” You’re met with the beaming face of Greg Erskine. You’ll be very, very hard pressed to find a more likeable, hospitable host across the African continent, let alone Langebaan. “
By Warren Williams
You turn off the R27. There’s a sense of excitement in the car. You’re looking forward to getting some good old-fashioned Langebaan Lagoon sand between your toes. Perhaps taking a tour of the Langebaan Art Route. A fish braai on Saturday evening. The kids are singing: ‘here we come Langebaan, here we come Langebaan’ as you drive into town. It’s feel-good time again – and so it should be – it’s been a trying year. Working from home in your PJs wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Oh the stress of it all. You unpack the car, then look out across the lagoon as hundreds of seagulls swirl and swoop above Schaapen Eiland. It’s wine ‘o clock so you pop the cork on a chilled Chenin Blanc. Some good conversation, a decent chow and then it’s bedtime. You flop beneath the duvet.
Sunrise. It’s a 20k cycle while the kids walk the dogs. Then a shower. You check your watch. 8.30am. Lekker. Koffee tyd. You bundle the family into the car and head off. Pulling up outside the Weskus Coffee Roastery there’s a lot of discussion going on about who is having what. This one is having a Latte, that one is having a Flat White, the other one is having a Red Cappuccino. Everyone is talking across each other and no one is actually listening to a word being said. In you go. Well, sort of. Because as you hit the door, you’re met with the beaming face of Greg Erskine. You’ll be very, very hard pressed to find a more likeable, hospitable host across the African continent, let alone Langebaan. And then, for good measure, his fine wife Bronwyn comes bounding up, full of energy and charisma. Yip, this is a husband and wife team who have most certainly turned up to take the concept of coffee shop to the next level.
So your convo starts at the door with what feels like long-lost, lifetime bosom buddies. It’s uplifting stuff as you talk about this, that and whatever floats your boat. There’s no pressure here. No feeling that you need to drink up and move on. You place your orders. The legendary Barista team of Roy and Faizo are onto it in a flash. They’re not overly scared of a pleasant conversation either. Blah, blah, blah, good times, laughter. As the aroma of coffee wafts through the air, you begin to embark on what can only be described as a journey of exploration. And there’s a lot to explore here, because this ain’t no humdrum coffee shop friends.
If you’re looking for a pale, miserable, crusty croissant it’s not going to be here. What you will find is freshness. Fresh quiche, fresh sweet treats, fresh yoghurt and cheeses, biltong, biscuits, Darling toffees and more – all supplied by local producers. You move swiftly into buying mode. A jar of quail eggs. Ah, a bottle of Trinchado sauce. Whoops, 2 x Weskus Roastery Coffee mugs that you won’t find anywhere else in the world. An art-piece off the wall. And obviously, a pack of Weskus Coffee Roastery beans to take back home. Make that 2 packs. Yeeeeah. Local is indeed very lekker.
Time to take a seat. You plonk yourselves down. Now by this stage, there is most definitely a sense of serious anticipation. Thankfully, you’re not about to be let down. Delivery to your table comes with a proper smile and a knowing nod that you’re about to schmaak this coffee stukkend. Bronwyn heads over and gives you the Wi-Fi password. The kids are all over it like a rash. Selfie time. Images of your Latte hit Instagram straight between its social media eyes. 22 ‘likes’ (or whatever they’re called) in 7 minutes. Hey, it’s all about engagement in this day and age. Share and feel the love. It’s 9.05am. Now I don’t know about you, but a toasted cheese sarmie around about this time sounds like a mighty fine idea. A few minutes later and you’re all tucking in merrily.
As you wipe the last delightful crumbs from your mouth you take a moment to sit back, (burp happily but discreetly) and look around. Every table is full. And everyone is in a bloody good mood. 8, 18, 80 years old – it doesn’t matter – all are welcome and the whole bang shaboodle are happily sipping away, eating and solving world problems in no particular order.
You leave content. It’s been a brilliant start to the day and it feels damned good to be alive. You’ll be back again tomorrow morning for another cup or two. Oh wait. Tomorrow is Sunday. They’re closed on a Sunday. You begin to sob uncontrollably. Not to worry, they’ll be here for you the next time you ride into town bud.