My Luv Letter to Phinda by andBeyond
- Isabella Drenthen
- 6 days ago
- 9 min read
Dear Phinda,
“What a wonderful world.”
Louis Armstrong sings it like it’s obvious, my dad replied with exactly those words when I had asked him about a song that resembled his life currently. And I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Because sometimes the world feels like a bit of a mess — politically, environmentally, socially — and then sometimes you land in South Africa and think, okay… maybe it is still pretty wonderful after all.
Johannesburg — aka, let’s form our own opinion
After thirteen hours of flying (two back to Amsterdam first, because apparently I enjoy adding unnecessary flight time to my life, and then eleven down to JNB), I should’ve been completely dead. But the idea of being back in South Africa somehow cancelled out the exhaustion.
The hotel was gorgeous; fun interiors, a signature scent that made me want to ask for the candle version, and GOOD coffee. Actual good coffee. I almost hugged the barista. France, I love you, but we need to talk.
We met LuLu for a private cultural tour through Jo’burg, and within five minutes, I wanted her to run my life. She is sharp, funny, brutally honest and deeply proud of her city.
At the Museum of Africa, she explained how apartheid officially ended in 1994, but systems don’t magically disappear overnight. On job applications and medical documents, race still needs to be declared. Hearing that out loud hits differently than reading it in a textbook.
We walked through Newtown and passed Nelson Mandela’s old law office, which has been closed for over ten years. LuLu dreams of turning it into a café or a lawyer’s club to keep his legacy alive in a living way, not just as history. I loved that idea, history, you can sit inside.
We took the original taxi-buses to Maboneng, which felt chaotic but somehow completely functional. Lunch was at a jazz-style bar called Bertrand, which now even has its own wine (very on-brand for my family).
What I noticed most was my parents slowly recalibrating their expectations. The Jo’burg they had imagined, based on Western headlines, didn’t fully match reality. They’re still cautious (as you should be), but I could tell they were slightly less hesitant about my “I want to work in South Africa and probably Johannesburg” plans. And honestly? I’ll call that progress.
The next day, we went to Rosebank Market, which once again reminded me that everything here is just… bigger. I fell in love with a massive multicoloured beaded hippo and briefly considered buying another suitcase just for him. Financial responsibility won (unfortunately...).
In Soweto, we hiked up to an old gold mine and carried stones to the top, symbolising the weight we carry. Apparently, the bigger the problem, the bigger the stone. Naturally, I picked up quite an ambitious one. Naturally, my mom told me maybe I didn’t need to carry all my emotional baggage up a mountain in one go.
The view over Soweto from the top didn’t match the doom stories we hear back home. It looked layered, alive, imperfect, but vibrant. Which is exactly why I love travelling, you get to see for yourself instead of borrowing someone else’s narrative.
Johannesburg was grounded. Informative. Necessary.
But Phinda was calling.
Phinda and AndBeyond— back where it all started
The moment I saw the Phinda andBeyond airstrip from the plane window, I had that very clear, very physical thought: I’m back.
Within five minutes of driving towards Forest Lodge, my mom turned to me and said I was already glowing. She wasn’t wrong. I was pointing at everything like a tour guide who had memorised last year’s greatest hits.
“That’s where we did the dehorning briefing.”
“That’s where we saw the lions.”
“That’s the road where…”
It wasn’t new. It was familiar. And that familiarity did something to me.
The lion cub chaos (11/10, would recommend)
The lion cub morning deserves all caps, but I will behave.
We were only a few meters away. I barely had to zoom my lens, which in wildlife terms is basically VIP access. They were fully aware of us but completely unbothered. The cubs were wrestling, pouncing, biting tails, climbing trees, tackling each other like overcaffeinated toddlers. The moms watched with that exact same expression every mother everywhere has: proud, but mildly annoyed.
We are all the same, apparently.
The marsh and the forest behind them were wrapped in soft golden light, and everything felt cinematic without trying. Later, when the pride moved and a kill was made, the atmosphere shifted. The dominant male joined and casually reminded everyone who was in charge. It wasn’t loud chaos; it was quiet intensity. You could feel the hierarchy without anyone having to explain it.
Moments like that make you realise nature doesn’t need drama edits. It’s already dramatic enough.
Leopard luck and glitter bush
On the second afternoon, we found a sub-adult female leopard in the most ridiculous golden light.
I adjusted my camera settings once and somehow got it right immediately (which never happens), and the greenery around her blurred into this glitter-like softness that I genuinely still don’t understand how I captured. It looks like someone sprinkled fairy dust around her.
I felt calm but buzzing. It was only day two, and already I was spoiled with the perfect leopard and lion cubs sighting.
That morning, my friend from the reserve jokingly said he would give us his “good luck charm” with leopards. At the time, we laughed. But sitting there watching her move through the grass, I’m not entirely convinced it was a joke anymore...
When she crouched to hunt, everything tightened. The nyala alarm call (which honestly sounds like a sick dog) cut through the silence. She didn’t succeed, but watching her focus was enough.
And yes, I got the shot. I will be insufferable about it for a while.
Zuka meets Zambia
While being at Rock Lodge in a different region of the reserve called Zuka, we saw an elephant stand on its back legs to reach into a tree, which has been on my mental wildlife bucket list for years. I follow a photographer who captured three elephants doing that in Zambia and I always thought, “Okay, I’ll need to go there one day.”
But apparently, you just need Lucky as your guide and Phinda as your playground.
