A few weekends ago, the husband, our friend Willem, and I set out on a road trip to Rosendal, a tiny town in the Free State. It's an anual weekend away organised by some friends of ours. The trip, we had been told, would take three hours. Six hours later we arrived at our destination. I have to confess though, that this was due to misdirection, more than mis-information. A banquet took place on the Saturday night, and all we were all tasked with the mission of heading into town and buying an item of "clothing" (clothing here being loosely defined), for another banquet-attendee to wear. This gave us a great excuse to explore the town. Since the town is literally two blocks and a scattering of buildings, with not a tarred road in sight, this task was completed between a scrumptious breakfast on a sunny porch and a late afternoon lunch on a goose-down farm.
Small towns are quite bizarre. They are at once familiar and other wordly, a slow-down of life where locals debate politics over a two-hour coffee, where vintage stores smell like decaying lace of a long-forgotten wedding dress, where normal questions like "What time do you close?" are met with a look of confusion. Stray cats, handsome cockerels, an art gallery filled with gems and trash, a museum of old brands, the odd treasure amongst broken chairs, musty coats and hats and gloves, and old-fashioned prams with creepy dolls...
You know exactly what I am talking about because you have been there. Some small town in the middle of nowhere, where you stroll along dusty streets and life seems a lot simpler.
Small towns are quite bizarre. They are at once familiar and other wordly, a slow-down of life where locals debate politics over a two-hour coffee, where vintage stores smell like decaying lace of a long-forgotten wedding dress, where normal questions like "What time do you close?" are met with a look of confusion. Stray cats, handsome cockerels, an art gallery filled with gems and trash, a museum of old brands, the odd treasure amongst broken chairs, musty coats and hats and gloves, and old-fashioned prams with creepy dolls...
You know exactly what I am talking about because you have been there. Some small town in the middle of nowhere, where you stroll along dusty streets and life seems a lot simpler.
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