Driving along an eternal road, I found myself approaching a destination - or, a beginning. In looking at my rear-view mirror, I saw a long and arduous road. Well-paved, for the many that had travelled it before. In looking over my steering wheel, I saw the same thing...in fact, one could be forgiven for getting front and back mixed up. When I looked around, I saw vast stretches of veld, left untouched...with interludes of artifacts of human incentive - like forlorn fences - absurdly dividing nothing, from nothing.
"In three-hundred meters, turn left.", said Siri - a stern reminder that I'd be best served sticking to a pre-defined path...it felt so appropriate that the instruction came from my little artificial assistant - she, herself, a manifestation of persistent human ingenuity. Alas, with a steady slowdown and my left flicker light having been obediently flicked, I find myself turning left, onto a narrow dirt road. And now, it was time to stop. For this was where I was supposed to be. The last of my clinging to the past and the future was kicking, as I succumbed to the desire to take a photo of the old, beautiful farm gate - with two lonely palasades by its side and a big bold "Kuilfontein", painted on the cracked white wall - as if it really wanted to be noticed by passers by. It was unbeknownst to it that they had their heads turned firmly toward the future. As I passed through the gate, the last of my clinging would subside, as I now found myself, no longer going anywhere, but being here.
The half-kept dirt road leads into a, seemingly unending, tunnel of overhanging trees, rustling in the wind as they're painting the ground beneath with vivid colours of autumn. A moment ago, I was driving on a long, lonely road - in the heat of the midday sun, surrounded by what I thought was nothingness. But now...now, after just a little left turn into the present...now, I find myself - although still alone - amidst a plethora of life. Here, the twighlight sun merely peers through gaps in the canopy - it's abundance and power giving way to the humming harmony of all things present. It's been but a moment; and yet, I can't decribe this place as anything less than magical. I find myself in awe. A whimsy in the pit of my stomach, an emotive lump at the base of my throat; and, a broad, broad smile making its way onto my face. As a arrive at the end of the unending tunnel, I'm greeted by magic amore.
The canopy opens but the sun still knows its place - taller trees, not hanging, but standing strong, in a disciplined fashion, alongside the road - as if they know they are protecting something. Slowly, and mindfully, the architecture begins to reveal itself. Spacious sheep-pens seem to be there for show - don't be confused, they house many a sheep and many a lamb; but, with a couple of younglings wondering freely, out of their pens, it seems the animals are there by choice, not by trap. Even the sporadic fan mills - some turning, and some not - seem to know this is a place to be, or not to be. And then, the white walls avail themselves. A large, symmetrical, cape-dutch house with 1875 advertised above its entrance - large enough to reflect its pride of its age; but, not so bold so as to be showing off. I pull into a parking spot on the still-dirt road, and ready myself to get out...alas, no ready was necessary.
As I open my car door, my senses are tickled. The chirping of birds is as loud as it can be, without being too loud. A whif reveals the freshness in the air - a variety of smells of plants and birds and bees - but no smell so strong so as to stand out above the rest. A couple of women, working women, walk by and, to my surprise, they barely take note of me. It's as if I had already become one with the surrounds. I walk slowly in the direction they came from, to the right of the large cape-dutch house, and toward a set of horse stables, that are no longer horse stables. Entering through a small, already-open gate, I find more people, more life. And then, whilst engrossed by the horse-stables - each converted into a well-kept room, equipped for only the best night's stay - I'm caught off guard when greeted by Patricia, the hostess. With a friendly, gentle smile, she'd show me the direction of my room. "The key is in the door. Dinner will be over there, from 18:00", she says, pointing in the direction of a barn door. "Feel free to walk as far as you'd like, in any direction. Explore.", she says. And then, even before I could properly express my gratitude, she'd leave me be - gentle as her smile - to do as I'd like.
Without anywhere to place my gratitude, I whisper, quietly to myslelf, "Thank you Patricia...I will explore...I will."
"Sometimes you do find what you're looking for, closer than you think."
- Ann Howard Creel