VICKY Tollman is wearing a yellow Live Strong armband on the one hand and a red Kabala protective string on the other. Although of South African birth, she, and her sister Toni, speak with exotic accents that are not easily placed. The Tollman family have been hotels for a lifetime with their parents, Stanley and Beatrice renowned for The Tollman Towers in Johannesburg. Today the Tollman dynasty stretches far and wide and it is kind to say they have had their share of difficulty.

The first experience of the Tollman hospitality was on our fly-in arrival arranged by the fabulous Janie van der Spuy in a luxurious but tiny aircraft where I was sitting so close to Fair Lady’s Abigail Donnely I was almost lost in her cleavage. We were welcomed by cousin Michael Tollman and his tiny dog – I adore men with dogs, before watching the obligatory local school production. Jill Wagner whom I knew from years ago when she was at The Cape Sun of which I was a habitué  seemed the calm presence while, after the tears and nose blowing as the kiddy concert came to an end, the Sisters Tollman were rushing about looking for the presents to hand over to the school.

The trip thus far was top draw, text book launch material – everything from the chilled scented towel on arrival to the local dance troupe and I, much calmed by a anti-anxiety tablet I’d taken before the flight and quaffing a Kir Royale, was preparing myself for a slick launch filled with cliché and, ultimately devoid of meaning.

We were quite a big group and when seated in the Spanner outside dining area at Bushmans Kloof, I had fellow writer Melvyn Minaar opposite me and Vicky Tollman to my left. Cynicism comes with being a Scorpio, 15 years in the media and working as a publicist. Perhaps AA Gill is more cynical than I but few others are so my BS radar was on high alert.

The fact there was to cellphone reception was freaky – I’ve been to the Backwaters of Bombay and had cell phone reception and luckily my medication had kicked in so my being-out-of-reach anxiety minimized. I did think that Janie ought to have warned us so that our respective offices wouldn’t be surprised to be incommunicado.

I can’t pin point the exact moment I had an epiphany. Suddenly I understood that everything I thought phony about the Tollman’s was 100% authentic – they really are passionate, effusive, effective committed people and the emotion that I’d understood to be turned on at will, was heartfelt. Somehow, in the shadow of rocky outcrops and heart-opening nature I could feel my soul again and, in consequence, everyone else’s too. It occurred to me that millennia previously people had been at this exact spot searching for meaning in life and, perhaps in a similar way in which the media interprets events of the day, so too were the rock and cave paintings of our ancestors a reflective medium to understand their universe.

In this frame of mind the luxury which had previously been my focus now seemed a distraction. Bouchard Finlayson Wines, as delicious as they were dulled my now heightened senses and the food which I found glorious and playful seemed to draw me away from a place of understanding – perhaps even enlightenment. Each breath felt to me like man’s first – as if it were possible I witnessed the creation of the world.

Of course, before long I was back to my usual self – prattling on about this or that and finding myself again engrossed in nothing at all.

The day ended all too soon for me. By now I was hanging on Vicky’s every word as I imagined what her life, lived on many continents must be like. Although I’d never been to Bushmans Kloof before it was already well known to me as the uber luxury place to experience Bushman paintings. There is a museum there chronicles life of the San people with much more respect than the diorama that used to be at the SA Museum in Cape Town. The rock and cave paintings, of which we only had time to visit one, are protected World Heritage sites.

As a Relais & Chateaux property one of the conditions, Vicky tells us, is that it has to be owner managed. It also means that standards have to be kept at the high level these properties demand as the marques has become a mark of excellence.

It was also exciting to meet such an innovative and quirky chef so many miles from a big city. With chef Floris Smith sharp features and square glasses he cuts an image that is as nerdish as Dexter while as stylish as Yves Saint Laurent.  I experienced the food as course after course of innovation while remaining true to a sense of location and purpose.

Back home, while writing notes in my leather covered Bushmans Kloof book, burning the Bushmans Kloof jasmine votive candles and wearing my Bushmans Kloof cap – I count the trimmings of a lavish press junket.

This is one place that doesn’t need the usual sweeteners and I feel compelled to recommend Bushmans Kloof as the antidote to modern cynical life. Perhaps if I’d been there for longer I’d be even nicer to be around.

www.bushmanskloof.co.za 021-685-2598