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Sunday Times Combined Metros 3 - 12/02/2014 01:45:03 PM - Plate:

❘ 3Fe b r u a r y 16 2014TRAVEL W E E K LY

ROBSCHER

Accidental Tourist

Paranoia turns a lucky New York find into anightmare for one paranoid housesitter

T HERE was something odd aboutthe mansion. It was a beautiful,five-storey brownstone locatedtwo blocks from Central Park on

the Upper East Side, which had fallen intomy possession for the holidays.

I’d jokingly reassured the owner, Bill,during our brief meeting that, ashousesitter, I’d be sure “not to burn theplace down”.

Bill didn’t laugh. He did, however, handme — with my overgrown beard, mop ofhair, hobo dress sense and all — the keysto his home. This would be the first of themansion’s mysteries.

Strolling up Lexington Avenue in ahand-me-down Ralph Lauren overcoat,walking Mr Henry the poodle (pets in thisneighbourhood own titles), I marvelled athow far I’d come.

Nothing adequately prepares you forthe barren wasteland of affordable livingspace that is New York City. I recalledbleakly trawling the online classifieds site“Cr a i g s l i st ” upon arrival. First, there wasstruggling artist Stan and hisc o nve r t e d - wa r e h o u s e - l o f t - c u m - c r a c k - d e n .Then there was band-merchandisesalesman Lee and his “railroad bedroom”— essentially a converted hallwaysmelling of mould and Subway takeout. Ithought of Lee as I stepped into theodour-free entrance hall of my new abode.

The family was in the process ofmoving to Miami. Owning a property thissize in New York costs a fortune and withBill’s kids grown-up,I figured they’dgrown tired of thecity and its blusterywinters.

Still, it didn’tcompletely add up.They seemed in arush to sell, andwere placing thehouse on anunstable property market. Upon sight ofmy unkempt visage, Bill jumped at theopportunity to leave his home — we l lstocked in liquor and wood-piledfireplaces — in my eager hands. He wasgoing to be disappointed upon returning

to discover the house intact and the liquordrunk.

“Shall we retire to the library?” I foundmyself suggesting to Mr Henry one day.At this stage of the stay, I waspermanently robed in a baby-blue gown. Ifelt no need to ever leave the premises orfor that matter, with a poodle forcompany, to seek human interaction. Thiswould be a short-lived sentiment.

In the dining room hung two portraitsof young girls. The one was easilyidentifiable — brunette, ample nose. Bill’sdaughter. Clearly.

The other portrait was of a beautifulblonde girl, slightly older, with morechiselled features. She appeared only inthis portrait, eerily absent from the familyphotos that littered the house. Mysteryshrouded her identity. Could she be thereason the family had rapidly lost interestin their mansion? Had something horriblehappened, which had led to the purging ofevidence of her existence? Searchingthrough albums for clues, I realised I

probably needed to reconsider myhermitical lifestyle.

Then came the polar vortex. Arcticwinds, in an act of awful timing, hadblown south, engulfing New York insubzero temperatures. I was trapped.

On the third day of the vortex, cabinfever set in. Dishevelled and wild-eyed,together with Mr Henry — with whom I’dbegun having (far too) long conversations— I began confining myself to sections ofthe house for fear of blonde spectres.Suddenly all the space I had previouslyenjoyed had become claustrophobic.

Worst of all, I was down to mere dropsof Bill’s expensive whiskey. The family’sreturn could not come a day too soon.

Weeks later, I would discover that thebeaky brunette from the portrait wasactually Bill’s wife and the object of mycrazed paranoia, her sister. I resolved tonever again spend another holiday alonein a mansion with a poodle as my solecompanion. — Rob Scher is a freelancewriter from Cape Town

Where did you spendyour last holiday?Trekking aroundEurope — Paris,London andAmsterdam — with mywife and kids. We’renot sure where thenext pair of shoes iscoming from but theexpense was worthevery unforgettable memory.

Your favourite city abroad and why?Dubai. I lived there in the days — from1992 — when there were just six SouthAfricans in the whole emirate. I harbouronly the happiest memories and yearnto go back but am nervous aboutwhether I will ever find my way around.Where did all those islands come from?

What was your best holiday, ever?Jordan will always be hard to beat: mywife and I went there for a wedding.Amman was breathtaking; the Romanruins at Jerash were stunning; and Petrais probably the single mostunforgettable place I have ever been(and I’ve been to the Taj Mahal andZeerust).

The best hotel you’ve stayed in?The Al Bustan outside Muscat in Omanwas just about as opulent as you canget. As I left the hotel, standing outsidethe grand entrance, I noticed, in thecorner of my eye, the unmistakablefigure of (former DRC president)Mobutu Sese Seko, complete with littleleopard-skin cap. I thought: “Thebastard’s going to try steal my cab.” Atwhich point a vast cavalcade sweptaround the corner and Mobutu wasgone.

What is the best thing you have beengiven on holiday?In Korea, my hosts gave me a beautifulcast-iron replica of an ancient bell —whose chimes recall the laments ofvictims of war or a damsel drowning orsomething. I must get it fixed.

Your favourite SA destination and why?Zeerust. I’ve just published a book abouta road that runs through it and the morepeople who scurry off to discover theplace, the more copies I’m likely to sell.

What is the most exotic dish you haveever eaten on holiday?In Dubai, I once had goat’s gonads. Orwere they camel’s balls? They werehorrible, slippery and hard to pin downwith a fork, never mind slice.

One travel destination you would call“never again”?Sandton.

■ Times columnist Peter Delmar has justpublished The Platinum Road, his third“road” book.

My Kind of Holiday

PETERDELMAR

The blonde inthe brownstone

EDITOR: Andrew Unsworth DEPUTY EDITOR: Paul Ash CONTACT: Tel: 011 280 5121. e-mail: [email protected]: Vernice Shaw SUBEDITOR: Elizabeth Sleith PICTURE SOURCING: Aubrey Paton PROOFREADER: Carénè BoshoffCOVER: Volcanic tufa formations, known as fairy chimneys, Pasabag, near Zelve in Cappadocia, Turkey SOURCE: Greatstock/Corbis COVER DESIGN: Matthys MossADVERTISING: Debbie Thompson, National Sales Business Manager, Tel: 011 280-3555. Email: [email protected] HOTLINE: 0860 52 52 00

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