This winter, we planned to travel to Clarens for a few days. However, we chickened out—the chill was just too much. Why travel somewhere as cold as at home? Still, our feet were itching for adventure. So, at the last minute, we decided to visit Parys—a little town in the Free State near Johannesburg, affectionately known as the 'Paris of South Africa'. I'm not sure why Parys is called Paris. But swap the 'y' for 'i', and there it is.
Parys is a haven for antiques hunters and weekend wanderers from Johannesburg. The last time we went there was in September, 2018 for a cycling event. After leaving no stones unturned on our bike, we had so much fun exploring souvernir shops and antiques stores. We saw a few replicas of Eiffel Tower in different sizes throughout the town. Parys lives up to its name!
This time, when we went back to Parys, the Eiffel Towers were still in our sight. However, many a shop was gone. Yesterday, a quirky antique shop that evoked nostalgia, was now history. The covid-19 pandemic had killed off many small businesses.
Surprisingly, we spotted The Ugly Ducklings here—the same quirky shop we had seen in Dullstroom. Perhaps they have expanded to several touristy towns.
Strolling along the main road packed with numerous shops, HoChi the Jack Russel led us into a biltong shop. His favourite snacks are biltong and droëwors. I believed he had not seen the signboard, but had caught the aroma of biltong.
 |
| HoChi tremendously enjoyed the trip, as he always does when going for a drive. Now and then, my husband would slow down and roll down the window for him. Without hesitation, HoChi would stand with his front legs on the window ledge, stick his head out, and inspect every little thing that passed by. At other times, he wouldn’t even curl up on his bed—just dozed off occasionally, his head bobbing forward before he would blink awake. I’m sure he did not want to miss a single moment of the excitement on the road. |
The Vaal Barrage and Berry Farm
Our first stop was the Vaal Barrage. We relied on Google Maps—our Garmin couldn’t pick it up—but to our disappointment, the area was no longer open to the public. Like many other places, you could admire it only from behind the gate. I had spent ages searching online—only to find it now was locked behind gates, untouchable.
Disheartened, we made our way to Bon-Af Berry Farm, just nearby, hoping for a better experience.
 |
| The farm’s entrance glows with warm, earthy tones—a quiet welcome steeped in rustic beauty and the memory of seasons past. |
 |
| The berry farm now is resting for winter! |
The farm was quiet and eerie. I had a quick chat with the owner’s daughter, who shared their story with gentle sadness. Two hailstorms and a harsh black frost had wiped out their entire berry farm. She hoped spring would bring revival. During this quiet off-season on that day, we were the only visitors.
She kindly invited me to explore the upstairs museum. As soon as I stepped up the wooden staircase, I felt like I was lost in the old times of South Africa. I walked around and examined every item—full of stories waiting to be heard.
Many a thing was reminiscent of South Africa's history. However, I only photographed the items that sparked my interest. Refer to the photos below.
 |
| Heroes who fought to the end in the Boer War between the British and the Afrikaners |
Then I wandered through the garden which was bone dry and yet mysterious. Dry leaves and weary grass were crunching beneath my vellies* as I walked. But this time, I was accompanied by another soul of the farm. Kind and hosiptable, she showed me around.
 |
| A couple of white flamingoes are standing guard over the mysterious corner. It looked inviting and serene, but I did not step in to look around. |
 |
| The very old lawn mower has now become a decorative item that lends a vintage and nostalgic vibe to the garden |
First, she led me to the back to show me the cemetery of the family that was established in 1839. That was impressive!
Then she shared with me the stories of the proud pyramid and sun watcher, both of which were built by the other lady's father—currently on holiday. Each gate of the pyramid varied in length and height. She explained that if I stood barefoot in the centre, with one hand on the handle for seven minutes, I would feel positive energy streaming through me.
 |
| The whimsical pyramid stands proud in the garden |
 |
| The sun watch with the pyramid in the backgorund |
She claimed that she had tried it herself and it worked—not a myth.
I did not try it. My husband was waiting, and my dog was crying for me. I wondered if I had missed this little magic because perhaps I would not come here again. Now or never!
Walking back to the restaurant with the museum upstairs, I picked up a bottle of redcurrant jam from among the many kinds of berry jam. I never leave a farm stall empty-handed. I was excited to taste jam made from this berry farm—but more importantly, I wanted to support a local business. Plus, I make jam myself—all kinds of jam from seasonal fruits—so, I was eager to taste someone else's creation.
 |
| I bought this jam—bursting with the rich tang of redcurrants, mellowed by just the right touch of sugar. |
Spotting a strange citrus tree laden with fruits, I asked if I could have a few citrus fruits. I requested two, but my farm tour guide generously gave me four. She explained they were a mix between lemon and grapefruit. When I held them close and took a sniff, I could smell the grapefruit right away. Out of curiosity, I couldn't wait to taste them when I got home. I cut the smallest one—it tasted just like lemon. As for the other three, each twice the size of the one I cut, I planned to make jam. I'm sure it would be delicious.
 |
| The citrus tree is actually a lemon tree, but its fruits are shaped like pears. |
Back inside, she asked if I had seen the upside-down tree. I hadn’t. It was a massive tree, adorned with all kinds of collectables. Its bark was smooth and sleek—like strands of silk.
The Bridge and the Monkeys
Before checking-in our self-catering cosy flat, we went to visit the suspension bridge—a must-see spot in Parys. We were welcomed by a mother monkey along with her busy brood—four little babies. Her tummy told me that she's still breastfeeding. As soon as the four little monkeys spotted us, espcially HoChi, they darted to the other side of the bridge and vanished among the trees. Only the mom stayed put, hopeful for food. Sorry, feeding monkeys is not allowed!
