NOT George of the jungle;
NOT a secretly stashed-away boyfriend;
IS a town called George.
What can I say about George? I felt like I was back in Bloemfontein. In the restaurant, I hear Afrikaans. At the garage (South African term for petrol station), I hear Afrikaans. I hear Afrikaans everywhere. Hui morah.... yeah... whatever! Now I understand why I was told that George is a very nice place, it is dominated by the Afrikaans! Another town where virtual subtitles are needed to understand what the heck they are rattling on about. Back to the nasal "nah" nation of South Africa. God save our souls!
By the time the golf game finished, it was late and definitely stomach growls can be heard. Yes. Another familiar Bloem-factor of George, the place was dead by 8 p.m.. Good grief. We first checked into the "Wilderness Beach Hotel", supposed 4-stars rating. Decent rooms and nice lobby. And there's a lonely grill-bar next door which has a pathetic selection of food on its menu. At this point, AA was still baffled but had somewhat resigned to fate that SA's hotels do not have the provision of refrigerators. Ice-buckets and 5 wine glasses please!
Chew drove us out in search for a decent restaurant to dine in. We settled for seafood and yes, wine AGAIN please. If you have not figured out by now, we were making steady progress to becoming alcoholics. We blame it on one person.... just ONE person....
Momento of Wilderness Beach Hotel (Taken on the day we checked out)
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