Cuisine, Sunscreen, Tambourine I've Seen '17

Looking back on a year brings back sweet memories. It’s through hard times that we take note, but it’s in the cool afterglow that we can sit back and let our hearts and minds recall the good times. This has been an amazing roller-coaster year. My 60th!

My mind has been churning with thoughts, words, and emotions all day. I’ve spent time with my children; I’ve discovered new places and countries; I’ve eaten foreign food; I’ve played with my grandbabies; I’ve met wonderful people; I’ve celebrated life-changing events; I’ve laughed and cried; I’ve been happy and sad. I’ve been overjoyed and disappointed. I’ve felt angry, frustrated, misled, often beguiled, loved, sad, and surprised. I think disappointment is always the hardest to come to terms with.

I never got to my New Year’s resolutions; then again, I can’t remember having any. What I do know is that most were forgotten at conception. 2018 will be no exception; e.g., my cupboards are still a mess; that top drawer with all the bits of string, ribbon, copper cents, buttons and Hilti nails will remain a mess. Chances are the Christmas tree will be stuffed back into the top of a cupboard with all its tinsel, to be dusted off again 12 days before Christmas. I will not sew buttons on shirts; ironing will be my pet hate; the linen cupboard will puzzle me no end; what has become of all the pillowslips? I’ll have to start an eating plan on 3rd January. Spinning classes, yoga, and dancing to Jenny’s tune are not an option; my ageing body demands it.

One of the year's highlights was reconnecting with the fabulous five—my boarding house best friends from 1972. We celebrated our 60th birthdays together, rekindling a bond that has endured for decades. Despite being scattered worldwide, our friendship remains unbreakable. High tea at the Cilo was a wonderful reminder of our enduring connection. Thank you, Cheryl, Lynda, Jenny, and Michelle; you are such a vital part of my life.

The annual lunch with the class of '74 was, of course, undeniably fabulous; it's always a joy to catch up with these incredible women who have been part of my life for so long. We're still the best thing that ever happened at Rhenish, and I look forward to reconnecting with these amazing girls in 2018. They're evergreen, solid, beautiful, and very amusing.

I do believe travelling is the greatest teacher, and we should all try it, not necessarily by travelling to other countries, but to other towns and villages in our own country too. Travelling on a shoestring is possible; believe me, I did it by saving every last cent. It was often challenging, and as my departure date drew nearer, I felt nervous, hoping, doubting, and agonising. My confidence hit an all-time low when I had to hand over my completed visa application forms with the “certified” bank statements; what would they think? Not much to go on. I got my visas; that was the point! My budget would hold out. The rewards far outweighed my anxieties. 

Lise and I walked, talked, laughed, cried, struggled, and made it from Porto, Portugal, to Santiago, Spain. Being a Peregrino, a pilgrim, was fantastic, not just a walk in the park. We were challenged both physically and mentally. Every morning began with hope and gusto; many evenings left us exhausted and in pain, physically and emotionally. We struggled with our feet, swore at our inadequate boots, and when we could take it no more, left them on a little wall high up on a mountain and slipped into our trusty flip-flops. Butch joined one week before the end; having a cheerful raconteur with us was wonderful. The Paella put a stop to all his hiking aspirations when he took ill, having forgotten his allergy. We were disappointed, but with miles to go, we slogged on.

Entering Santiago was both emotional and awesome; we had done it. We proudly posed for photographs with our certificates, which I’ve framed for posterity. While I was elated to spend time with my lifelong friend, Bronnwyn, who’d come all the way to Santiago to celebrate my birthday, I was sad to think my daughter had to return to Canada and that our time together was drawing to a close. Time is the great healer, and soon my toes were fine. The sadness, although never quite buried, did dry up as Butch and I winged our way to Italy.

Our Italian tour has only fuelled our desire to return one day. The villages and cities we visited were breathtaking. We loved the food, wine, people, and architecture. Art everywhere: modern, masterful, and creative, on walls in the streets and in magical museums, castles, and palaces. I couldn't get enough of it all. 

We both returned with all our senses satiated. We spent every last cent on food and came back with wine and charcuterie for dinner parties and tapas platters. Of course, we couldn’t resist the leather goods: a handcrafted handbag, and I even had the chance to buy a lovely dress to wear to my son’s wedding later; the fridge magnet went into my wallet. We rolled home with a bright yellow wheelie suitcase, packed chock-a-block.

My new toenails had hardly taken root when I was packed and ready to go on another Fish River Canyon hike. The second time round was much easier on my body. I loved sleeping under the stars again, and our fireside conversations deep into the night felt like re-reading a much-loved favourite book.

I always rush home, excited to hear about the progress on our Honey Badger, the Overlander truck we’ve been converting for almost 2 years. Sadly, things haven’t gone as planned. 

We were fortunate to enjoy two weekends away, chugging slowly to our campsite and spending wonderful times with my brother and sister-in-law, who are seasoned campers. These excursions were a good way to get things done and speed up the work, as I was becoming impatient.

