A Summer Evening with a French Note

There’s something magical about summer evenings in Namibia. The light has its own rhythm here, soft and slow, stretching the hours between day and night. As the sun dips behind the distant hills, the sky begins to blush in shades of rose and gold, and the air carries that familiar scent of dust, dry grass, and possibility.

It’s the moment when the world exhales, when work and worries fade, and all that remains is stillness, heat, and the promise of a beautiful evening. That’s usually when I pour myself a glass of rosé. I buy my wines from Ricardo, my dear friend and favourite wine connoisseur in Windhoek. He owns a lovely shop called Manrico, a hidden gem fi lled with carefully curated household items, fi ne tableware, and exclusive wines and bubbles.

Manrico isn’t just a shop; it’s an experience. The moment you walk in, you feel a sense of calm — everything is beautifully arranged, and Ricardo greets every guest with genuine warmth and that unmistakable sparkle in his eyes. He offers what I’d call the best service in all of Namibia, attentive, personal, and delivered with true passion. You can tell that what he does is more than business; it’s love. And that love shines most when he speaks about wine.

Ricardo has this rare gift of making you fall in love with the story behind every bottle. For him, wine is not just about taste; it’s a journey, a memory, a refl ection of the soil and the soul that made it. We often fachsimpeln, as we’d say in German, meaning we talk endlessly, passionately, and sometimes quite nerdily about wine. We exchange discoveries, share our latest favourites, and compare which rosé captures the true spirit of summer.

A few weeks ago, I told him I was searching for something special — a drink that carries the lightness of Provence yet feels grounded in the raw beauty of Namibia. Ricardo smiled, reached for a bottle, and said, “Then this one is yours.”

It was a pale pink rosé from the south of France — elegant, fresh, and full of life. “She’s delicate,” he said, “but not shy, just like you.” I laughed and knew immediately: this would be the beginning of a new summer ritual.

That evening, inspired by both Provence and Windhoek, I created my own sundowner drink — a little française twist with a hint of Namibian soul.

Rosé Provençal – My French Summer Dream

Ingredients:

• 120 ml chilled rosé wine (preferably from

  Provence)

• 30 ml elderfl ower or lavender syrup

• 60 ml sparkling water or Crémant

• A squeeze of lemon juice

• Ice cubes

• A sprig of rosemary or lavender

• A few slices of strawberry or peach

Preparation:

Fill a large wine glass with ice. Add the rosé, syrup, and lemon juice. Top up with sparkling water or Crémant and stir gently. Garnish with rosemary or lavender and a few slices of fruit.

The result is simply divine, light and fl oral, with a hint of sweetness and the freshness of a summer breeze. It tastes like sunlight and laughter, like music and soft linen dresses, like a slow afternoon that refuses to end.

That night, I sat on my terrace, the veld cooling down around me. The rosemary from my garden swayed gently in the warm breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a jackal called. I took a sip and smiled.

In that glass, I could taste both worlds — the elegance of France and the untamed beauty of Namibia.

It was more than a drink; it was a reminder of how life weaves stories from contrasts, of how refi nement and wilderness can coexist beautifully, just as they do in this land, and perhaps in me, too.

If you have a story to tell, I’d love to hear it! Write to me at

deardiary@myeishanamibia.com

Until next time,

From Sandra’s pen, Namibia