Am constantly punishing myself with the pauper pipe dream of owning a little place in Franschoek one day. This swallow will struggle to nest in any of her special places. But visit she can, and never anything but an absolute pleasure.
Walking through the streets with Susan, a dear friend who owns a house and garden I believe one of the most beautiful in the world, I am in excellent company. It is Saturday, and beyond Le Quartier Francais, past the highly acclaimed new Woollies, long desired, now neighbours with Rubens., lies the Saturday market. I am an addict for offerings at markets.
The weather is cooler that yesterday and my English skin welcomes the shade.
My suitcase limits my purchases, but looking is luxury here. Objects created from driftwood, beaded artwork, skins and reclaimed furniture, something that will appeal to everyone. Ambling around the food section, I found myself in the presence of food I only see here – koeksisters and pannekoek. Afrikaans heritage food. Next to the Indian spices, Malay delicacies, a small united front of global cuisine, on the trestle tables, in the market.
Clearly the gathering place of locals, some who have completed the ‘walk’ for a coffee and catch up. Tourists linger.
City girl here, needs her coffee fix and to the Terbodore coffee truck. Banter about comparing coffees with the barista who has never heard of Starbucks. No matter, his coffee is superior.
Franschoek has much to offer. For me, visiting a friend and being part of the local life gave it that extra rosette. The diary is marked for a return visit.