Without any formal introduction or apparent persuasion, it escorts us back into the womb, yet not the womb from which we were birthed. Rather, the womb of an aunt, a place that’s familiar and nurturing and loving, but no place we’ve ever been before. It holds us and softens our stance. It makes us smile the broadest smile. It tickles our tummies and flicks our hair back. It reminds us of ourselves before we knew who they were to become.
It reawakens that child that’s been yearning to go seek and discover, to sit still and ponder. Just like that, the shoes are off as the gardens beckon our bare feet. We’re off to play with the surety of freedom. As it is with those great aunts of ours, instilling that untamed purity into our strides, so it is as Sterrekopje. Where the verdancy of the land and the heritage of its homestead becomes a treasured acquaintance that somehow always manages to bring out the truest side of ourselves.
Settled in the Franschhoek Valley on 50 hectares of olive groves, fruit orchards, vineyards, vegetable, herb, and medicinal gardens, meandering pathways leading through long grasses, wildflowers and fynbos constellations, a swimming dam and natural swimming pools, a perennial garden and a chakra garden, secret gathering spots beneath ancient oaks, and timeless water troughs and ponds with Waterblommetjies dancing on the ripples, this hideaway is an unraveling interpretation of its history of the land, sharing its story from the soil to the stars.
Having been in a farming family for five generations, Sterrekopje has been ardently regenerated into a sanctuary by its new, discerning custodians and her honorary family of chefs, farmers, practitioners and artists. In keeping with the rhythm of nature and her abounding attributes, the farm serves as a place of solace, where you and your great aunt can rekindle your affection with intention. To rest, to play, to learn, to create, to grow, to connect, to sit still, to listen and to let go.
Whether you’re traveling with your clan or simply with yourself, Sterrekopje implores you to let the land, its animals, its mountain air and its restorative philosophy to steer your inner ship in the direction of your soul. What’s integral to your own stitchings. Without being too dogmatic about it, you are invited by Nicole and Fleur to experience a three-day, five-day, or a seven-day journey that will parlay into a lifetime.
You’ll rise upon your own clocks from one of the 11 suites, and enjoy a hot brew on the stoep. Or on a sofa beside the fire in your private, cavernous living room that’s adorned in antique collectibles and local artisans’ signature pieces, timeless tapestries, kelims and rugs from near and far – all in keeping with the sanctuary’s subtle statement on inimitable style.
The indoor and outdoor bathing spaces incite more repose. An early morning dip or a few sun salutations and stretches on the yoga mat, followed by a long meander around the gardens will work up an appetite for the delicious breakfast feasting in the kitchen around the big table, or in the Orangerie where the stems and foliage of the outside carry themselves in.
Or in the garden adjacent the ancient olives, where your wonderful tales, and the cackles of laughter they ensue, ricochet around the courtyard. You’re at liberty to dirty your hands in the garden, foraging for goodness. Spend some sacred time in the Hammam. Perhaps some pottery in the atelier. A bit of baking in the kitchen. Reading, swimming, resting and singing with the breeze.
When night falls, it’s someone else’s turn to tell the stories as you gather around the table in the sunken garden, gazing up to the stars. Moments of reflection around the fire ceremony before retiring to your room. The fireside chats are likely to resume in your own space. Or another soaking in the bath with some pink Himalayan salts and a sprig of lavender. Essential in escorting you back to the womb. Where you’ll climb into that slumber and dream of little other than that happy, little child, skipping through the long grass, barefoot and brave in a curious rapture.
Reviewed by Colleen Ogilvie