Hiking, Hustling, and the Beauty of South Africa: A Love Letter to Our Country

When it comes to South Africa, I’ve always been one of those irritatingly hopeful optimists. Which is pretty ironic, considering in every other aspect of life, I’m a certified pessimist.

But not when it comes to this place. While everyone else is busy shaking their fists at the sky, blaming South Africa for their bad Wi-Fi, burnt toast, and the unfair parking ticket, I’m over here, still starry-eyed, seeing the beauty in our country and its wonderfully chaotic people.

Honestly, it's infuriating. The constant doom-and-gloom brigade who act like they’re personally being held hostage by this country, yet still haven’t packed their bags. "Crime! Corruption! Load shedding! The government!" Blah, blah, blah. Rinse, repeat. It’s like a national pastime at this point.

And then there’s me—the lunatic in the corner, wildly waving my flag, passionately defending this country, and aggressively declaring to anyone who’ll listen (and plenty who won’t) that this is the best place on Earth.

Meanwhile, everyone else's response is to roll their eyes so hard I’m honestly shocked they haven’t needed medical intervention to retrieve them.

And because I refuse to join the mass hysteria of the doom-and-gloom brigade, I’ve been judged. Oh yes. I’ve been given the look—you know, the one reserved for village idiots and people who still believe emails about becoming a secret heir to a fortune.

All because I’m not actively plotting my great escape to “greener pastures.” And worse—I’m not even drafting an exit strategy for my children. Because, apparently, they have “no future here.”

Meanwhile, I’m over here like, "guys, have you actually looked around? Have you seen the opportunities here?" 

And maybe, just maybe, instead of catapulting my kids to the ends of the earth under the assumption that anywhere must be better than here, I actually want them around. Shocking, right?

And no, not because I’m selfish or trying to “trap” them in some dystopian nightmare—but because I genuinely believe they have endless opportunities in this stunning, chaotic, absolutely one-of-a-kind country, surrounded by resilient, resourceful, and incredible people.

But fine, I’ll admit it. There was a time when I allowed the noise to make me doubt myself. Maybe the great exodus had a point. Maybe I should see what all the fuss was about. So, like a good little sheep, I started planning for my big escape—you know, the one that would allow me to finally set foot on the holy land of First-World Civilization, where the streets are paved with gold, and crime, corruption, and power cuts are just scary bedtime stories.

For years, I worked—juggling jobs, weekend side hustles, forfeiting yet another local holiday, yet another weekend getaway, all for the dream. The dream that, once my children were (sort of) educated and (semi) functional adults, we could finally afford to step foot in some far-off, first-world utopia, where the currency would take one glance at my bank balance, clutch its pearls, and collapse into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

But then that weekend side hustle that was supposed to fund our grand adventure came to a screeching halt. Boom. Gone. No warning.

And strangely enough, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t panicking. I wasn’t suiting up for the dramatic showdown that everyone around me seemed so eager to charge into on my behalf.

Something in me just... clicked. This was the universe shoving me—rather unceremoniously, I might add—toward a different path. And for once, I was smart enough to take the hint.

And after a year of absolutely nothingness on my weekends—no side hustle, no grand plans, just guilt at the alarming amount of spare time I suddenly had—that path turned out to be hiking.

Yes, hiking. The very same mountains and trails that had been sitting there the whole time, patiently waiting for me to stop chasing foreign fantasies and actually explore my own country. And let me tell you—This place? STUNNING. Like, jaw-on-the-floor, can’t-believe-this-is-real stunning.

And that’s when I had another realization: I might never get to those fancy overseas trips after all. The dream of travelling to foreign lands? Yep, that’s slipping further and further away. But you know what? I don’t care anymore. Because every hike, every road trip, every small-town adventure reminds me—I’m already living in the most beautiful country in the world.

And before you roll your eyes, let’s get something straight: I don’t need to compare it to anywhere else. South Africa is what it is, and that’s exactly what makes it special. The raw, unfiltered, chaotic beauty of it all.

Other countries? They can keep their sterile "perfection". We have character. We have resilience, humour, and the kind of unbreakable spirit that you simply cannot fake. We make a plan. We help each other. We laugh at the absurdity of it all because, honestly, what else can you do?

The third-world challenges we face? They’ve kept us humble, grounded, and yes—strong. Our small towns? Our local communities? They’re full of people who look out for each other, who still know what it means to have your neighbours' back.

Hiking opened my eyes to something I’ve always known deep down. I love this place. It’s messy, it’s ridiculous, it’s frustrating—but it’s beautiful and it's home. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And you know what? I’m living my dream. Just a different one than the one I had planned for all those years....but the one that was actually meant for me.

So, to my fellow South Africans: Complain if you must (I know you will). But if you’re going to spend all your time whining about how terrible it is here, I have one simple request—leave. Go. Please. Go find your utopia.

The rest of us will be right here, soaking up the beauty, the madness, and the absolute magic that is our country.