For a long time one of my favourite icebreakers, especially in conversations around books was: “I have never read The Alchemist.” I had heard about the book, seen it, touched it and had even been given a copy as a gift once, but I had never read a word of it.

It wasn’t because I didn’t trust the book; it was that I was able to resist it amid all the glory and praise it received. Eventually the book won and I carried it with me on a flight to Durban, a drive to St Lucia in the KwaZulu-Natal north coast. I had never been to St Lucia before and I had definitely never allowed my husband’s best friend’s wife to drive me (another two firsts).

By the time we passed the Ballito off-ramp, it had started to rain. I was still focused on nothing but my book and she, my designated driver, was trying to turn me into a tour guide.

She asked that we take the ramp so she could see the beach – which is about a kilometre away from the N4 highway – in the rain. I said no.

We drove another 10km and there was a sign pointing us to Mhlali Beach, which is even closer to the highway. I still wasn’t going to go to the beach in the rain. So we drove past until we stopped at Mvoti Plaza, which is basically a filling station where anyone driving on the N2 rarely ever drives past without stopping for food or to kill fatigue.

I wasn’t planning on helping her with the driving, so when we left the filling station and passed the Mvoti Toll Plaza,

I put my book aside and decided to entertain the tourist. I explained why the pastures lining the highway were so green, that it was sugarcane just beginning to gain life after the last harvest.

I had to explain a ferry-boat we saw when driving over the bridge crossing uThukela River, because for her it was so random and so unexpected to see it there. I had to tell her that the river meets with the Dokodweni and Mthunzini beaches, where ometimes you find cows taking walks.

She commented about how great it would be to own one of the houses along the highway.

I had to enlighten her: You can’t buy those houses, but you can go to the chief and ask for space to build your own house and if he likes you he’ll give it to you.

We passed Richards Bay about two hours later. She was still fascinated by the scenery and I wasn’t panicking yet, because I still knew the area and the curvy road ahead.

I warned her about possible fog, which by luck, we didn’t get stuck in. So all was well until the Mtubatuba/Hlabisa offramp and I wasn’t sure whether to go left or right at first. We found the sign telling

us we were 26km from the small coastal town which has more tourists than locals.

The road is the R618 and in good weather, it makes a great road trip, but in the rain and considering its narrowness, it’s not ideal to travel on it, especially considering the stray animals who like it.

We reached St Lucia three hours later and were amazed at how, small as it is, so much happens on a normal day, including getting traffic fines for parking in a loading zone.

There are about four traffic lights in the whole city and judging by how content its residents seemed to be, things are fine the way they are.

It rained throughout the weekend, which was supposed to feature a picnic, a trip to the beach and a book discussion session I was to have with a group of women on a weekend away.

Plans had to be cancelled. Time had to be spent indoors. And me?

I was finally seeing St Lucia and reading the most famous book in the land.