap Chardonnay in my hand but nothing on my mind.
I only venture as far as Greenside for my professional commitments, which is a suburb over, but I realise how tired I am when I return to yet another filled wine glass and the sun setting behind the shrubs in the garden. Idwala has an encompassing atmosphere that leaves myself and my guest stunned. We are whispering as we wander around the grounds because we don’t dare stir the serenity. The temperature has dropped drastically, however, so we make a beeline for the lapa and warm ourselves by the crackling fire.
I collapse into the chalet after a filling four-hour dinner. Part of me wants to peel out of my clothes and straight into bed, but a greater part of me knows a shower is needed. As I wash off the day, sighs are coming from my bedfellow who is surfing through the substratal selection of channels on the TV. “We’re better off streaming something,” he yields.
By the time I’ve established the borders of my portion of the bed, I’m too tired to have any opinion about the evening’s entertainment. The king of the monsters is roaring as it glows its effervescent chest - and that is the last thing I remember of the film as sleep slowly comes for me, and then grabs me all at once.
Breakfast is faultless. Well, for me at least. My poor bunk mate has an allergic reaction to the crackers on the cheese and cured meats board he’s ordered while I am enjoying my crumpets with berries and candied nuts. After a cup of coffee, we move onto poached eggs on aubergine and Romesco sauce with bacon for the diner seated across the table, and poached eggs on smoked salmon, avocado and cream cheese for me. Both are served with sourdough toast.
The nerves of my pending public speaking debut aren’t the only reason I’m shovelling food into my mouth; everything is incredibly delicious. The few forkfuls of Romesco I negotiate from my fellow diner are quite tart but the fatty bacon and gooey egg counteract it.
It is already evening by the time I return from Timmal Holdings’ Annual Business Women’s Lunch. I am in high spirits following a successful event, and my roomie’s energy is just as jubilant as mine is. But like a comet, our intense momentum doesn’t last. By the time I’ve relived every gratifying moment, both my guest and I are exhausted.
We wake up feeling well rested, and just in time for check out. Throwing our belongings into our bags, we rush to the dining room so we don’t miss breakfast. My poor roomie is apprehensive about the meal following yesterday's culinary catastrophe. He orders the fruit platter and I opt for the muesli cup.
As we finish, my ham, goats cheese, basil pesto and sun dried tomato omelette arrives with my fellow diners full English breakfast.
We’re enjoying our meal when Jeanette comes in to check on us. I cannot stop showering the hotel owner with praise because it really has been such a refreshing experience. “Stay as long as you’d like,” she says but we tell her we’ve already checked out. “Well the weather is so lovely, why don’t you spend some time by the pool or something,” she insists and we agree.
It’s well after noon when we decide it’s time to head to our next lodgings for the remainder of our stay in Joburg. It certainly isn’t goodbye to Idwala Boutique Lodge, rather see you later.
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