Africa

It's been about two and a half years since I've set foot in Africa. I think about it every month. Some months I think about it every week. And some weeks I think about it every day. There is no place I've been in the last four plus years I've been writing this blog that calls to me the way Africa does. Heck, there's really no place I've traveled ever that makes me long to go back the way I need to go back to Africa. Every time I get an email from South African Airways or see a post on Twitter about the Dark Continent, I want to be there.

Now, I'm not talking about the whole continent here. I'm talking about sub-Saharan Africa. I'm talking about the bush, the savanna, the rivers and the open sky. I'm talking about wide open spaces with no sign of anything man-made and pitch black nights where you can hear otherworldly noises and see the Southern Cross in the sky. I'm talking about places where there are fewer men than animals by the hundreds of thousands or millions. And I don't mean squirrels or chipmunks or tiny animals. I mean massive mammals that are free and wild and dangerous and a little scary sometimes or maybe all of the time. I miss all of that.

I miss watching elephants eat and interact like families. I miss searching for crocodiles on the banks of rivers. I want to finish watching lions hunt their prey. I miss hippos. I don't necessarily want to be on a river with a pod of hippos in a small boat but I do miss hippos. I want to see more than I've seen. I want rhinos and zebras and wildebeest by the tens of thousands and cheetahs and ostriches and flamingos as far as the eye can see and to lay eyes on an elusive leopard. This is what I have wanted for the last 30 months. The pull is absolutely irresistible. It sounds melodramatic but it's true and it's difficult to actually convey what that place did to me without seeming dramatic.

In August of 2015, we took a trip to southern Africa: a six night, four country journey to Victoria Falls and a bit west where Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana and Namibia come together at a point. We didn't know what to expect. We expected to see huge open grasslands and watering holes with acacia trees silhouetted against the horizon every so often like you see in The Lion King and nature shows. We expected to be soaked by the Smoke That Thunders in Victoria Falls National Park in Zimbabwe. We hoped to see a few animals and when we did we assumed they would be just all sort of hanging around looking at each other waiting for some kind of predator/prey circle of life action. We didn't get any of that exactly and we got so much more.

Next month, we are heading back. Not quite to the area around Victoria Falls this time. A little further north and east. To Kenya and Tanzania. If there's a stereotypical African safari environment, this is it. Kilimanjaro. Masai Mara. Lake Nakuru. Amboseli. Lake Manyara. Serengeti. Nogorongoro. Six days wasn't enough last time. I'm hoping 13 days will be enough this time. No pre-trip blog posts about wanting to be a zookeeper. I never want to set foot in a zoo again really. Not after last time. Africa is where I want to be. I'll have more stories to tell soon. I hope this keeps me going for another few years.