Nostalgic journey through Ratanga Junction

DOESN'T the name Ratanga Junction just bring back a flood of memories?

- BERNELEE VOLLMER

The second I flipped through some old photo albums, memories returned of those golden summers filled with adventures, sticky fingers, dodgy haircuts and way too much sunburn.

Our childhoods revolved around a rotation of beach days, swimming at the Sea Point or Strand indoor pools that left us smelling of chlorine and sunblock for day, and the holy grail of outings: a day at Ratanga Junction.

The very sight of that colourful entrance promised pure chaos in the best way. You knew you were in for a day of screaming your lungs out, dodging splashes, and standing in those endless queues that were somehow part of the fun.

I remember going there with friends, cousins, aunties, uncles, you name it. Ratanga was one of those rare places where everyone could enjoy themselves. When my uncle and his family, who had relocated to the UK, came back to visit, a pitstop at Ratanga was nonnegotiable.