Does anyone benefit from making leisure time a performative exercise?

It is 42ºC and the family Kombi is labouring through the soup-like heat north of Laingsburg on the N1. It is beltingly hot, and the kids are beginning to wane as we tackle the last leg of the long road from the Kruger National Park back to Cape Town — but, to be honest, I could not be happier.

I love the Karoo. It is probable that this is because its vastness and peace offer a perfect counterpoint to the cramped, busy, and rowdy life I live in a small house full of children and noise in Cape Town’s City Bowl. But it is the Karoo I visit, and not so much the hostelries that host us. That’s not because of a lack of some fine establishments. Drostdy Hotel in Graaff-Reinet and, our family favourite, the unassuming Swartberg Country Manor near Oudtshoorn, are class acts in terms of décor, service, and homeliness. But, as we contemplate a new year that will be accompanied by enormous challenges for all South Africans, it occurs to me that my very un-luxury family holiday in SANParks accommodation was just what I needed.

At a time of great upheaval and existential crises, a merciless audit of the purpose of your leisure time is healthy, and might make what lies ahead easier. The first trick is to ask yourself a simple question, and — the difficult bit — to answer it honestly: who is all this for? Renewal lies in understanding — if you’ll indulge a little pop psych — what heals the soul and creates space for quieter ideas. This is a very different outcome to that which makes social media pop, and what sounds impressive around the table back in the office.

As I have got older and my children have started to grow up, I have found that renewal and recuperation lie in freeing oneself from what is in the shallowest sense impressive and moving towards what makes one happy. That is not to say that people should eschew nice things, far from it. I am no Spartan. People often comment on the fact that I do not wear a watch, for example, and that’s because I’m a snob about this — I haven’t found one that I both can afford and that will make me happy. I’d rather check my iPhone for the time of day than wear a timepiece that doesn’t suit me. I love a top-end restaurant, but most of the time a well-run bistro that pumps at a decent clip — such as Lazari in Gardens or Villa 47 on Bree Street, Cape Town — makes me much happier than getting lectured between every course about how clever the chef is.

As a long-time lover of the genius of automotive engineering, I find great joy in the workmanship and old artisanal skills that go into making the veneer of a Bentley Flying Spur, my favourite luxury barge, and undoubtedly an unaffordable thing for a lowly newspaper editor. I am left ice cold, however, by the chintz and gaudiness of the bedazzled and bejewelled specifications on some high-end SUVs. It seems to me to be a vulgarity, and I’d rather spend the rest of my days driving about in my catastrophically unreliable 1971 Land Rover than be seen near the steering wheel of a grotesque, overchromed SUV. And then, again, the Karoo. It’s usually either too hot or too cold, it’s often windy, and there is very little to do. To me, then, it is heaven — a haven of contemplation and respite.

When I do find myself at what we might typically call luxury spaces, it is increasingly common to watch tourists make fools of themselves as they create the perfect Instagram shot by the hot car or the view from the pool. At the risk of standing accused of being an old man shouting at the internet, it all looks like a lot of work and strikes me as sad, because it seems as though people are taking their leisure time not for themselves but for a version of themselves that they would like to project. It is leisure as performance, not leisure for recuperation and renewal. I have found great value in dropping all of that, and I propose the idea that if you don’t, it might not be possible to do the important job of vacationing.

It is increasingly understood that time off is critical. It is central to your performance at work. It’s critical in relationships. It is the only way to find space to hear your own thoughts about future projects. When there is peace, the answers to difficult questions, which have been too still to be heard, are suddenly audible. But if your holiday is a digital performance for other people, you’re never going to find the space that creates the opportunity for genuine reflection. This will impact the decisions you make and, ultimately, your career. And so, these days, my Instagram is a mess of my family and crappy SANParks rondavels and, indeed, the occasional hot car — because that’s a part of life that makes me happy.

My December break was necessary and good. I’m refreshed and ready, and I’m still here for the Bentley if anyone wants to sling one my way. But it’s all good; a Kombi full of kids and the road to Skukuza also makes me happy, and I’m at peace with the road ahead.

Alexander Parker is editor-in-chief of Business Day, BusinessLive, and BDTV