The white rhino mother with her tiny two-week-old calf hit me differently. It reminded me of May, when we rescued a little calf during my first volunteering stint and brought it back to its mom. Seeing this one stick so closely to her side felt personal in a way I can’t fully explain.
And then there was the young male lion on top of a rock, Lion King style, except he was so tired he kept wrinkling his face trying to get comfortable. Majestic, yes. But also extremely adorable.
The cheetah “pride” (we think?)
On our final morning, we saw something rare: two cheetah mothers raising their cubs together.
They’re still not entirely sure what to call it; perhaps a cheetah pride, since the hierarchy resembles lions more than typical cheetah behaviour. The cubs were older, playfully stalking and mock-hunting each other while the moms encouraged them and scanned the horizon.
It was ridiculously cute but also fascinating. Two families choosing cooperation over solitude.
Unconventional structures are forming where they usually don’t. I loved it.
The humans — because this isn’t just about animals
What makes Phinda different isn’t just the wildlife — It’s the people.
The staff somehow manage to make you feel completely at ease within minutes. They strike the perfect balance between personal and professional. They get to know you without oversharing. They remember things without making it feel rehearsed.
Boma evenings are cosy in the best way: candles everywhere, chefs taking centre stage, guides casually joining your table so conversations expand beyond your own little bubble.
And then there was Siza at Rock Lodge.
I had mentioned that the andBeyond bracelet I wanted in a specific colour wasn’t available anymore. I had already accepted defeat (dramatically), even though I had half-joked I wanted it as a manifestation tool for my future here.
On departure morning, he surprised me with it. He had driven to another lodge to get it before we left. I was already emotionally unstable about saying goodbye, and that gesture nearly tipped me over.
That’s hospitality. Not tip-driven. Not transactional. Just thoughtful.
There was also something softer woven quietly through the week, someone else from the reserve who has become part of my Phinda story.
Coffee on Tuesday. Boma night on Wednesday. Lunch on Friday.
It felt easy from the start. No awkward re-introductions. No “so how have you been?” energy. Just slipping back into conversations as if the seven months between us had simply been a long pause rather than distance.
I did need a moment to adjust to the fact that he was actually sitting next to me instead of existing through a phone screen. It’s strange how your brain has to recalibrate from virtual to real. But once that landed, it felt natural. Familiar. Like something that had been waiting patiently to continue.
There’s something special about sharing the bush with someone who understands it the way you do — who can read tracks before you even notice them, who adds small layers of knowledge to a sighting, who laughs at the same inside jokes about rangers and rivalries. It makes everything richer.
Time flew. Which is apparently what happens when you’re having fun, but honestly, it’s also incredibly inconvenient when you’re trying to stretch a week into something longer.
This goodbye was harder, maybe because last time it had been cut short to seven rushed minutes, which didn’t leave much time to think. This time we had longer. Long enough to stand still and look at each other. Long enough to realise I had just gotten used to having him around again instead of only through a screen.
It’s strange how a place can feel like home because of landscapes and animals — and then also because of a person who exists inside it.
Hopefully I won’t have to recalibrate from virtual to real for too long again.
The Master Plan
For years, I’ve questioned my choices. Hospitality as an introvert. A master’s degree without a guaranteed outcome. My frustration with sustainability conversations that feel stuck on plastic straws instead of ecosystem restoration.
But this week, something shifted.
On Tuesday afternoon, I followed Lucy around at Forest Lodge, helping with small tasks and asking questions about operations. And for the first time, I didn’t just imagine myself in South Africa — I could clearly see myself working there.
Driving through the sand forest with Oli and Zac, and its whimsical, almost unreal atmosphere, I felt something close to fiery determination. Not vague dreaming. Not romantic escapism. Just clarity.
I knew I wanted to move to South Africa after my master’s. I just didn’t know what that would look like and how. Now I do.
Phinda means “return” in Zulu. They returned the wild to this land. And people keep returning for it.
Including me.
Every time I leave, my stomach aches in a way it never does when I leave the Netherlands or Nice. I try to be cool about it, but I just can't; the tears won't stop...
And I guess Louis Armstrong was right.
It is a wonderful world. Especially when you find the corner of it that feels like it might slowly be becoming your home.
Spread the Luv,
Isabella
P.S. A proper thank you is in order.
Lucy, thank you for taking me along, even if only for an hour, and showing me the back office. For answering my endless questions and making me feel part of the team, however briefly. Your openness meant more than you probably realise.
Happy, thank you for the special care and for trying to teach us how to properly (or hopefully somewhat properly) pronounce our Zulu clicks. I promise I’ll keep practising the Q, X and C.
Oli and Zac, thank you for the calm guiding, for knowing exactly when to speak and when to let the bush do the talking. Not every sighting needs commentary, and being able to sit in silence and just listen to the animals made everything richer. Also, your sarcastic humour is dangerously aligned with my family’s love language, so that was always going to be a success.
Lucky and Bongani, your tracking skills are honestly out of this world. The things you see in the sand that the rest of us would happily drive past are unreal. I’m still convinced you both have eagle eyes.
Bongy, thank you for the seamless service and quiet attentiveness — it never goes unnoticed.
Luke and Siza, thank you for the warmth at Rock Lodge, and Siza… for the bracelet mission. It hasn’t left my wrist since I put it on. I did say it was a manifestation piece, so now we’ll just have to see what it brings.
And to a familiar face who took the time to visit us three times that week — thank you for the laughter, the ease, and the comfort that somehow always feels effortless.
Hopefully until next time. I’ll be in touch with all of you — and fair warning, my determined (slightly stalker-ish) side might emerge when job openings appear.
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