We have experienced countless holiday dwellings as we’ve meandered close to home and road tripped across South Africa over the years. Now #him and I are ready to share with you what we think makes a place special, self-catering tips on what works, and what those marketing words could be hiding.
YAYS
Simple things set the good places apart, leaving you with fond memories and a wish to return.
1 Decent linen and pillows: Apart from a comfortable bed, nothing beats cotton sheets and nice pillows, replaced every so often. Polyester can feel so bad – especially when it has bobbly bits – that you don’t even want to get into bed. And not everyone loves down pillows; I can’t stand having a bunch of feathers around my face.
2 A top sheet: On a hot summer night, no-one wants to sleep under a duvet. Nor do you necessarily want to sleep without any covering at all. I have often slept under my kikoi; a nice sheet would be better.
3 Salt: For us, this is THE sign of a good establishment. Does it include salt, pepper and perhaps a small amount of oil? Our stars include herbs, spices and filter coffee (and plunger or other coffee-making tool). In Mbombela (Nelspruit), our lovely farmhouse offered olive oil and a range of herb teas. In McGregor, we found a bottle of wine and the nicest toiletries in our adorable cottage.
These things don’t cost a packet to supply, and we look back on the experience – that’s what it is – with pleasure.
4 Outside lights: We appreciate being given the means to control outside lighting to avoid little suns shining on us at night.
OH, NO
1 An “open” toilet: It’s icky and far too common. In Springbok, an otherwise lovely unit with a stunning view was marred by a toilet separated by a curtain from living and sleeping (I’m told that has changed, so we will likely return there). In Gqeberha (Port Elizabeth), #him found the toilet plonked, throne-like, in the middle of the living/sleeping/eating area; luckily, he was travelling on his own that time, but it’s still not nice.
2 Stinginess: Outside Niewoudtville, our cottage had precisely two knives, two forks, two plates, two mugs and two glasses. It also had just half a roll of toilet paper. I approached the manager – perhaps an oversight? “It IS self-catering,” she snapped and grumpily handed me another half roll. The closest shop was 15km away, and we’d waded to the farm in a deluge, at night. We comforted ourselves in front of the fire, which shared the hearth with bowls to catch rain from several large leaks. To add humidity?
3 Not for guests: We loved the tasteful apartment close to the beach in Yzerfontein and stretched our budget to rent it. We didn’t love not being given Wi-Fi access, particularly as there was no Vodacom signal – and we could see on our phones that the owner indeed had Wi-Fi. When I asked (again, an oversight?), she said she would have to charge a lot more if she let us use it. In Sardinia Bay, we were told that the jacuzzi on our allegedly sea-view balcony was for the use of the owners, not us.
4 Misleading pictures: In Graaf-Reinet, we thought we had rented a charming period cottage. We got a front room right on a busy street with furniture bolted to the floor and a smelly, airless bathroom.
5 Just yuck: In Tsitsikamma, the towels in our cottage smelled like vomit; there was also not one cleaning cloth. Near Port Alfred, our cottage had fantastic views – and water running constantly down the lounge and kitchen wall, over the electric plugs and over the sleeper couch that counted as two beds in this six-sleeper unit.
THOSE ADJECTIVES
Some words popular in rental descriptions send me running away, two in particular:
1 Luxury: Our “luxury” suite in Gqeberha had scratchy polyester sheets, flat things formerly known as pillows, and a toilet with a saloon-style door that covered part of the door opening and didn’t close anyway. We had to wash our crockery and cutlery in the bath. The booking platform ended up partially refunding us. But we learned a lesson: if it’s really luxury, the owner does not need to tell you it is.
2 Budget: He looked at us down his nose and declared: “Oh, you’ve booked into the budget unit.” We have? In fact, we’d paid a little more than we usually do for this accommodation in Tulbagh. It was dirty. The stove did not work. The “balcony” was less than a square metre, adorned solely by an overflowing ashtray; to get to it, you had to walk through a door in the shower. “Budget” can so easily become an excuse for neglect.
Labels, frankly, seldom reflect reality. Like the apartment in Eswatini with the word “silent” in its name: it was right next door to a building site, and it pounded and throbbed to a nightclub from 5pm to 5am. Call the label wishful thinking.
Of course, you are unlikely to know about the lurking nasties until you’ve stayed in a place or unless a friend has warned you or recommended a unit. It’s helpful to read reviews carefully and check for mentions of, say, linen and kitchen supplies. And ask the host directly if you’re not sure about things like a door on the toilet or availability of Wi-Fi and extras.
It’s really about getting back to basics and adding little special touches. Happy discovering!
interesting piece
Thank you!