Four years ago, Paul and I travelled to South Africa. It was a very poignant trip for us personally as we were there for a specific purpose (but that’s another story) and I was very excited. We flew into Johannesburg and made our way to magnificent Cape Town.
Paul and I travel really well together so our time in and around Cape Town was deeply connecting and wonderfully exciting. We stayed in the cool, waterfront area of Cape Town, where our apartment and the building manager were equally funky and eclectic!
Eventually we leave, drive through Cape Town, past the Shanty Towns and into the remarkable wine country around Stellenbosh. It’s like we’ve stepped into Europe. Stellenbosch is a university town with the most gorgeous Cape Dutch style architecture, enormous manor houses and the quaintest village-style main street, offering the most gorgeous shopping! I was in heaven.
Nearby is another town I want to visit. It has a huge garden in the centre of town tended by a Rastafarian looking guy who, like me, is in love with medicinal plants. The Franschhoek Medicinal Herb Garden has midday tours and i am dead keen to learn more about local medicinal herbs and the eccentric guy who lovingly cared for them! The town itself is a tourist town and full of glorious shopping, fabulous food and exquisite jewellery shops.
While I am innocently wandering down dirt paths, totally engrossed in stories about the African people, their medicines and how they use them, Paul is secretly returning to a stunning jewellery shop we’d seen earlier, to buy a secret gift. Not knowing my size, but knowing I had small fingers he bought the smallest one available.
Africa is the home of a unique gemstone called Tanzanite. The marketing spiel says, “a rare gem, poised between lush blue, vibrant violet, and rich purple, exotic tanzanite is found in only one place on earth, near majestic Mount Kilimanjaro”.
I fell in love with it because of that colour. It’s just so rare to see anything truly blue in nature. And that’s what he bought a tanzanite, diamond and white gold engagement ring
We came back to Australia and I was none the wiser. For reasons only known to Paul, he didn’t ask me to marry him until September this year. As I mentioned in last week’s post, it was my birthday last month and at the end of a beautiful, romantic day of birthday celebrations, when it came time to open my present, Paul presented me with the ring and the golden words, “Will you marry me?”
After I say yes, I try on the ring! Alas it’s too big! My heart drops because I really want to wear it straight away but I placate myself knowing we’ll take it to get resized.
Which we do, “Yes, we can do that, it will be $130 thank you”. I left thinking all would be well and within 7-10 days I’ll have my ring to wear proudly on my skinny finger!
Then I get a call from a concerned jeweller. It has to be resized 8 sizes down! That will pop out the tanzanite and the diamonds and make the ring oval, ugly and uncomfortable! Oh no! My heart drops again. I wallow for a split second but then I think, there’s no point in getting dramatic about it. Paul and I go into the jewellery showroom to discuss our options.
Which we do, “The best option is to replace it with a whole new ring and reset the stones in it” says the craftsman. “That will be $1200”. Oh no! That’s a lot.
Once again, no point in getting dramatic about it.
As we leave the jeweller, Paul puts his arm around me, looks into my eyes and says, “Don’t stress, you deserve this and anyway, it’s only going to be once in your lifetime!”, then he gives me a squeeze and kisses me on the lips.
Awwww, how blessed am I.
Brenda is a naturopath specialising in midlife and menopause. She draws on her training and experience as a nutritionist, herbalist, life coach, aromatherpist and yoga teacher to help women transform from a hot, sweaty mess to cool, calm and confident so they can be truly fulfilled in their work, relationships and life. Email Brenda for a complimentary private chat to discuss your needs and options. You don’t need to feel alone. email@example.com