Let’s face it, he doesn’t want to stop at the cute farmstall flying past you at 120 km/h. He barely notices it or the stunningly beautiful landscape around him. In his mind, he is miles away, probably dreaming of a cold beer after bodysurfing a “lank kief” wave with the kids. The only thing he is interested in is getting there, slipping on a pair of hideous plastic clogs, and starting his vacation.
In the back the kids are getting irritable, incessantly wanting to know “Are we there yet?”. They don’t care for the delicious batch of rusks made by a real “ouma” with the care you rarely, if ever, find on a store shelf. They care even less for that gorgeous body scrub made from specific local honey. Fact is. They’re tired of sitting and are perfectly content with off-the-shelf, boxed mediocrity.
You on the other hand realize that the journey matters just as much as the destination. Delighting in the local sights, sounds, and tastes. You know the joy of finding little treasures along the way is just as much part of the holiday as the sun, sand, and braai’s with friends and family.
Sadly, you find yourself to be the one that’s dreaming, the cause has been lost and the horizon creeps ever closer. We’ve been there …