It was the first time HoChi had seen baby monkeys. He was so excited that he ran to them like an Olympic sprinter. However, the rope from his harness, stretched taut like a whip, yanked him back—and he froze mid-stride, wide-eyed like a statue. Time seemed to stand still for both him and me in that moment.
The bridge swayed beneath our feet, making it feel wonky. Our poor dog was not keen on walking ahead as he is always. Instead, he crawled like a cat on a tin roof.
The bridge is just wide enough for two people to walk in tandem. Just like in Paris, it is the place for romance. Couples come to lock their memories here.
 |
| HoChi the Jack Russell enjoyed every moment of his Parys adventure |
Close to the bridge, a solid bench waited beneath the open blue sky. It looks so inviting, a perfect spot for people to sit down and soak in rushing water— like a symphony of nature. When we arrived, two ladies with children of varying ages— likely a three-generation family— sitting there, chatting softly. When we left, they left too, strolling off together. Their easy pace suggested they lived nearby.
As I traced the river with my eyes, I noticed how smooth the rocks were. They are polished by years and years of flowing water. Nature’s quiet persistence reminds me: perseverance is key in life.
The Fishing Man's Tale
To explore the Vaal river, we took a stroll further down. Some people were enjoying themselves along the riverbank. One man just sat on the rock in the shade and admired the river. Not far, but far enough to preserve each other's privacy, we spotted an elderly man fishing. He had five fishing rods going at once.
I asked him if he had caught any fish. He said he had. One time he caught a 5-kg trout; another time he caught one that was over one kg. He throws the small fish back into the river, as other fishermen do. This reminds me of people in Vietnam—once they catch fish, big or small, they eat them all.
That said, my husband always vividly pictures the tiny silver fish I used to cook when he asked what I ate for dinner, back when I lived in Vietnam.
Then my husband asked if he ate the fish. He said he gifted them to the two young men sitting at the curve of the river not too far from him. They had no income; they would sell them to get some pennies.
His generosity warmed me. But there was a sobering note in the story. Life in small towns isn’t easy—especially for young people from poor background. With jobs scarce across South Africa, and even more so in places like Parys, opportunity feels just out of reach. According to the latest Quarterly Labour Force Survey, youth unemployment has climbed to 46.1%.
As we chatted, the fishing man had a little story to tell. He and his wife used to live in a big house in another Free State town. As they aged, they found it too big, too much. They sold it and moved in with one of their children. However, they felt something wrong—they did not have freedom as they wished. Visits are wonderful, but long-term stays do not bring peace. So, they moved again. This time, they bought a one-bedroom flat in Parys. Although the flat only meets their basic needs, it gives them back something they had longed for—independence.
Now the fishing man is a happy camper. After helping his wife with some chores, he goes fishing. His wife stays home and spends time knotting. They find joy in simplicity.
A Treasure hunt for Book Lovers
Wandering along the street with HoChi vigorously pulling along, I spotted a board with elegant letters written in white chalk. It read: Second-hand Books. As a bookworm, I had an urge to step into this bookshop. My husband was happy to receive 'our child' so that I could wander through the bookshop. It was not big, but big enough for book enthusiasts to lose track of time.
 |
| The entrance of the bookstop lends a whimsical and inviting look with a gentle touch of nolstagia and mystery |
As soon as I popped in, a tall lady greeted me. In an instant, she provided me with a short plastic ruler, about the length of my palm. “ Use this to mark where you take out a book,” she explained. Her name is Rene, one of the popular names for females in South Africa.
Every few moments, Rene would come and check if I needed help. Seeing me with a book by Bosman, a famous South African author, she exclaimed: he writes very well. I replied: Yes. He writes beautifully. I read one of his books. I was obsessed with the way he painted South Africa with his words. I had found three books of his, but I wasn't sure which one to choose. I really wanted all, but I could afford one because I knew I would likely find other books I couldn’t leave behind.
Rene understood me perfectly, and encouraged: Take one and come back again for the rest. I smiled: that's a great reason to visit Parys again.
On the next shelf sat a collection of of novels by Wilber Smith. I told the lady that I had read one of his books. She curiously asked me which one. When the Lion Feeds, I replied.
And I shared with Rene that his young wife used the money he left to build a museum in Cape Town so that people could come and admire his legacy. She smiled, her eyes sparkling: It's amazing that this year marked 60 years of his profession in writing.
Scanning the shelf at the end of the cosy bookstop, I spotted some books by Amy Tan, which were on my reading list. The Kitchen God's Wife, The Joy Luck Club, and a few others. As you can imagine, how can I not pick any? I chose the two books I had just mentioned.
Hearing my stories, Rene was astonished that I had read many South African's books. I confided in her that I love reading.
I left the bookstop with three books, one by Bosman and two by Amy Tan. I felt great like a hunter who just found treasure. At the same time, I felt guilty as well. I haven't read some of the second-hand books I had bought. And now I bought some more.
Seeing me off like a close friend, Rene wished me joyful reading and a wonderful holiday.
 |
| Before cocooning ourselves in the thickest blanket we could find, we took HoChi for a walk so that he could do his business, since our cosy flat didn't have a lawn. He walked with a spring in his step, which made us so happy. When he's happy, we're also happy! |
That's it for my winter blog. Tata for now. See you again in spring!
P.S.
The cosy self-catering flat we stayed in is called Pillow Place. You can easily find it on Lekker Slaap.
