Hlanathi Caravan Park (South Africa) : in a grand arena

S 28º 39.606’ E 029º 01.983’ (elevation: 1273m)
The countryside along the gravel road that passes through the south-eastern foothills is fairyland-like - almost too pretty, too neat, too arranged, too perfect. There are half-mile long tree-lined entrances to estates, groups of horses on lawn-like fields and the majestic purple-blue mountains, which are reminiscent of an oversized canyon wall. Almost overdosed on the scenery and a little tired we arrived at on of the area’s highlights, the eight kilometre long rock-face known as the amphitheatre. The setting of the backpacker where we planned to spend the night was stunning. However, because all we wanted to do was to check in and wanted to skip their “standard check-in procedure” which felt like twenty questions about our doings of the past few days, the receptionist got visibly irritated. When we decided to go elsewhere as we felt quite uncomfortable with the arrogant atmosphere, she blew her top, ordered us out and slammed the door on me. Fortunately it was not my arm but only the bag I was carrying that got caught in the door! It was by far the most negative experience with local people during our eleven months in Africa. The alternative we found was a real gem. Off the main road and many kilometres closer to the amphitheatre, we had a grand site to pitch our tent on. And there the welcome was quite different. Our neighbour (caravaners) walked up to us with two beers in his hand the minute we started unloading the bike.