San Lameer Villa Rentals 3104

The private beach is still one of San Lameer's best features, especially when I don't feel like dealing with crowded beaches. The whole South Coast, though, runs together in my mind as one long stretch of family memories, from Margate and Ramsgate to Port Edward and Port Shepstone, with trips up to the Wild Coast too. We used to have a KWIK SPAR inside the resort, though I'm not sure if it's still there. Ramsgate Spar is just a stone’s throw away either way. My family owned a few villas in San Lameer Estate over the years, so the place is tied up with my childhood and teenage years. We spent Christmases and birthdays here, and I had a few matric holidays here too, even though none of them were officially mine. When the South Coast went grey, we'd check the weather in Durban and head to uShaka Marine World or the Pavilion Shopping Centre. Margate during school holidays was always buzzing, with carnival rides, beach stalls, henna tattoos, dolphin figurines, poppers, and those little toy dogs that barked, shuffled along, then did a dramatic back flip. Everyone seemed to own one at some point. We went go karting, tried the Super Tube in Margate, jumped off the waterfall at Uvongo Beach, and spent rainy days at Shelly Centre. I even got an eye piercing at a Margate tattoo parlour in peak teenage fashion. It was a phase, but part of the story. We visited the crocodile farm and banana plantations, and were always trying to outsmart monkeys breaking into the villas. There were the nights out too. Pistols Saloon was a classic, with its old school feel, generous portions, and that huge pig everyone remembers. It was part restaurant, part landmark. The Mardi Gras in Margate took over the whole town, with packed streets, music everywhere, and the energy turned right up. The stalls sold just about anything, from sunglasses and bead necklaces to airbrushed T shirts, beach toys, and random gadgets. Beer tents were busy from early afternoon, live music carried on into the night, rides lit up the beachfront, and massive inflatable water slides appeared on the sand like a pop up water park. Everyone remembers Johnny Rockets, Hardline and Backline, or was it Backstage and Backline? I can't remember. Either way, if you know, you know. Those names were the soundtrack to holiday nights in Margate. December meant crowded streets, loud music, beach days rolling into nights out, and stories best left slightly edited. It was chaotic, loud, and unforgettable. Before Plettenberg Bay Rage and Ballito Rage became the headline acts, Margate was where everyone landed. Some of my favourite memories are from the estate itself. We'd cram as many friends as physics allowed onto the golf carts and race around at night until security showed up in their patrol cart. Then it was instant survival mode. There were uphill wheelies, dune trail adventures with girls we'd just met, and holiday friendships that lasted a week but felt legendary. The lagoon lookout was a favourite spot to slow down, and the private beach was always special. Early mornings at 06:00 meant Milo at the bar and scones piled with strawberry jam, whipped cream, and cheese. We'd play squash and have long lunches by the hotel pool after coming back from the beach, completely in holiday mode. My cousin and I would stand on the tidal pool wall at high tide and let the waves knock us backwards into the pool. Not sensible, maybe, but one of my favourite traditions.