8. - 14 Dec.: Knysna golf and tour

Today we take it easy after the intense pace of the last few days. Breakfast at the Pezula golf club, sitting in a wide terrace under a blue sky. Full English breakfast with the most appropriate African enhancement of tropical fruits.

We then go and try some golf. It is my first time ever and I kind of like it. I can see how it can become addictive. Just try some putts for now. I am quite excited so I run to gather my balls after shooting my first set too far from the flag, only to be gently reprimanded by Mike who intructs me that one never runs on the golf course lest the impacts of fast feet landing on the delicate grass should dig holes that would distort the game. OK lesson learned.

My first ever golf ball

We then drive around a bit and explore the Pezula property. About 400 hundred lots, some two thirds of which have beed developed into beautiful villas of various sizes. Eighteen golf holes naturally, plus all the infrastructure that makes this a world-class course. It seems that most owners, who are by right members of the Golf Club, don't even play golf at all, but enjoy the setting, the scenary and the company.

Dinner is at a family run restaurant downtown, Pembreys. Well appointed yet informal and warmly welcoming atmosphere, with excellent fish from the region, and of course Cape wines. The owners are Vivian and Peter Vadas, who besides their lives share a passion for Mediterranean and especially Italian cuisine. Their son Peter John has moved on but not before he absorbed his parents' dedication to high quality food, and recently has become the chef of a top notch restaurant near Cape Town. I opt for a pair of excellent Cape soles, nicely grilled and served with potato wedges.

Much to my own chagrin I decide not to drink nearly so much as I would like. Alcohol tests are apparently taken very seriously here and spending a night in a local prison (the usual penalty for speeding, it seems) is not my idea of an alternative, off-the-beaten-path journey through South Africa.

Another problem with driving home is that the speed limit changes every few hundred meters and, while I strive not to exceed it, Mike tells me not to go too much slower either, lest I become suspicious as the police think I can't cope with the allowed speed. It's a little stressful to keep within the narrow speed range that will keep the police away for either reason - I did drink a bit after all. But eventually we make it home in one piece and can cap off the night with a little grappa.