The southern Sun and The Rule of Saint Benedict Abbot of Monte Casino, Father of Western Monasticism

Isn’t it interesting how when we read, history sometimes just reaches its arm off the page and gently (sometimes not so gently), slaps us on the cheek, awaking the curiosity in our souls, the desire to find out more about a place, thing or being? I spent four days and three nights at Four Ways Southern Sun Hotel, in Johannesburg. It’s a part of a large restaurant and shopping complex called Monte Casino. And yes you guessed it, it is houses a casino, one of the largest and most lucrative, (from the owners’ point of view), in South Africa. The question that my slapped, awakened curiosity was having me ask is: “so why would the largest casino in South Africa want to seek legitimacy in its secular debauchery by associating itself with: “Terra Sancti Benedicti”, the land of saint benedict, an ancient Italian Abbacy, presided over by none other than he, who is, even in modern times, considered the father of Western Monasticism? Perhaps the same reason any of us would, I suppose – that indefatigable hope that our vain attempt at religious association might suffice to cover that multitudinous mountain of sins and other wrong doings and wrong thinkings, which we all have so grievously committed throughout our life, in the self- aggrandized “development” of our own soul’s real estate….
Because of proximity and a cleverly applied bit of logistical strategy, (traffic flows in the opposite direction both morning and evening when traveling to and from our company HQ offices in RSA…), our company uses the hotels in Monte Casino regularly to house our employees. In my case they booked for me the Southern Sun and I’m glad they did, as this a really nice four star that from the foyer on up to the themes of the restaurant and rooms all pay homage to an Italian heritage in architecture due to the need, I guess, to continue associating the hotels of the complex with the 500 AD abbacy of Monte Casino.
The emphasis placed on meat, fresh African fruit platters, and huge avocado quarters doused with the juice of squeezed African lemons in the hotel breakfast suited my pallet quite nicely thank you very much and the just in time tossing of an African omelet (though not Ostrich-based, simply chicken), fronting as an Italian frittata by an expert omelet/fronting-frittata chef in a big white chef hat, really rounds out the breakfast experience here, especially if you get seated near the windows which overlook the outside infinity pool disappearing into a nice view of the ravine and African stream running beside the backside of the hotel.
The sliding solid wood doors, lining the long side of the tub and opening to face the beds in the room was a surprise. Elegant and closeable. Other than that, rolling tired into a four star bed in fourth quarter of the year, the things one most focusses on I would say are how quickly will the comfort of this particular mattress and pillow combo beckon me to sleep in light of the two hours I just gained by flying 8 afternoon hours to get here just to work for four days here and then lose four hours on return to Dubai? Thankfully the Southern sun Mattress and pillow combo I had that night answered that question very well.
I really like going to Johannesburg although I don’t get to experience much in terms of tourist destinations, I get a kick out of the laid back atmosphere of O.R. Tambo International. I like staring at the huge yellow mountains of tailings of the gold mines of the previous era that defined this place not so long ago, and from previous trips, the short day trip to Lion Park, the tour of Pretoria, The Museum of Apartheid, unmissable. And if I am required to go again for work, I will do so without hesitation.
I write

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Keeping Up with the Jones'

 They tell you not to compare. Do not measure your life against the neighbor’s. Do not chase the illusion of status. Wise words. And mostly ignored by anyone with a pulse. But the one luxury I dream of is not a shiny car or a gadget that glows in the dark. I want land. And a home rooted in that land. A mansion, yes, because why lie about the scale of the vision? Something built to last. Something that cannot be folded into a suitcase or lost the moment a visa expires. Picture this. A wide stretch of earth that belongs to my family name. Soil that remembers the footsteps of children now grown. Trees that rise taller long after I am gone. A house with a high roof and windows that pull in the morning sun instead of shutting it out. A library filled with the books I wrote and the ones that wrote me. A workshop where tools rest not in transit cases but on familiar walls. A kitchen where laughter outnumbers plates. A long table where every seat has a story, and none are borrowed. A pl...
Read more

Humble Pie

 We all have a private accounting system. You put in effort. You expect return. You sacrifice now. You imagine reward later. Neat math. Encouraging math. Math that makes you feel in control. For a long time, I thought I understood that math. I believed that twenty five years working abroad in the Middle East, away from family roots and Canadian soil, would translate into financial freedom. I imagined coming home with savings stacked, investments humming, and a calm sense that the future was covered. Then the bill came due. It turns out life charges interest on distance. On risk. On uncertainty. On raising kids in a country where family safety costs more than anyone back home could ever imagine. On working for companies that benefit from your best years but forget your name the moment the contract ends. And suddenly the numbers did not add up. I found myself staring at a truth harder than I liked. All that time. All that sweat. All that faith in a system. And I was not wealthy....
Read more

Now You See Me

 If I could appear and disappear at will, I would not waste the ability doing parlor tricks or sneaking into bank vaults. I know what it is like to be needed in a moment that decides everything. I know what it feels like to wish I could vanish from a moment that hurts. So here is how I would use my superpower. When my son faced his first night behind a locked door, I would appear beside him. Not to break him out. Not to bend justice. Just to sit. To tell him the walls were temporary and the world outside was still waiting for him. Fathers cannot always fix, but we can always remain. And when the decision came down from a judge with more power over my family than any human should have, I would disappear into my own calm, just long enough not to let fear speak for me. I would appear in the homes of every hiring manager who tossed my résumé aside after fifteen years of loyalty evaporated with the word “redundant.” I would stand right in front of them until they could not ignore my...
Read more