Only twice in my life, have I been the cause of a traffic jam. The first was some years back, when I drove a very faithful car, that lasted me many years. This faithful car, when it then breathed it’s last, did so on one of the main streets in Pretoria, during peak hour traffic, and there I was in my car, listening to the radio, when the traffic report came on and alerted people to seek an alternative route home, due to a broken-down car on the corner of this and that street. I looked around for the broken-down car, as I happened to be at that intersection waiting for help to arrive, when I realised that it was actually me that was being reported on. I made it onto the regional radio station. It is said that at some point, we all achieve our 15 minutes of fame. I guess I had mine that day.
Where we are in Botrivier, we have 2 biggish towns close to us. The one, Hermanus, I have told you about. She is the glamourous, beautiful, and talented sister. But there is another town: the slightly plainer, ordinary looking and under achieving sister. This town is called Caledon.
Caledon seriously resembles a small, dusty pile of debris beside the N2 highway. The N2 highway is a major route down the eastern side of the country. From Mpumalanga, through Natal, down the Garden Route to Western Cape. It is an important road and skirts past Caledon.
As much as we love exploring dorpies, Caledon never featured on our radar. We drove through it once, purely as a means to get to the road that took us through the “Hemel en Aarde Vallei” (Heaven and Earth Valley – translated directly.) I believe it is so named, because in these beautiful valleys, heaven and earth did meet to create astounding beauty. Not to mention farm stalls and wineries. The second time we simply passed the outskirts of Caledon, and this was when we travelled to Aniston and L’Agulhas. So, what took me to Caledon yesterday, by choice? Knitting. Yes, knitting took me there. I am a knitter, and our closest wool shop is in Kleinmond. They are also the only wool shop, and they know it. I asked Aunty Google to find me some other wool shops, and she took me to Caledon. I will get back to this shop, after I have told you more about Caledon.
The very same Google tells me that Caledon is mostly inhabited by the KhoiKhoi community, who were there before all sorts of colonial forces could find Africa on a map. The town’s economy is built on agriculture, mostly Canola, which I told you about in my previous instalment. It claims to have a Mediterranean climate (but unlike Hermanus that looks and feels Mediterranean, Caledon does not. Unless of course there are parts of the Mediterranean that are dusty one-horse towns.) At some point, a local Springbok rugby player became mayor of Caledon, after retiring from Rugby. My brother shared with me that this chap was one of his favourite Springbok players, but that he stopped liking him once he became mayor. Good thing he did not drop that many balls, when he played rugby, my brother said. Oh, and back in 1797, a bath house was built, as it has a natural mineral rich hot spring that bubbles up here. It was later named after some 2nd Earl of Caledon, who was at some point governor of the Cape. Shame, poor man. At least he has some legacy, as for me, I just have a traffic jam that made me famous.
This brings me to my second traffic jam, that I created. Having bought my wool, I headed back. Driving back, I was less dependent on Aunty Google, and as such had more time to look around me. I saw rolling hills in brown hues. Mental note to self: this must be where the Canola will soon grow. Then I spotted brown hued spots on the brown hued hills, and once I focused my eyes, I realised that I was looking at hundreds of sheep, grazing! Now, being a city girl that got so excited about apples growing on trees, you can imagine how excited I became over sheep grazing, especially when I saw all the little lambs frolicking! And here I created the second traffic jam in my life. The N2 highway was not built to create sightseeing opportunities for city dwellers driving less than 40km per hour, it was built for vehicles to drive on rather fast from one province to the next. Once I became aware of much ruckus behind me, I looked in the review mirror, and realised that I was now holding up 2 trucks, one minibus taxi, several cars, and a hearse.
So back to my wool shopping. I followed Google’s directions, and stopped on some main road, where there was not a wool shop in site. I spotted an old lady (because all old ladies knit, right?) and asked for directions, but she was of no help. Two younger ladies then came to my rescue and said that they happen to be on their way to the wool shop, and why do I not walk with them. I left my car parked and followed my 2 wool guides (who must have assumed that I did not know Afrikaans, because as we walked, they were discussing me, saying that surely I must knit, even if I do not look old enough to knit, because what else would bring me to Caledon looking for a wool shop?) on a very long, but surprisingly pleasant walk through the most beautiful little town, past quaint houses, some rather old with the mandatory tall, white gables, past a well maintained, clean public park, where children were playing while the mothers sunned themselves, past a grand old cinema, which now houses a China shop, to a yellow house, where it was announced to me, that this was it. My 2 companions said: Oooo! Die vrou het mooi wolle! (This lady has nice wool. – but said in the local dialect.) and my, did she have nice “wolle” sold from her “voorhuis” (Living room.) And there I was, buying wool not from a shop, but from a person. And yes. She has nice “wolle”. I spent more than what cash I had on me. When you sell from your “voorhuis”, you do not have bankcard facilities, but no worry, she said. Here are my banking details, and when you get home, you can do a money transfer to me. And just like that, I left, with my bag of wool, and the good faith that I will be true to my word and pay when I get home.
And so, I arrived back in Botrivier, having been reminded of a few valuable life lessons:
Never judge a book by its cover. Caledon may look like a small, dusty pile of debris beside the N2 highway, but the town still has the integrity of: Your word is your honour. You have promised to pay me when you get home, why should I doubt you? Indeed, a very strange concept for my Gauteng programmed mind to process.
I got home. I paid the trusting lady. And to do justice to Caledon, I have shared her understated beauty with you. I will be back, and I suspect it will be before my wool supply runs out. There is still so much town to explore.
And now I am going to knit.
Until next time.