Remembering La Residence

 

 Meandering through my matted mess of pink knockout roses, purple passion flower, and giant yellow sunflowers -- once lovingly cared for, now seemingly forgotten -- I felt myself drifting away, drifting back to the home of the white iceberg roses and flowering purple salvia and golden grape vines. Drifting back to the mountains with the green-striped fields, fields that looked like God had personally raked and manicured the yard himself. Drifting back to the peaceful valley of impeccable charm – charming hosts, charming home, charming gardens.

La Residence in the Franschhoek Valley, and our residence for the last days of our South African trip, was the peak of grandeur, yet oddly, its grandeur didn’t make me feel small or insignificant, but important and invited. And oddly, when my own garden is a less-than-grand, tangled mess of weeds, I’m not inspired to write; yet today I soon lost myself in one delightful memory after another of the time we spent in the fragrant land of the white roses.

I thought my friend Gana had prepared me for the elegance of La Rez, one of her favorite places, and my friend Gana is the most travelled friend I know. But she did not. I thought my son Reid had prepared me for its grandeur. He hasn’t travelled as much as Gana, but he’s travelled a great deal over the past eight years he’s worked for Ker & Downey. But he did not. And then there’s the La Residence website, which I thought had prepared me for a fabulous treat in the wine lands of South Africa. But it didn’t either.

La Residence is more than beautiful, the staff is more than gracious, and the food is more than delicious. Delicately dropped in the Shangri-La setting of the fabulous Franschhoek Valley, La Rez is indeed more than grand. And even though we were traveling Americans on vacation, we were treated more like invited guests visiting friends who wanted us to enjoy their incredibly elegant, yet warm and welcoming home. And what I soon discovered was that friends nor words nor pictures are able to do it justice; La Rez is a personal experience I had to have for myself to understand how special it is. And regardless of how hard I try, my flowery prose won’t do it justice either for La Rez is a poem waiting to be penned.

La Residence was all about the details -- consideration for our personal needs and interests -- and from the moment we alighted from our car and were greeted by Evan and the staff, the world revolved around us. Whatever we showed an interest in, they were interested in it, too. When I mentioned I loved gardens, Edward, the general manager, guided me through the spectacular rose gardens where in addition to the blinding-white icebergs, there are 27 varieties of roses. (I think that’s the number he said.) From our balcony the glistening, white roses seemed to hover mistily against the blue-hued mountain tops; close up, they were even more heavenly. More than once I exclaimed to Ian, “Now that’s what I want my garden to look like!”

And as we strolled by the prolific, pink bougainvillea, our cameras in hand, I’d forget to take pictures because I was so enamored with the vision, a vision reminding me of the Antique Rose Emporium back home, and a vision that left me hopeful, hopeful that my own garden might speak one day as this one does. And also a fragrant reminder that even though I was visiting South Africa from the United States, we speak the same language, the language of nature and beauty, even if we live on opposite sides of the world.

Later, when I inquired about a specific fruit tree in the garden, Edward had the fruit cut, demonstrating its unique qualities and leaving me wondering why I hadn’t paid attention to quince before. From a small tree, quince -- a golden pear-shaped fruit with a glue-like sticky center -- is the fruit Edward called “a confused guava.” Which opened another opportunity for me to learn as Edward also had a guava cut so I could compare the quince to the smaller, rounder, and greenish guava with a reddish center, an apple-like fruit that some people think, I found out later, might be the fruit referred to in Song of Solomon 7:8 when the bridegroom hopes that the fragrance of his love’s breath will be like apples.

And then before we left, as I once more complimented the staff on the amazing eclectic décor, including the marbled black and white floor and the high, rough ceiling beams, Edward explained it was all about East meeting West. I, for one, was glad I had come from Texas to experience this merging myself.

The apricot-peach Just Joey roses, the Ethiopian-blended coffee, the buffalo fountain’s gurgling water, the caramelized pear French toast, the occasional squawk of a duck, and the overall serene stillness made me forget myself even as the staff did not.

And when it was time for us to catch our flight back to the states, leaving La Rez was like leaving family. They didn’t want us to go, and we didn’t want to go. And even as we reluctantly climbed in the car, friendly banter and camaraderie -- an antique crystal chandelier that needed “hosing down” and the miniature Yorkshire terrier named Miela who belonged to one of the staff and talk about emotional goodbyes while in the midst of an emotional goodbye -- was still going on all around us. And then, a friendly kiss on both cheeks from Edward, Evan, and more of the fabulous staff, cold bottled water perched on the seat in our departing car, and two Shetland ponies galloping to us at the gate as if to say, “Don’t go!” permanently sealed the contented smile we wore during our perfect, peaceful visit at this grand villa, one whose sweet-scented gardens I hope to meander through again one day. Until then, I’m quite sure I will repeatedly drift away to La Residence as I meander through my own.