The blow came unexpectedly when we discovered that our truck was 2 tonnes overweight. We were devastated, as we'd invested so much time, money and effort into the project. After much hand-wringing and endless sleepless nights, we took the plunge and decided to start from scratch. We removed the old “box” and replaced it with a brand-new insulated composite one.

Work will resume in the New Year as soon as the architect completes our plans for the electrical, gas, and water installations. I am optimistic and confident we’ll have our wheels within the first quarter of the year.

In the spring, my neighbours and I got together to celebrate Sarine's 89th birthday, and she is going strong. She is an inspiration to us, and a day's road trip over the mountains to Franschhoek is uplifting; the atmosphere is unmistakably French.

I set off for Canada with great excitement, first to reconnect with my darling Grandson, now a big boy, and to meet my newest Grandbaby! He is adorable. 

I experienced the first snowflakes of winter and marvelled, awestruck, at the beauty of the pristine white landscape and the surreal igloo-effect light at night. My bubble burst when the snow melted, and everything turned grey. Muddy, cold, and depressing, the landscape became garbed in its institutional grey. But Neil and I had fun on a toboggan; his grandma became quite inelegant as she zipped down the slopes at top speed. Just before I departed, we had another light dusting of snow; my first thought when looking through my viewfinder was, "This is cookie-tin perfect!"

Blue, yellow, and red are the colours of Mexico in my mind’s eye, and after a cold spell they are most welcoming. It would be the first time in years that I’d enjoy a holiday with all my children. I can't recall seeing many sombreros, but I did see a Chihuahua.

What made it even more special, of course, was that we were celebrating Joe and Emily’s marriage. Sun, sea and tequila cocktails would be the order of the day. For a week, we all relaxed, caught up, made new acquaintances, danced, laughed, and celebrated the young couple's happiness. The beautiful bride made an elegant entrance, and the handsome groom eloquently expressed his deep love for her. I am proud of him. I am delighted she accepted his proposal; she lights up his eyes. We all returned to blustery Canada, golden-tanned and refreshed.

We celebrated an early Christmas, with a beautiful tree and all the usual trimmings. Santa Claus made an appearance, delighting and startling the children as he descended the staircase, then posed for photographs. Soon, the room was filled with wrappers. There were happy smiles, and I'm sure a few disappointments too.

Our last supper is always peppered with regret; it signals that, all too soon, my stay is over. With a deep sense of loss and utmost sadness, I returned to South Africa. The long flight was tedious as I sat sandwiched in the middle seat. My head never settled as I lumbered home. The worst bout of jet lag settled in like a demon, putting a stop to any aspirations I had of making another trans-Atlantic flight soon.

And so the year finally spun around, and it was Christmas again. I spent a joyful day chopping, slicing, grating, steaming, and simmering in the kitchen, preparing a summer luncheon for the garden. The weather was kind, and we enjoyed a glorious day with friends and family around our table. By the time the last guests left, well into the night, I had no leftovers and the fridge was bare. A resounding success, I’d say. 

I spent Christmas with my family; what more could I ask for? While unwrapping my gifts, a thought struck me. I am 60 and catching up with my parents; they’re only 23 years older than me!

It took us a day to pack up again and head off to the West Coast. We pitched our tents at a tiny campsite and rang in the New Year in proper Laaiplek style. The wind howled; the music was deafening but good, with a songbook full of golden oldies and boere musiek; the pizzas were scrumptious; the company was excellent; and the locals were cosmopolitan, friendly, and hospitable.

With deepest gratitude, I look back on my year and know it’ll be hard to repeat, though I've shed tears too. My mentor, friend, and bridge partner for almost thirty years, Melene, passed away suddenly.

One of my favourite friends, Jurie, an incredibly special light in my life who shared my love of cooking, gardening, books, and bridge, has, it seems, moved away, and I miss her. Who will remember her stories and jokes? Many of my book club friends, who’ve shared my passion for books for 37 years, have retired and relocated, leaving a huge hole in my heart. These women shared my secrets and watched my children grow up and leave the nest—my comrades in arms. We were 13; now we are 10.

It was with utmost shock and disbelief that I heard that my childhood friend, the sister I never had, a fabulously talented needlewoman and crafter, always tackling life with optimism, was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour days after turning 60. My words will never be adequate to express my heartfelt concern.

I have no comforting words to offer her as she bravely endures invasive treatments and disabilities. Yet she courageously encourages us, loves her children, and enjoys her two grandsons. My heart is broken, but I believe she will make a full recovery. We will sit on the stoep in our old age and reminisce about our carefree childhood on an African tobacco farm and our holidays in Mozambique.

My only wish is that we all have a very Happy New Year, filled with prosperity, good health and, above all, LOVE. Aren’t we lucky to have a page-turner every 365 days, when we get to start all over again, afresh? I am only halfway through my fabulous 60th year; I look forward to many adventures, surprises and fun. There are many stories to tell, adventures to have, places to visit, food to savour and experiences to share. 

Last thought. Is it only our family that makes group photographs so difficult? Try as we might, we never have that Annie Leibovitz moment. Even Santa is hooked on social media, or is it a last-minute detail? My little prince wouldn't even look up, let alone stand like Lord Fontelroy on a pile of first editions! That is life.